Summary:
Star Wars Legends
On an epic voyage far beyond the Republic, the Jedi will confront their most extraordinary enemy—and test the limits of honor and sacrifice against their most devastating challenge.
The Clone Wars have yet to erupt when Jedi Master Jorus C’baoth petitions the Senate for support of a singularly ambitious undertaking: the dream of Outbound Flight. Six Jedi Masters, twelve Jedi Knights, and fifty thousand men, women, and children will embark—aboard a gargantuan vessel, equipped for years of travel—on a mission to contact intelligent life and colonize undiscovered worlds beyond the known galaxy.
Unknown to the famed Jedi Master, the launch of the mission is secretly being orchestrated by an unlikely ally: the evil Sith Lord Darth Sidious, who has his own reasons for wanting Outbound Flight to move forward.
Yet Darth Sidious is not the mission’s most dangerous challenge. Once underway, the starship crosses paths at the edge of Unknown Space with the forces of the alien Chiss Ascendancy and a brilliant mastermind named Thrawn. Even Jedi knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, aboard Outbound Flight with his young Padawan student Anakin Skywalker, cannot help to avert disaster. What begins as a peaceful Jedi mission is violently transformed into an all-out war for survival against staggering odds—and the most diabolical of adversaries.
Star Wars Legends
The specter of the menacing Grand Admiral Thrawn looms over Luke and Mara Jade Skywalker as they embark on a journey to recover an important piece of Jedi history.
Sometimes it seems a Jedi’s work is never done, and Luke and Mara Jade Skywalker know this only too well. Despite the bond they share in the Force, the Jedi Master and his wife are still learning the ropes of being a couple after three years of marriage—and struggling to find time together between the constant demands of duty. But all that will change when they’re united on an unexpected mission: They must pool their exceptional skills to combat an insidious enemy and salvage a part of Jedi history.
Whatever may await, the Skywalkers will not face it alone. Joining them on the strange and solemn journey are an officer of the post-Palpatine Empire escorted by a detachment of Imperial stormtroopers; a party of diplomats from a gentle alien species that reveres the fallen Jedi for saving them from bloodthirsty conquerors; and a New Republic ambassador who harbors his own mysterious agenda.
Soon enough, suspicion, secrecy, and an unknown saboteur run rampant aboard the isolated ship. But the gravest danger lies within the derelict walls of Outbound Flight, buried for half a century on a desolate planetoid. As the marooned hulk yields up stunning revelations and unexpected terrors to its visitors, Luke and Mara find all that they stand for—and their very existence—brutally challenged. The ultimate test will be surviving the deathtrap carefully laid by foes who are legendary for their ruthlessness, and determined to complete the job Thrawn began: exterminating the Jedi.
Adventure and mystery is in high order here and though many of the characters Zahn created no longer exist in Disney's timeline they still exist in the Star Wars Legends timeline and no matter how you see the two opposing journeys, there is no denying the brilliance of them that will keep you hooked from beginning to end. Despite being non-canon I still highly recommend discovering the original SWEU because it will entertain you and bring you back to the original magical enjoyment you felt the first time you saw Star Wars(that is if you've been with the franchise from the beginning as I have -- I was 4 when I saw ANH in 1977 and have been hooked ever since).
RATING:
Author Bio:
Timothy Zahn is the author of more than fifty novels, more than a hundred short stories and novelettes, and five short-fiction collections. In 1984, he won the Hugo Award for Best Novella. Zahn is best known for his Star Wars novels (Thrawn, Thrawn: Alliances, Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, The Last Command, Specter of the Past, Vision of the Future, Survivor’s Quest, Outbound Flight, Allegiance, Choices of One, and Scoundrels), with more than eight million copies of his books in print. His other books include StarCraft: Evolution, the Cobra series, the Quadrail series, and the young adult Dragonback series. Zahn has a B.S. in physics from Michigan State University and an M.S. from the University of Illinois. He lives with his family on the Oregon coast.
Survivor's Quest
Outbound Flight
1
The light freighter Bargain Hunter moved through space, silver-gray against the blackness, the light of the distant stars reflecting from its hull. Its running lights were muted, its navigational beacons quiet, its viewports for the most part as dark as the space around it.
Its drive gunning for all it was worth.
“Hang on!” Dubrak Qennto barked over the straining roar of the engines. “Here he comes again!”
Clenching his teeth firmly together to keep them from chattering, Jorj Car’das got a grip on his seat’s armrest with one hand as he finished punching coordinates into the nav computer with the other. Just in time; the Bargain Hunter jinked hard to the left as a pair of brilliant green blaster bolts burned past the bridge canopy. “Car’das?” Qennto called. “Snap it up, kid.”
