Chapter Four: The Mystery of the Outbound Flight

Eve spent the next week showing Angela around the village while the other villagers repaired the fallen metal beast—Angela's ship. The mysterious stranger—this self-styled "Jedi Knight," whatever that meant—was quite taken with her people's ways and traditions. She called it "quaint" and "tender." Eve always thought her village as normal. To call it quaint seemed alien to her, for it was the only way of living she knew.

The Jedi fascinated the girl. Angela was only a few years older, but she carried herself such an aura of control and experience that Eve, for all her treks into the brutal Lower Woodlands, could not hope to match. Her Papa, a skilled warrior himself, quietly told her one evening that the Jedi woman was far superior a swordmaster than he ever could be. Beautiful, a mighty warrior, with thousands of adventures behind her—Angela Marshair was the epitome of what Eve glorified.

It was like witnessing the birth of a star or hearing the Lower Woodlands in the still night.

Angela helped out with the daily chores, though from the first day she left her cot, bandages and all, she insisted on donning her black attire. Eve wondered if there was some special significance in her clothing, even though they were decidedly plain. And Angela never left her guest chambers without that strange metal wand hanging from her belt.

"What is this lightsaber of yours, anyway?" Eve asked that evening, a full week after the Jedi landed in their village. "You seem very protective of it. Is it a family heirloom or a magical device? The medicine woman takes as much care of her bracelets as you do your lightsaber because they aid in her healing."

Angela shook her head and unclipped the rod from her belt. "The lightsaber is a Jedi's weapon."

"It doesn't look like a weapon."

"Which is why we Jedi prefer it. Very innocuous, yet also very dangerous in the hands of an expert—and even more so in the hands of the untrained."

"I don't understand. How is it more dangerous if you don't know how to use it?"

The Jedi pressed the button on the metal shaft. Eve let out a yelp of surprise when a bright green blade boiled forth with a hiss. "With this," Angela said grimly, "I can cut through a mountainside like a hot knife through butter. With it, I can protect people and myself. But in the hands of some without training, this same weapon can harm the wielder—or those around the wielder." The blade disappeared and the weapon returned to her belt.

"You have a very strange weapon," Eve said quietly. "I've never seen anything made of living flame before...or have I?" She shook her head, clearing it of chimeras. "Sorry. I just felt like I saw your lightsaber somewhere before. But that's impossible, of course. Did Atroclos and his group come back in yet?"

Angela shook her head. "I did not see them. I do thank you and your people for salvaging my ship. I realize that it's the height of the harvest season, and that you have many chores to do. I apologize for the inconvenience."

It was Eve's turn to shake her head. "Don't worry about it. Here, try this." She handed the Jedi an apple. "A little something to tide you over until lunch. It'll be your turn to help with the dishes, just to remind you."

Angela bit into the fruit with relish. "I won't forget."

Lunch was a hearty affair. The midday eating halls were packed with men and women fresh from the fields and the mills. The children ran in from the river with trout and other game fish slung over their shoulders. The sun beat down heavily, unusual this late in the season, but it uplifted the spirits of the villagers. Eve looked around but did not see her father among the crowd. She shrugged and picked up some wooden bowls and spoons, handing one set to Angela.

"There's a gruel pot over there," she said, pointing. "And there's loaves on the other side. And cheese, too. I'll get us those if you find us a seat and some drinks."

In a matter of minutes, the two were seated by a group of other young women, all around Angela's age. Some wore their hair long and loose, the sign of marriage; others wore their hair short, like Eve's, the sign of availability. "Patra, Elda, this is Angela Marshair, the woman who came from the metal beast," the girl announced. "How are the children doing, Patra?"

"Pleased to meet you, Angela Marshair. Oh, little Zesha just learning how to walk now. He's growing up so fast, you know. He's the sweetest little thing. His father wants to show him how to string a bow soon, but I keep telling him that he needs to grow up some more, but you know Jebadiah."

Eve laughed at the thought of the burly, but simple man. "Do I know him. You're lucky to have him, Patra. He may be plain in the head, but he's a hardworking fellow with a heart of gold."

"Your words are very kind, Princess. Thank you for them."

Elda inched forward, leaning toward Angela. "Tell us more about yourself, Angela. Where are you from? Do you really come from the stars, like the gossip says?"

"I suppose I do," Angela answered guardedly. Eve wondered why she was so reticent. The Jedi continued, "I'm actually from Trista Prime. It's…uh…very far away from here."

"What do you think of our village?" Patra asked.

"Well, it's very nice. I haven't seen any place as peaceful and friendly as your valley in a very long time and your hospitality is second to none. I feel like I'm with family here, which is strange in a way, because I don't get along too well with my own family." Eve saw the wince, the subtle and angry twitch of an eyebrow.

