Showdown At Centerpoint

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Showdown At Centerpoint Page 7

by Roger MacBride Allen


  reluctantly. "Do you remember what happened the last time you heard that

  chime and you kept going?" "A trapdoor opened," Anakin said, suddenly

  finding reasons to look everywhere but at Q9. "Yes. A trapdoor opened. Under

  me. And I fell into a waste disposal ehute. If I had not managed to jump my

  repulsors to high power in time and bounce back up, what would I be right

  now?" "Mashed down to a ten-centimeter cube. Unless the machine had melted

  you down by now." "Quite right. But Chewbacea only found that out afterward,

  didn't he?" "I helped him," Anakin protested. "Yes, you did. And we need you

  around to help him more. So what would we do if the trapdoor was under you

  this time?" Anakin's eyes grew wide with alarm. "Oh," he said. "Maybe I'd

  better stop and let Chewie look." "Maybe you'd better," agreed Q9. "Come on,

  let's go find the others." Anakin nodded. "Okay," he said, and turned back

  the way they had come. Q9 followed after on his repulsors, relieved that

  Anakin had decided to be cooperative-this time. Q9-X2 had been designed with

  the capacity to learn new behaviors by trial and error, but he had never

  expected to use that capacity to learn practical child psychology. The

  skills required to handle Anakin with even marginal success were taking up

  an inordinate portion of system resources. Q9 decided he was going to have

  to perform a partial memory wipe on himself, and free up some capacity, when

  this was over. If it ever was over. As they came out of the side passage and

  into the central chamber, Q9 reflected that this situation was starting to

  look rather permanent. They were a motley crew, all of them holed up in this

  huge and alien place. Anakin and Q9 paused at the exit from the side passage

  and looked around. Seen from this vantage point, the rcpulsor chamber seemed

  too large and obvious for a hiding place, but, from the surface, Q9 knew

  just how difficult it would be for outsiders to find this place. It was

  shielded from every detection system that Q9 knew about-with the exception

  of Anakin Solo. He had found this chamber-and Us identical twin on

  Corellia-with no trouble whatsoever. And there were good reasons for hiding

  the chamber. It contained the planetary repulsor that had propelled Drall

  into its current orbit, unknown millennia ago. Likewise with Corellia and,

  no doubt, with the other inhabited worlds of the Corellia system-Selonia and

  the Double Worlds, Talus and Trains. Each of them had a hidden chamber like

  this one. Each of them had a planetary repulsor like this one. And each of

  them had been transported into the Corellian system long, long ago, by some

  long-forgotten race for some long-forgotten reason. But now the hunt for the

  repulsors was on. The party in the repulsor chamber had been cut off from

  outside contact for some time, but the last information they had was that

  the rebel forces on at least some and probably all of the inhabited worlds

  were actively searching for the repulsors. The reason was not entirely

  clear. While the repulsors would make powerful and effective weapons, they

  were not war-winners, not by any means. According to Ehrihim, a planetary

  repulsor could be used to knock out a ship in orbit- but it would be hard to

  aim and unwieldy to use. There would be the element of surprise, but only

  the first time the repulsor was used. There were other, simpler, cheaper,

  more reliable ways of shooting down enemy spacecraft, and many of them were

  available to the rebel groups. So why were they expending precious time and

  effort in the middle of a war in order to find weapons of marginal utility?

  Q9 gave it up. He had come to that point in the analysis two hundred

  thirty-nine times before, and it didn't seem likely that an answer that did

  not spring to mind any of those times would do so on the two hundred

  fortieth attempt. Instead, he admired the strange and massive forms that

  made up the main planetary repulsor chamber. The chamber itself was a huge

  vertical cone, just under a kilometer from lop to bottom, the walls of which

  appeared to be gleaming, perfect metallic silver. At the base of the conical

  chamber were six smaller cones of the same silver material, each just over

  one hundred meters tall. They were spaced evenly around a circle centered on

  the axis of the pyramid. In the exact center of the chamber's base was a

  seventh, larger cone, twice as tall as the others, but with the same slender

  proportions. Passages to side chambers were spaced around the circumference

  of the chamber, and vertical shafts in the floor of the chamber led to a

  series of lower levels they hadn't even started to explore. It was a huge,

  artificial, gleaming, impersonal alien place-and a ramshackle, improvised,

  crude, homey-looking campsite was sitting right in the middle of it. right

  by the base of the central cone. No doubt to human or Drallish-or even

  Wookiee-eyes, the camp looked incongruous enough. To the droid's eyes, it

  looked absurd. The Millennium Falcon was there-and it had been a very close

  job flying it into trie concealed topside entrance. The Duchess's hoverear

  was parked alongside it. A line with washing on it was strung between the

  Falcon's topside parabolic antenna and a spike antenna on the roof of the

  hovercar. Chewbacca was trying to use as little power as possible, to reduce

  the chance of detection. Even the Falcon's clothes drier was off for the

  duration. Folding chairs and tables were set up to one side of the two

  vehicles, and the children, tired of the close confines of the Falcon, had

  moved their sleeping pads outside and under the ship. As always, the

  children had arranged their beds so they could all sleep together-the twins'