“I’m snapping, I’m snapping,” Car’das called back, resisting the urge to point out that the outmoded nav equipment was Qennto’s property, not his. As was the lack of diplomacy and common sense that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. “Can’t we just talk to them?”
“Terrific idea,” Qennto bit out. “Be sure to compliment Progga on his fairness and sound business sense. That always works on Hutts.”
The last word was punctuated by another cluster of blaster shots, this group closer than the last. “Rak, the engines can’t hold this speed forever,” Maris Ferasi warned from the copilot’s seat, her dark hair flashing with green highlights every time a shot went past.
“Doesn’t have to be forever,” Qennto said with a grunt. “Just till we have some numbers. Car’das?”
On Car’das’s board a light winked on. “Ready,” he called, punching the numbers over to the pilot’s station. “It’s not a very long jump, though—”
He was cut off by a screech from somewhere aft, and the flashing blaster bolts were replaced by flashing starlines as the Bargain Hunter shot into hyperspace.
Car’das took a deep breath, let it out silently. “This is not what I signed up for,” he muttered to himself. Barely six standard months after signing on with Qennto and Maris, this was already the second time they’d had to run for their lives from someone.
And this time it was a Hutt they’d frizzled. Qennto, he thought darkly, had a genuine talent for picking his fights.
“You okay, Jorj?”
Car’das looked up, blinking away a drop of sweat that had somehow found its way into his eye. Maris was swiveled around in her chair, looking back at him with concern. “I’m fine,” he said, wincing at the quavering in his voice.
“Of course he is,” Qennto assured Maris as he also turned around to look at their junior crewer. “Those shots never even got close.”
Car’das braced himself. “You know, Qennto, it may not be my place to say this—”
“It isn’t; and don’t,” Qennto said gruffly, turning back to his board.
“Progga the Hutt is not the sort of person you want mad at you,” Car’das said anyway. “I mean, first there was that Rodian—”
“A word about shipboard etiquette, kid,” Qennto cut in, turning just far enough to send a single eye’s worth of glower at Car’das. “You don’t argue with your captain. Not ever. Not unless you want this to be your first and last tour with us.”
“I’d settle for it not being the last tour of my life,” Car’das muttered.
“What was that?”
Car’das grimaced. “Nothing.”
“Don’t let Progga worry you,” Maris soothed. “He has a rotten temper, but he’ll cool off.”
“Before or after he racks the three of us and takes all the furs?” Car’das countered, eyeing the hyperdrive readings uneasily. That mauvine nullifier instability was definitely getting worse.
“Oh, Progga wouldn’t have racked us,” Qennto scoffed. “He’d have left that to Drixo when we had to tell her he’d snatched her cargo. You do have that next jump ready, right?”
“Working on it,” Car’das said, checking the computer. “But the hyperdrive—”
“Heads up,” Qennto interrupted. “We’re coming out.”
The starlines collapsed back into stars, and Car’das keyed for a full sensor scan.
And jerked as a salvo of blaster shots sizzled past the canopy.
Qennto barked a short expletive. “What the frizz?”
“He followed us,” Maris said, sounding stunned.
“And he’s got the range,” Qennto snarled as he threw the Bargain Hunter into another series of stomach-twisting evasive maneuvers. “Car’das, get us out of here!”
“Trying,” Car’das called back, fighting to read the computer displays as they bounced and wobbled in front of his eyes. There was no way it was going to calculate the next jump before even Qennto’s luck ran out and the fuming Hutt back there finally connected.
But if Car’das couldn’t find a place for them to go, maybe he could find all the places for them not to go . . .
The sky directly ahead was full of stars, but there was plenty of empty black between them. Picking the biggest of the gaps, he punched the vector into the computer. “Try this one,” he called, keying it to Qennto.
“What do you mean try?” Maris asked.
The freighter rocked as a pair of shots caught it squarely on the aft deflector. “Never mind,” Qennto said before Car’das could answer. He punched the board, and once again the starlines lanced out and faded into the blotchy hyperspace sky.
Maris exhaled in a huff. “That was too close.”
“Okay, so maybe he is mad at us,” Qennto conceded. “Now. Like Maris said, kid, what do you mean, try this one?”
“I didn’t have time to calculate a proper jump,” Car’das explained. “So I just aimed us into an empty spot with no stars.”
Qennto swiveled around. “You mean an empty spot with no visible stars?” he asked ominously. “An empty spot with no collapsed stars, or pre-star dark masses, or something hidden behind dust clouds? That kind of empty spot?” He waved a hand toward the canopy. “And out toward the Unknown Regions on top of it?”