"Oh surely not!" Elda protested. "You're a fine woman, Angela. I've seen you working in the fields with the strength of the men. And you certainly act like a good person. How do you not get along with your kin, if you don't mind my asking?"

Angela shrugged. "It's complicated and I'd rather not get into it. I don't really understand why, myself. Tell me, do you all work so well together, in this communal living of yours?"

"Yes," Eve answered. "It's the ways things have always been."

"How long have you lived here, in the valley? How far back do your traditions run?"

The girl thought about that, thinking about all the tales her father, her grandfather, her uncles and aunts and the other villagers and wise people had told her. "We must have been here for about ten generations, I think. One of my ancestors brought us here, and he left this," she placed her broken sword on the table, "as proof of who rules."

Angela examined the weapon but did not touch it. "It's very beautiful. How did it get broken?"

Eve shrugged. "I think my grandfather brought it into the Lower Woodlands—that's the forbidden lands down to the south—but he died there. I had to search forever to find it."

"I take it from the sideways glances of your friends that going into these Lower Woodlands is not something a girl your age should be doing," Angela noted wryly.

"Or any proper girl should be doing at any age," Elda added. "It is a very dangerous place, Angela. Clawed predators greater than any man here or any beast of burden will kill you and eat you up faster than you can say 'shooting stars among us.' And you'll get lost in those cursed woods right quick. The trees are so thick that you can't see the sunlight, leaving all in perpetual darkness."

Angela looked at Eve with eyes that bored into her soul. The girl shivered as the Jedi seemed to read her very heart. "And she goes in there. Probably regularly? And she comes back out every time, too." She smiled. "You're a very brave and remarkable girl if you can find adventure in such a place, Eve."

Eve smiled back, suddenly feeling that she found a kindred spirit. "Yes. I can take you there, if you want!" She spoke on impulse, and immediately regretted it.

Elda and Patra frowned warningly. Patra said, "Princess! This is our guest! You do not bring guests into so vile a place as that. It is very dangerous, you know that. You shouldn't even be going there. Why, if I was your mother—the gods give her soul peace—I'd lay you over my knee right now. And to suggest bringing so fine a guest there, too!" Eve shrank back from her matriarchal authority. She knew better than to argue with a mother.

"Actually, I'm curious about the Lower Woodlands," Angela cut in. "Eve showed me some of the stuff she brought from there. It's hanging in her room. I actually recognize some of it and I'd like to see more, if possible."

"I can show you where there's a lot of stuff!" Eve said brightly. "Big metal beasts like the one you rode in, too! I call it the Metal Graveyard because there's a lot of them. The stuff in my room was just lying around the forest floor, but the Metal Graveyard is nothing but those things. It's really quite wondrous. I'll show you."

"I'd like that, Eve."

"Then come with me," she said, taking the Jedi's hand excitedly. "We need to get you some things for the trip. Elda, Patra, tell the others that I'm taking Angela sightseeing!" She threw them a wink, talking and moving so fast that the two older women could not get a word in edgewise. By the time the women had recovered from the torrent that was Eve, the girl and the Jedi were already running back to the tower.


In less than half an hour, Angela and Eve were treading through the underbrush of the Lower Woodlands. The canopy was not as thick in the northern parts of the forest, and slashes of sunlight crept through, illuminating their path. Angela wiped sweat from her brow. Her tunic was thick and woolen, uncomfortable to wear in the forest. She glanced over Eve's sleeveless linen tunic with envy. The girl was not even breaking a sweat, not even breathing hard.

"You're certainly a healthy girl," Angela noted, struggling to keep pace with her companion. "I can do flips and sprint a hundred meters in a heartbeat, but I can't do it all day like you can. Whew!" Again she wiped her brow. "Damn hot out here."

"I asked if you wanted a frock," Eve said smilingly. "But you insisted on wearing that thing. Wait, don't drink your canteen yet! There won't be any way to refill it for at least another two hours." She pointed to the southeast, into the thicker parts of the wood. "There's a lake down that way, but it's hard to get to. There's a chasm we'd have to cross. I know a stream a bit further this way. It's father, but easier to get to."

"You're very knowledgeable about a place that's forbidden," the Jedi said with a wry grin. "I take it you get yourself into trouble a lot."

The girl shrugged and smirked. She looked so innocent. "I guess I do. But you know, the villagers aren't really all that mad at me, I'm sure of it. See, I always bring them back something from the forest. There's lots of stuff lying around here, especially the deeper you go. Metal and glass shards, packs of odd medicine, weird glowing things, things that spew out rope, that sort of thing. I know a lot about them, now. Don't know what they're called or how to make any of it, but I know how to use them."

