The Black Fleet Crisis_ Tyrant's Test Part 41

I don't want a tour of the astrographic catalog."

"I believe your first impression has misled you," said Lobot. "This is the same system."

"The h.e.l.l it is. Look, that planet is an iceball," Lando said. "It looks like Hoth." He shook his head.

"Oh, blast--this must mean the vagabond didn't make it home."

"I think you are mistaken," said Lobot. "Artoo, scan and a.n.a.lyze.

Compare with your recordings of our first visit to this chamber."

"Oh, come on--the other planet had two moons," Lando said. "I don't have to have an a.n.a.lysis module to see that there aren't any moons."

Lando squinted at the orrery. "But there is something there, in orbit.

Something tiny."

"The moons could both be eclipsed from our perspective."

The astromech droid squawked briefly. "Pardon me, Master Lobot,"

Threepio interrupted. "Artoo-Detoo says that the princ.i.p.al elements of this display are identical in both absolute and apparent size to the one we previously viewed."

"I told you," said Lobot. "Lando, what we saw the first time was Qella as it was when the vagabond last saw it. What we see now is Qella as it now appears."

Threepio resumed his report as soon as Lobot stopped speaking.

"Artoo also says that there is no correspondence in size, number, or orbital configuration between the minor elements of this display and the earlier one" "That's what I was trying to tell you," said Lando.

"If that's Qella, where are the moons? This isn't of any use to us.

It's a one-size-fits-all planetarium show."

Artoo began chirping more urgently. "Artoo says, however, that he can identify four of the minor elements," Threepio reported. "The largest and closest of them is--" "--is this ship," Lobot exulted. "Lando, it's a real- time tracking display--a scale model of the neighborhood, including this vessel."

"What? Artoo, illuminate this object you're talking about with your laser pointer."

"It's right there in front of your eyes," Lobot said.

"It's just small--I said scale model. Threepio, what are the other objects Artoo can identify?"

Threepio nodded formally. "Of course, sir. The other objects are all orbiting the planet. In increasing order of size, they are a New Republic Engineering orbital relay satellite, a SoroSuub PLY-Three-thousand, and a Dobrutz DB-Four starliner--" "Just a--SoroSuub Three thousand? That's Lady Luck!" Lando shouted, punching the air with a fist.

"I can't believe it--we're going to get out of here! Where is she? Artoo, illuminate Lady Luck--show me where my lovely lady is--" The request was lost in the sounds of exuberant rejoicing coming from the droids and reverberating off the faces of the chamber.

Only Lobot did not join in the celebration. "Lando, please--wait,"

he said. "There's still something very wrong."

"What are you talking about?" Lando said, letting go of his handhold and drifting down in front of Lobot.

"Our ride is here. All we have to do is ask the vagabond to sheathe her claws and then call Lady Luck alongside.

Food, a hot shower--gravity--" Lobot shook his head. "Lando, please listen--you were right. If this is Qella--if this model is accurate enough to show us objects the size of an orbital relay satellite, in enough detail for Artoo to identify it- - where are the moons of Maltha Obex?"

"What's our strategy?" asked Colonel Hammax, studying the tracking display over Pakkpekatt's right shoulder.

"Given that she's a hundred times as large as we are, and considerably more than a hundred times as powerful, it seems to me the real question on the table is, what's her strategy?"

"How close are you going to let her get?"

Pakkpekatt pawed his chest. "That, too, depends on her."

"The effective radius of the vagabond's defensive zone at Gmar Askilon was twelve kilometers," said Taisden. "Given the size of this...o...b..t, we shouldn't have any trouble keeping a cushion of twelve hundred kilometers, which I hope would be more than sufficient."

"Shouldn't we at least try to contact General Calrissian?" asked Hammax.

"I don't want to spook the vagabond," said Pakkpekatt. "We got along very well with her at Gmar Askilon so long as we were sitting still and in a pa.s.sive sensing mode. Let's stay that way until we have a better idea why she's here."

"Sure seems like it'd be nice to know if anyone's alive," said Hammax.

"If I'm going to have to go inside--" "There will be time for that," said Pakkpekatt.

"For now, I want silence. Can you reach Penga Rift with a directional comm signal?"

"For another minute or so. She's about to go over the horizon to nightside."

"Notify them what we're doing--instruct them to observe a comm and sensor blackout, and to stand by." Pakkpekatt studied the tracking display. "Patience will serve us best now."

"Look, this isn't that complicated," Lando said impatiently, squeezing into the tubule beside Lobot. "Tell it we want to leave. Get it to promise not to fry my yacht when it tries to come alongside. That's all we want that's all we're asking. Then we'll be gone, and it can go where it wants and do what it wants."

"If it tries to go anywhere, it might destroy itself," said Lobot.

"I have to make it understand that first."

"As long as we're not on it when that happens, what do we care?"

Lando demanded. "For all I know, those droids are back there plotting to duplicate the beckon call signal I wouldn't put it past either of them to take things into their own hands."

"Your response to these developments seems to have an alarmingly narrow focus," said Lobot. "You are indifferent to the fate of this vessel, to the mystery concerning the planet's moons, to why Lady Luck is even here--" "That's right. All I care about right now is getting out of here alive," said Lando. "And if you're worrying about anything else, I say you're the one with the problem.