“We don’t have enough data in that direction for him to have done a proper calculation anyway,” Maris said, coming unex- pectedly to Car’das’s defense.
“That’s not the point,” Qennto insisted.
“No, the point is that he got us away from Progga,” Maris said. “I think that deserves at least a thank-you.”
Qennto rolled his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. “Such thanks to be rescinded if and when we run through a star you didn’t see, of course.”
“I think it’s more likely the hyperdrive will blow up first,” Car’das warned. “Remember that nullifier problem I told you about? I think it’s getting—”
He was cut off by a wailing sound from beneath them, and with a lurch the Bargain Hunter leapt forward like a giffa on a scent.
“Running hot!” Qennto shouted, spinning back to his board. “Maris, shut ’er down!”
“Trying,” Maris called back over the wailing as her fingers danced across her board. “Control lines are looping—can’t get a signal through.”
With a curse, Qennto popped his straps and heaved his bulk out of his seat. He sprinted down the narrow aisle, his elbow barely missing the back of Car’das’s head as he passed. Poking uselessly at his own controls, Car’das popped his own strap release and started to follow.
“Car’das, get up here,” Maris called, gesturing him forward.
“He might need me,” Car’das said as he nevertheless reversed direction and headed forward.
“Sit,” she ordered, nodding sideways at Qennto’s vacated pilot’s seat. “Help me watch the tracker—if we veer off this vector before Rak figures out how to pull the plug, I need to know about it.”
“But Qennto—”
“Word of advice, friend,” she interrupted, her eyes still on her displays. “This is Rak’s ship. If there are any tricky repairs to be made, he’s the one who’ll make them.”
“Even if I happen to know more about a particular system than he does?”
“Especially if you happen to know more about it than he does,” she said drily. “But in this case, you don’t. Trust me.”
“Fine,” Car’das said with a sigh. “Such trust to be rescinded if and when we blow up, of course.”
“You’re learning,” she said approvingly. “Now run a systems check on the scanners and see if the instability’s bled over into them. Then do the same for the nav computer. Once we get through this, I want to make sure we can find our way home again.”
Survivor's Quest
CHAPTER 1
The Imperial Star Destroyer moved silently through the blackness of space, its lights dimmed, its huge sublight engines blazing with the urgency of its mission.
The man standing on the command walkway could feel the rumble of those engines through his boots as he listened to the muttered conversation from the crew pits below him. The conversation sounded worried, too, as worried as he himself felt.
Though for entirely different reasons. For him, this was a personal matter, the frustration of a professional dealing with fallible beings and the capriciousness of a universe that refused to always live up to one’s preconceived notions as to what was fitting and proper. An error had been made, possibly a very serious error. And as with all errors, there would likely be unpleasant consequences riding in its wake.
From the starboard crew pit came a muffled curse, and he stifled a grimace. None of that mattered to the Star Destroyer’s crew. Their worries stemmed solely from their performance, and whether they would be facing a pat on the back or a boot in the rear at journey’s end.
Or possibly they were merely worried about the sublight engines blowing up. On this ship, one never knew.
He shifted his attention downward, his gaze leaving the grandeur of the starscape and coming to rest on the bow of the Star Destroyer stretching out more than a kilometer in front of him. He could remember the days when the mere sight of one of these ships would send shivers up the spines of the bravest of fighters and the most arrogant of smugglers.
But those days were gone, hopefully forever. The Empire had been rehabilitated, though of course many within the New Republic still refused to believe that. Under Supreme Commander Pellaeon’s firm guidance, the Empire had signed a treaty with the New Republic, and was no longer any more threatening than the Bothans or the Corporate Sector or anyone else.
Almost unwillingly, he smiled as he gazed along the Star Destroyer’s long prow. Of course, even in the old days of the Empire, this particular ship would probably have inspired more bewilderment than fear.
It was, after all, hard to take a bright red Star Destroyer very seriously.
From behind him, audible even over the rumble of the engines, came the sound of clumping boots. “Okay, Karrde,” Booster Terrik grunted as he came to a halt at his side. “The comm’s finally fixed. You can transmit whenever you want.”
“Thank you,” Talon Karrde said, turning back toward the crew pits and trying hard not to blame Booster for the state his equipment was in. An Imperial Star Destroyer was a huge amount of ship to take care of, and Booster never had nearly enough personnel to do the job right. “H’sishi?” he called. “Go.”
[Yes, Chieftain,] the Togorian called back from the comm board, her fur fluffing slightly as her clawed fingers touched the keys. [Transmission complete. Shall I begin alerting the rest of the network now?]