Angela nodded at the precocious girl. What she described, the young Jedi realized, were pieces of wreckage from starships: hull plating, medpacs, tools. It made her wonder just how many ships had crashed on this backwater planet. Come to think of it, Angela thought, I don't recall this world being on any of the star charts or planetary records. How did a place like this stay hidden all this time?

But that was a question for another day. Right now, the Lower Woodlands gave Angela the hope that she could find a way off-planet. Her ship had been shattered to so much refuse, with the hyperdrive components and navigational computer as the only salvageable pieces. She had no long-range communications, no way to fly off the surface. But perhaps there was a useable hull, or even a whole starship, rusting in the woods or in the Metal Graveyard Eve had mentioned. Either way, she had parts to get her home—now all she needed was the ship to put those parts in.

"What other things did you find?" the Jedi asked.

"Lots of things. Last week, just a few hours before you crashed, actually, I found a funny glowing crystal. It was shaped in a cube, and I swore I saw things in it. Like visions."

That stopped Angela in her tracks. "You what?" she said dumbly, shock still making its way through her system. Glowing crystal, cubical, visions—a Jedi holocron? If that's true, Angela mused in growing excitement, then that would explain why no one found this planet. After all, Master Skywalker used that Fallanassi illusion technique to hide Yavin Four for all those years…a similar trick must be active on this world.

The implications astounded her. A world that the Jedi had visited—and, from a logical standpoint, they had to have been from the old Jedi Order, when the Old Republic was at its height. It was the only time period in which the Jedi could have had the resources to send an expedition this far out into the edges of the known galaxy. But the Jedi never returned, or else there would have been some record. Something kept the Jedi here. Angela cycled the possibilities in her mind. A crash? Did they all die? Were their ships disabled? Other questions went through: Were the Jedi still here? If they are, why are they hiding? Why didn't they detect her? It was all mind-boggling to her, but her hopes rose a hundred-fold.

"Take me to this crystal," Angela begged. "I know what it might be, Eve, and its very important to my order, the Jedi Knights."

Eve looked at her, slightly confused, but willing to trust her. "All right, Angela. Come with me. I hid it along with some other stuff near the Metal Graveyard. What is it, anyway?"

"From your description, it's a Jedi holocron—a crystal that stores information. Those who are trained in using it can access its lore." As soon as she said that, another thought hit her. Eve said she saw visions in it. That meant…. "Eve, you've never used a holocron before, right?"

The girl shook her head.

Angela nodded, her suspicions confirmed. "Take me to the holocron. I'll explain once where there."

They walked in silence, but Angela's mind was astir with thoughts. Eve used the holocron without any prior training. Only a trained Jedi could activate a Jedi holocron and use it properly, that much was true—but any Force-sensitive being could catch glimpses of lay within. If Eve was able to see into the crystal, then she had to be Force-sensitive. It made sense to Angela the more she watched the girl work her way through the forest. Trees bent away from her, animals that came to the edge of their path turned away, and vines and branches merely turned aside when she came close. Though Angela could not sense any Force-auras around Eve, it was obvious that the girl was calling upon its energies to manipulate the life-forces around her, to make them obey her.

Controlling plants and animals were applications of the Force that Angela had never witnessed before. Embroiled in disputes and missions that took her into the heart of civilization, she never had the opportunity to see what mysticism could be concocted by using the Force in a natural setting. But now she saw the fruit of such abilities. And it impressed her.

Odd that I can't sense the Force in her, Angela thought. But then again, hiding oneself from those sensing for others in the Force is a requisite skill. It not an unusual ability—practically all Jedi had some familiarity in the technique, especially during the Yuuzhan Vong war when the Jedi-hunting voxyn were employed—but it was unusual for someone to be using the ability constantly. Using it constantly and without any formal training. Angela concluded that she must either be quite strong in the Force or very specialized in her powers.

And then the Metal Graveyard loomed before them. Angela let out a slow whistle. She recognized many of the starship designs that filled the massive pit. At least twelve large transports and a complement of starfighters lay in ruins, their skeletons a sad testimony to their magnificence. All of them were Old Republic era, she was sure of it.

"Eve, could you bring me that crystal? I'd like to take a look around here for a bit." Angela hopped down to the pit, her feet crunching the metal beneath. Her eyes roved the gutted vessels, looking for anything that identified them. So many ships, she thought with wonder. Only an exploration team would need this much in transport craft. Her boot crumpled a battered durasteel plate with faded writing on it, but she could make it out easily enough. What was written upon it chilled her bones.

The plate read OUTBOUND FLIGHT.

