"Especially her," Thrawn said, his voice tinged with sadness. "There are all too few idealists in this universe, Car'das. Too few people who strive always to see only the good in others. I wouldn't want to be responsible for crushing even one of them."
"And besides, you rather liked all that unquestioning adulation coming your way?"
Thrawn smiled faintly. "All beings appreciate such admiration," he said. "You have excellent insight into the hearts of others. Stratis has chosen well."
"I guess we'll find out." Car'das held out his hand. "Well. Good-bye, Commander. It's been an honor knowing you."
"As it has for me, as well," Thrawn said, taking his hand. "Farewell… Jorj."
"I don't know," Qennto said, shaking his head. "For my money, it sounds like a really bad idea."
"I'll be fine," Car'das assured him. "Thrawn says Stratis isn't the sort to lure me aboard just to make trouble. It's not his style."
"Maybe," Qennto rumbled. "Maybe not. The last thing a guy like that will want is someone like you planting yourself on a Coruscant street corner and shouting his past activities from the bottom of your lungs."
"And what about us?" Maris added. "We knew what he was planning for Outbound Flight, too."
"But you never knew his real name," Car'das reminded her. "All you have is an alias and a rumor. That's not going to get you any traction."
"Even if we were stupid enough to try?" Qennto asked, throwing a warning look at Maris.
"Something like that," Car'das agreed, hoping neither of them would bring up the fact that theyhad known Kav's real name. Still, Kai' was a common enough Neimoidian name; and since the vicelord himself was dead, that wasn't likely to be too much of a problem. Certainly Stratis himself hadn't seemed worried about it. "Anyway, Thrawn vouches for the man."
"That's good enough for me," Maris declared. "I just hope Drixo the Hutt will be as reasonable."
"Don't worry about Drixo," Qennto said with a grunt. "She won't be a problem, not with all this extra loot to calm her down. In fact, I'll bet I can even talk her into giving us a bonus."
Maris rolled her eves. "Here we go again."
"Hey, I'm a businessman," Qennto protested. "This is what I do."
"Just do it carefully, okay?" Car'das said. "I don't want to have to worry about you two."
"You worry about yourself," Qennto said ominously, jabbing a large finger into Car'das's chest for emphasis. "Whatever Thrawn says, this Stratis sounds about as slippery as a greased Dug, and twice as unfriendly."
"And having Thrawn foil his attack on Outbound Flight won't have helped his mood any," Maris said. Her forehead wrinkled slightly. "Thrawndid stop his attack, didn't he?"
Car'das felt his stomach tighten. Maris had been a shipmate, someone he'd spent half a year living and working and fighting alongside. More than that, he considered her a friend.
He'd never lied to a friend before. Did he really want to start now? And with a lie as terrible as this one?
And then, Thrawn's voice seemed to float up from his memory. There are all too few idealists in this universe..
The truth wouldn't help the dead of Outbound Flight. All it could do was hurt Maris. "Of course he stopped Stratis's attack," he assured her with all the false heartiness he could create. "I was right there when Outbound Flight flew away."
The wrinkles in her forehead smoothed out, and Maris smiled. "I knew he could do it," she said, holding out her hand. "Good luck, Jorj, and take care of yourself. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime."
Car'das forced himself to smile as he took her hand. "Yes," he said softly. "Maybe we will."
The shattering impact had passed, the violent shaking had faded away, and the dust was beginning to settle onto the darkened deck. Slowly, carefully, Uliar lifted his head from the mass of chair cushions he'd curled up against, wincing as a twinge of pain arced through his neck. "Hello?" he called, his voice echoing eerily through the silent room.
"Uliar?" a voice called back. "It's-" He broke off as a sudden coughing fit took him. "It's Pressor," he said when he got the cough under control. "You all right?"
"Yeah, I think so," Uliar said, getting up and walking unsteadily toward the voice. All the lights were out except for the permlight emergency panels, leaving D-4 looking and feeling uncomfortably like a tomb. "You?"
"I think so," Pressor said. A pair of shadowy figures crawled out from beneath a desk across the room, resolving into Dillian Pressor and his son, Jorad, as they stepped beneath one of the permlights. "Where are all the others?"
"I don't know," Uliar said. "Everyone scattered for cover when you gave the collision warning." He looked around. "What a mess."
"That's for sure," Pressor agreed grimly, rubbing at some blood trickling down his cheek. "I wonder what happened."
"It didn't feel like laser blasts or energy torpedoes," Uliar said. "Aside fromthat, I haven't the faintest idea."
"Well, first things first," Pressor said. "We need to get everyone together and check for food, water, and medical supplies. After that, we can see about power and living quarters. After that, we can see if we can get to the bridge and figure out what in blazes happened."
He started picking his way through the debris, Jorad at his side, clutching his hand tightly. "Yeah, it's a good thing you gave us that warning, all right," Uliar commented as they reached the door. "How come you knew it was coming?"
Pressor shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "It just sort of popped into my head."
"You mean like some kind of Jedi thing?"
"I'm not a Jedi, Chas," Pressor said firmly. "I probably heard something moving or scraping against the hull. Precursor asteroid gravel, or maybe atmospheric friction. Something like that."
"Sure," Uliar said. "That's probably it."
But whether or not Pressor was a Jedi, there was definitely something strange about him. And after what the Jedi had done to Outbound Flight, Uliar would be watching Pressor and his family. He would be watching them very closely.
In the meantime, there was a little matter of survival to deal with. Ducking under a twisted section of ceiling panel, he followed Pressor down the corridor.