THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  "I can try," Lobot said, and began stripping off his suit so he could

  enter the inner passages.

  "Do you want me to go in with you?"

  "No," Lobot said. "But come in after me if I have not returned in

  twenty minutes."

  While he waited, Lando reactivated Artoo and, for the first time since

  the incident with the beckon call, Threepio.

  "Good day, Master Lando," Threepio said brightly, with no apparent

  awareness of Lando's lingering grudge. "My word, but my circuits are

  clear this morning. I haven't felt this way since my last

  defrag-mentation diagnostic. I hope you are feeling well.

  Where is Master Lobot? He hasn't been harmed, has he? I see his

  contact suit, but I don't see him anywhere.

  Artoo, my dear friend and companion--how have you been? Please tell me

  everything. Master Lando, my system controller is still showing a

  low-power alarm. Have you located a power coupling yet? This ship has

  a distinctly droid-hostile design, not to have made them more readily

  available--" "Threepio," Lando said sharply.

  The droid's head swiveled toward him. "Yes, Master Lando?"

  "Shut up."

  "Of course, sir."

  Artoo loosed a wheep that might have been an expression of relief.

  Lando turned to him and asked, "Artoo, will you scan local space for

  comm traffic? We just might be back somewhere near civilization."

  "Oh, I do hope so, sir--" Threepio began, until Lando silenced him with

  a glare.

  Before long, Lobot emerged from the forward inner portal and rejoined

  them.

  "Any luck?"

  "I am not certain," said Lobot. "It said we should go back to the

  auditorium. At least, I think that's where we're to go--as best as I

  can translate, it called that chamber the Reflection of the Essential

  Infinities."

  "But the orrery was destroyed."

  "Perhaps not rebuilding it was a choice, not a necessity."

  "All right," Lando said, gesturing with both hands.

  "Let's go find out."

  When all four members of the quartet were clinging somewhere on the

  auditorium's inner face, the chamber's outer face once again underwent

  the transformation to a great transparent panel. Once more they found

  themselves suspended in space, looking down on the sphere of a planet,

  and beyond it to the disc of a blue star.

  "What's going on here?" Lando cried in dismay.

  "Lobot, what did you ask for? This is a different planetary system. 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 hell 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 analyze.

  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 analysis 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 principal 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 orbit,

  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 passive 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

  passes 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

  spacing, 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 assuming 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, hoarse 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 th
e

  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.

  Never before, though, had it arrived here crippled-burned and poisoned

  by the intense energies that had poured in through the same aperture

  through which N'oka Brath fed it. The burns had healed, but the

  poisons lingered, and with them a memory of the form and action of the

  attacker.

  And never before had it found others waiting--tiny creatures sharing

  the circles above Brath Qella, the homestone, the place of beginning.