"Impossible," she breathed. "That's impossible. Outbound Flight was lost, all the Jedi Masters killed." She looked around some more and found other pieces of evidence. Another metal plate, this one with the serial and model numbers for an AETHERSPRITE, a type of snub fighter she recognized as the colloquially known 'Jedi starfighter,' built shortly before the Clone Wars. The starboard side of a transport ship, cut cleanly in half down the middle, bore the name CLUSTERED SUN, one of the ships used in the Outbound Flight project. There was FOR THE REPUBLIC, a decommissioned gunship assigned to the project. "This is it," she murmured numbly, her mind finally starting to believe what lay before her eyes. "This is the Outbound Flight."

But it was only about half of it, she realized. Twelve transports, only a portion of what was attached to the project. The others were still missing, lost to whatever limbo stole them. Yet now she was standing on a good portion of those ships. "Incredible. Simply incredible." She dug deeper, slipping into a broken viewport and entering a transport bearing a plate that read THE HEART OF GOLD.

Dust and grime had accumulated within and made it difficult to breathe. Angela pulled up her collar for protection. It was dark within, for any energy feeding the onboard lights had long since been depleted. She unclipped her lightsaber and ignited it, filling the murky corridor with its green glow. Holding her weapon before her like a torch, she slowly made her way through, the feeling of history and forgotten lore weighing upon her shoulders.

She had read about the fabled misadventure that was the Outbound Flight project, heard about how it, after a fashion, haunted the early days of the New Republic in the form of the cloned Jorus C'baoth. But now she was walking in the real thing, the actual shell of the beleaguered project. It was overwhelming.

She made her way to the captain's study, found that she had to shoulder in the rusted door to enter. On a desk that was almost a century old, decayed and worn and broken by time, she found a datapad—and it was still operational. Angela shut off her lightsaber to prevent any accidents and let the faded glow of the computer screen fill the room.

She read the screen:

Outbound Flight Master Computer (Captain's Terminal)

Further Information?

So she had accessed the supercomputer installed on the Outbound Flight project. According to the technical histories Master Skywalker had researched on it, the data interface was based on the question-and-answer method with very sophisticated algorithms. All she had to do was ask and she would, in theory, receive. "Hmm. Computer, bring up the last command given."

Unrecognized Voice. Authorization?

"Blaster bolts," she swore. Accessing the computer's files would not be as easy as she originally thought. Figures that theory never meets with practicality, she thought nastily, "Um, Jedi Knight Angela Marshair." The supercomputer should recognize any Jedi as an authorized user—a safety protocol in the event the project was lost. But again, it was a theoretical failsafe. The computer hummed as it processed that information.

No Such Jedi Found In The Archives. Authorization?

I'll try a different approach, she thought. "Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth." She prayed that the computer did not have voice recognition protocols.

Authorization Successful.

"Bingo," she said triumphantly. "Bring up the last command given."

Emergency Communications to Alderaan, Coruscant, and Dantooine. Message Recorded By Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth And Relayed To Captain Majett Of The Heart Of Gold.

"Interesting. Replay the message."

A scratchy voice played over the datapad's battered speakers. "This is Jedi Ma…er…C'baoth…abandon ship. We prom…we'll send…for you. This is an emer…cy distress signal on behalf the…of Gold and the Clusted Sun."

Communications End.

Further Information?

"So something happened to these ships, forcing C'baoth and the other Jedi Masters to leave the ships here," Angela summarized to herself. "The rest of Outbound Flight went on ahead, but sent a message to the Core Worlds and nearby settlements to send a rescue squad out here." She rested her hands on the desk. "Computer, what was this ship's status five minutes before this message was sent?"

Ship's Log—The Heart Of Gold Lost All Power To Shield Generators. Weapons Were Malfunctioning Due To Massive Ion Disruption. Hull Integrity Compromised By Class-A Hull Breach On Port Side.

Further Information?

"What caused the damage?"

Unknown Weapon. Energy Signatures Match Those Of Class-A Nebular Electrical Storms.

Further Information?

An electrical storm would account for an excessive ion charge capable of knocking out both shields and weapons, but would it damage the hull? Angela was unsure; space meteorology was not one of her strong points. "Is there any record on the ship's sensors of a nebular electrical storm?"

Negative.

Further Information?

"No, that's all." Angela shut down the datapad and was left to ponder the implications of what she had learned.

She stretched out with the Force, hoping to find some remnant of the spirits of the Jedi Masters. Perhaps their souls had lingered here, where they might have met their deaths? It was a possibility to be explored. Her senses expanded, took in the entirety of the Metal Graveyard and then further outward. She encompassed the Lower Woodlands, from rock to tree.

She felt it. A lingering contamination, slick and oily, as if she were walking through sludge and breathing in smog. It made her retch. She reflexively cut off her extended senses before the toxic sensation could damage her further.

What the blazes was that? she wondered.

And that was when she heard Eve scream.