“Yes,” Karrde said. “Thank you.”
H’sishi nodded and returned her attention to the board.
With that, Karrde knew, he’d done all he could for the moment. Turning again to face the stars, he folded his arms across his chest and tried hard to cultivate his patience. “It’ll be all right,” Booster murmured from beside him. “We’ll be around this star in half an hour and be able to jump to lightspeed. We can be in the Domgrin system in two standard days, tops.”
“Assuming the hyperdrive doesn’t break down again.” Karrde waved a hand. “Sorry. I’m just—you understand.”
“Sure,” Booster said. “But relax, all right? This is Luke and Mara we’re talking about, not some fresh-hatched Neimoidian grubs. Whatever’s going on, they’re not going to be caught flat-footed.”
“Maybe,” Karrde said. “Though even Jedi can be surprised.” He shook his head. “But that’s not the point, is it? The point is that I messed up. I don’t like it when that happens.”
Booster shrugged his massive shoulders. “Like any of the rest of us do?” he asked pointedly. “You have to face the facts, Karrde, and Fact Number One is that you simply can’t know everyone who works for you anymore.”
Karrde glared out at the mockingly cheerful red ship stretched out in front of him. But Booster was right. This whole thing had gotten completely out of hand.
He’d started out modestly enough, merely offering to provide timely information to the leaders of the New Republic and Empire so that both sides could be assured that the other wasn’t plotting against them. And for the first couple of years everything had gone just fine.
The trouble had come when the various planetary and sector governments within the New Republic had woken up to the benefits of this handy service and decided they wanted aboard, too. After the near civil war that had broken out over the Caamas Document, Karrde hadn’t really felt like turning them down, and with permission from his clients on Coruscant and Bastion he’d gone ahead and expanded his operations.
Which naturally meant expanding his personnel as well. In retrospect, he supposed, it had only been a matter of time before something like this happened. He just wished it hadn’t happened to Luke and Mara. “Maybe not,” he told Booster. “But even if I can’t handle everything personally, it’s still my responsibility.”
“Ah,” Booster said knowingly. “So it’s your pride that’s hurt, is it?”
Karrde eyed his old friend. “Tell me, Booster. Has anyone ever told you you’re truly irritating when you try to be sympathetic?”
“Yeah, the subject’s come up once or twice,” Booster said, grinning. He slapped Karrde’s back. “Come on. Let’s go down to the Transis Corridor and I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Assuming the drink dispensers are working today,” Karrde murmured as they headed back along the command walkway.
“Well, yeah,” Booster conceded. “Always assuming that.” ...
As cantinas went, Mara Jade Skywalker thought as she sipped her drink, this was definitely one of the strangest she’d ever been in.
Part of that might simply have been due to the locale. Here in the Outer Rim, culture and style weren’t exactly up to the standards of Coruscant and the rest of the Core Worlds. That might explain the gaudy wall hangings juxtaposed with ancient plumbing woven around modern drink dispensers, all of it set against a background decor consisting mainly of polished droid parts dating back to before the Clone Wars.
As for the unbreakable mugs and the heavy, stone-topped table she was seated at, the smoothed-over blaster scars in the walls and ceiling were more than enough explanation. When the patrons dived under the tables in the middle of a firefight, they would want those tables to afford them some protection. And they wouldn’t want to find themselves sitting on bits of broken crockery, either.
There was no rationale at all, of course, for the very loud, very off-key music.
A brush of air touched her shoulder, and a heavyset man appeared from behind her, pushing his way through the milling crowd. “Sorry,” he huffed as he circled the table and landed his bulk back in the seat across from her. “Business, business, business. Never lets up for a minute.”
“I suppose not,” Mara agreed. He didn’t fool her for a second; even without Force sensitivity she would have spotted the furtiveness hidden behind the noise and bustle. Jerf Huxley, master smuggler and minor terror of the Outer Rim, was up to something unpleasant.
The only question was how unpleasant he was planning for that something to be.
“Yeah, it’s crazy out here,” Huxley went on, taking a noisy swallow of the drink he’d left behind when he hurried off on the mysterious errand that had taken him away from their table. “ ’Course, you know all that. Or at least you used to.” He eyed her over the rim of his mug. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” Mara said, not bothering to erase the smile that had caught the other’s attention. “I was just thinking about what a trusting person you are.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.
“Your drink,” Mara said, gesturing to his mug. “You go away and leave it alone with me, and then you just come back and toss it down without even wondering if I’ve put something in it.”