Come on, I can already taste the tranna nougat and doth brandy waiting for me in my suite. Say 'pardon me' and then palaver your persuasive head off until you have a docking permit for our lifeboat and exit pa.s.ses for us."

"I will see what can be done," Lobot said with a frown. "But I don't know why you think anything has changed. The vagabond will not take instructions from me."

"If you care what happens to this ship, you'd better hope you're wrong," Calrissian said. "Because if Lady Luck's here, the rest of the task force can't be far away.

And if Glorious and Marauder have to break us out, it's not going to be gentle or pretty."

"I will try," said Lobot.

Lando clapped him on the thigh. "That's the fellow.

I'll be nearby."

The vagabond made its approach to Maltha Obex at high speed, slowing only at the last to settle into a retrograde high equatorial orbit.

Orbiting more slowly than the planet turned, the vagabond would linger on the dayside for nearly thirty hours while the planet seemed to slowly spin backward beneath it.

"What do you think this is about?" Pakkpekatt asked. "Anyone?"

"A very detailed surface scan," said Taisden. "She's looking for something."

"Or she's sunbathing," said Hammax. "It's cold where she's been,"

he added when the others looked at him quizzically. "Dr. Eckels said it's a biological, didn't he?"

"Let us be careful not to anthropomorphize," said Pakkpekatt.

"Agent Taisden, it appears that the vessel's present orbit will bring her very close- to us shortly before she crosses the terminator."

"Sixty kilometers," said Taisden. "And within sixty kilometers of Penga Rift nineteen hours after that. How comfortable are we with that s.p.a.cing, Colonel?"

"I would prefer not to be that close."

"There's no way we can change our own orbit without calling attention to ourselves," said Taisden. "If she stays where she is--"

Pakkpekatt hissed and shook himself. It went against both habit and nature for him to take the initiative in such a situation. "We may have no choice but to call attention to ourselves in one way or another," he said, sitting back in his couch.

"And if we must do so, it is better done when the vagabond is still a generous distance away."

"She'll never be farther away than she is right now."

Pakkpekatt reached forward and cradled the flight controls lightly in his hands. "Notify the others what we are doing. Then page Calrissian on the frequency he was using for his suit comm at Gmar Askilon.

Bounce the page through the satellite."

"Wait--what happens if the yacht's slave circuits are activated again?" asked Hammax. "We seem to be a.s.suming they won't be. Even if the general and his aide are out of it, couldn't one of the droids send the signal?"

"We will have to trust that they will not do so if it is not safe to do so," said Pakkpekatt. "Send the page."

Moments later, they heard Lando Calrissian's voice, shaky, hoa.r.s.e and impatient, saying, "Yes, what is it, Threepio? What's happening now?"

"Sir, I did not--" "Calrissian!" Pakkpekatt roared. "What are you doing alive?"

"Pakkpekatt!" Calrissian answered in kind. "What are you doing on my ship? And why are you just sitting there?"

"Hey, General--we're still waiting for our invitation," said Hammax.

"Hammax? Is that you?"

"They kept telling me you were dead, but I told them they were being overly optimistic."

"Spoken like a man on the wrong end of a gambling debt," said Lando.

"Tell you what, Colonel--I'll forgive half of it for a ride back to Imperial City."

"Better sweeten that offer--I can get clear of the whole thing if we take you back in a box."

Even though his own outburst had triggered the torrent of animated familiarity, Pakkpekatt made an ef fort to reclaim and restrain the conversation. "General Calrissian, please advise your status."

"Status? Let's see, what don't you know? The ship's empty---completely automated, bioengineered.

No one else is aboard. We're all more or less well.

Lobot, haven't you gotten anywhere yet? Are you hearing all of this?

What's your status, Colonel? Where's the task force?"

"We are the task force now," said Pakkpekatt.

"The rest were recalled to other duty, and you and your party were written off."

"That's not funny, Colonel," said Lando. "The admiral would never do that."

"Which admiral? Coruscant is overrun with them," said Hammax.

"General Rieekan redlined the mission after you ran off with his date."

Pakkpekatt rebuked the colonel with a glance.

"General Calrissian, we've been looking for you ever since your escape.

We believe we have a complete Qella genetic sequence, and we have an autoresponder set up.

Rather than force the issue, I'd like to wait and see--" Laughing tiredly, Lando said, "Predictable. Isn't this where we started, Colonel?"

"--if we can't get, as Colonel Hammax said, an invitation,"

Pakkpekatt continued. "I understand you must be eager to get out. But can you hold out a few more hours so we have a chance to--as someone once suggested I might. consider--pick a lock rather than blow one up?"

Lando sighed. "I bow to the indisputable wisdom of your advisor. We can hold out a bit longer."

Hour after hour, the vagabond searched the surface of Maltha Obex, listening for the sign it had been told to wait for, waiting for the cue that would tell it what to do next.

Five times before, it had come here, obediently following the plan built into its very substance, trying to keep an appointment with those who had shaped it and sent it into the void. Five times it had lingered, searching, waiting, bathing in the rich energies of N'oka Brath, the glowstone.

Five times it had gone away again, not aware enough to be disappointed, but knowing that its purpose was unfulfilled.