Huxley’s lips puckered, and through the Force Mara caught a hint of his chagrin. He hadn’t worried about his drink, of course, because he’d had her under close surveillance the whole time he was gone. He also hadn’t intended for her to know that. “All right, fine,” he said, banging the mug back onto the table. “Enough with the games. Let’s hear it. Why are you here?”
With a man like this, Mara knew, there was no point in glaze- coating it. “I’m here on behalf of Talon Karrde,” she said. “He wanted me to thank you for your assistance and that of your organization over the past ten years, and to inform you that your services will no longer be required.”
Huxley’s face didn’t even twitch. Clearly, he’d already suspected this was coming. “Starting when?” he asked.
“Starting now,” Mara said. “Thanks for the drink, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Not so fast,” Huxley said, lifting a hand.
Mara froze halfway to her feet. Behind Huxley, blasters had abruptly appeared in the hands of three of the men who had hitherto been minding their own business at the bar. Blasters that were, not surprisingly, pointed at her. “Sit down,” he ordered. Carefully, Mara eased back into her chair. “Was there something else?” she asked mildly.
Huxley gestured again, more emphatically this time, and the off-key background music shut off. As did all conversation. “So that’s it, is it?” Huxley demanded quietly. In the sudden silence, even a soft voice seemed to ring against the battered walls. “Karrde’s going to toss us aside, just like that?”
“I presume you read the news,” Mara said, keeping her voice calm. All around her, she could sense the single-minded animosity of the crowd. Huxley had apparently stocked the place with his friends and associates. “Karrde’s getting out of the smuggling business. Has been, for the past three years. He doesn’t need your services anymore.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t need,” Huxley said with a sniff. “What about what we need?”
“I don’t know,” Mara said. “What do you need?”
“Maybe you don’t remember what it’s like in the Outer Rim, Jade,” Huxley said, leaning over the table toward her. “But out here, you don’t split things three ways against the ends. You work for one group, period, or you don’t work at all. We burned our skyarches behind us years ago when we started working for Karrde. If he pulls out, what are we supposed to do?”
“I expect you’ll have to make new arrangements,” Mara said. “Look, you had to have known this was coming. Karrde’s made no secret of the direction he’s been taking.”
“Yeah, right,” Huxley said contemptuously. “Like anyone believed he’d really go straight.”
He drew himself up. “So you want to know what we need? Fine. What we need is something to tide us over until we can get back in the business with someone else.”
So there it was: a simple and straightforward pocket-shake. Nothing subtle from this bunch. “How much?” she asked.
“Five hundred thousand.” His lip twisted slightly. “In cash credits.”
Mara kept her face expressionless. She’d come here prepared for something like this, but that number was way beyond reason. “And where exactly do you expect me to get this little tide-me-over?” she asked. “I don’t carry that much spending money on me.”
“Don’t get cute,” Huxley growled. “You know as well as I do that Karrde’s got a sector clearinghouse over on Gonmore. They’ll have all the credits there we need.”
He dug into a pocket and produced a hold-out blaster. “You’re going to call and tell them to bring it to us,” he said, leveling the weapon at her face across the table. “Half a million. Now.”
“Really.” Casually, keeping her hands visible, Mara turned her head to look behind her. Most of the cantina’s nonsmuggler patrons had already made a quiet exit, she noted, or else had gathered into groups on either side of the confrontation, staying well out of the potential lines of fire. Of more immediate concern was the group of about twenty humans and aliens who had spread themselves out in a semicircle directly behind her, all of them with weapons trained on her back.
All of them also showing varying degrees of wariness, she noted with a certain malicious amusement. Her reputation had apparently preceded her. “You throw an interesting party, Huxley,” she said, turning back to face the smuggler chief. “But you don’t really think you’re equipped to deal with a Jedi, do you?”
Huxley smiled. A very evil smile. A surprisingly evil smile, actually, given the circumstances. “Matter of fact, yeah, I do.” He raised his voice. “Bats?”
Timothy Zahn is the author of more than fifty novels, more than a hundred short stories and novelettes, and five short-fiction collections. In 1984, he won the Hugo Award for Best Novella. Zahn is best known for his Star Wars novels (Thrawn, Thrawn: Alliances, Heir to the Empire, Dark Force Rising, The Last Command, Specter of the Past, Vision of the Future, Survivor’s Quest, Outbound Flight, Allegiance, Choices of One, and Scoundrels), with more than eight million copies of his books in print. His other books include StarCraft: Evolution, the Cobra series, the Quadrail series, and the young adult Dragonback series. Zahn has a B.S. in physics from Michigan State University and an M.S. from the University of Illinois. He lives with his family on the Oregon coast.
Outbound Flight
Survivor's Quest
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