  beds close together, with Anakin just a bit farther off. 09 could see all

  the rest of the party from here- Jacen and Jaina carrying some sort of gear

  out of the Millennium Falcon; Chewbacca the Wookiee, sitting at his camp

  chair, fiddling with some recalcitrant bit of hardware or other; and the two

  Drall, Ebrihim and his aunt, Mareha, the Duchess of Mastigophorous, at the

  other end of the table, hunched over their own work. The two Drall, like all

  of their species, were rather short by human standards, Ebrihim being just

  about Jacen's'height. They were short-limbed and thick -bodied- downright

  plump, in fact-and covered with thick brown fur. As Q9 had learned, to human

  eyes they tended to look like stuffed toy animals. Some humans found them

  hard to take seriously-but failing to take Drall seriously was always a huge

  mistake. They were sober, serious, levelheaded beings in general. Even if

  Ebrihim was found to be a bit Highly by Drallish standards, his aunt was one

  of the most commonsensical beings Q9 had ever met. No doubt Anakin's latest

  somewhat unnerving discovery would give them something else to work on, give

  them another piece to the puzzle they were struggling to put together. They

  intended to develop a useful understanding of the repulsor's control system.

  All in all, Q9 felt, the two Drall had the hardest job of anyone in the

  camp. The hardest job besides waiting, of course. And they were all doing

  that. "Come on, Q9," said Anakin. "Quit dawdling." Another bit of child<
br />
  psychology to note down-no matter how slow they might be when one was

  waiting for them, no caregiver had ever moved fast enough when it was the

  child doing the waiting. "Coming, Anakin." Jaccn set down the crate he was

  lugging out of the Fa/con, looked up, and saw Q9 and Anakin heading back to

  camp. "Finally," he said. "I thought they'd never get back. Now we can eat."

  "Darn. We can? Maybe we can get them to stay away a little longer." Jaina

  set down her own crate and waved to Anakin. Her little brother waved back.

  "Come on, the survival rations aren't that bad." "They aren't that good,

  either. Especially the nine millionth time in a row. I think they call them

  survival rations because no one knows if you'll survive eating them." "Ha

  ha. Very funny. I think you've told me that joke nine million times-and it

  wasn't so good the first time." "Sorry," Jaina said, sitting down on her

  crate. "Not much new inspiration here." "I know, I know," Jacen said.

  "Things here don't change much." He could have gone and checked the

  Millennium Falcon's chronometer, but without that and Chewbacca's rigid

  insistence that they all eat and sleep at normal intervals, there was no

  elue at all to how much time had passed. The light in the chamber was

  unchangeably bright, coming from some diffuse and undefinable source in the

  upper reaches of the cavern. There was no sound at all from the massive

  cavern, except the sound of their own moving around and talking. But every

  sound anyone made produced a series of faint, distant echoes, whispering

  down from the top of the chamber for long seconds afterward. And the echoes

  of every sound mingled with all the others, Anakin's laughter blending with

  Chewbacca's growl or the whir of a machine, or the bang of a camp chair

  bumping into a table merging with the low, serious voices of the two Drail

  in conversation with each other. Whenever the camp was busy and active,

  there was a constant whisper of background echoes reverberating down from

  above, just enough to make the chamber seem less foreboding and empty. But

  five or ten seconds after they stopped moving or talking, the chamber would

  fall silent again, and the stillness would seem to shout louder than any

  noise how strange this place was, how old its flawless gleaming silver

  walls, how alien and powerful its capabilities. Night-or what they pretended

  was night-was the hardest. With the silver walls still gleaming in the

  unchanging light, they would go to bed-the children to their sleeping pads

  in the shadow of the Falcon, Chewbacca to his usual shipboard bunk, the two

  Drall to foldout beds in Aunt Marcha's hovercar, and Q9 plugged into a

  charge stand. Then, all would be so quiet that the slightest noise seemed to

  echo forever. A cough, a whisper, Ebrihini's muttering snore-or Anakin

  crying in his sleep-seemed to carry up to heaven and come down again and

  again. It was not the best way to live, Jacen reflected. But in a sense, it

  was not a way of life at all. It was a way of waiting. All of them, even

  Anakin, seemed to know things could not last this way forever-or even for

  very long. There was a war being fought out there, and sooner or later, one

  side or the other would find this place, and after that- After that, no one

  even pretended to know what would happen. "Sit up properly, Anakin," said

  the Duchess Marcha, "and stop banging your foot against the table leg. The

  noise is bad enough, but the echoes will drive me to distraction." She shook

  her head and looked toward her nephew, Ebrihim. "Honestly, nephew, I do not

  understand these human children. What does Anakin gain by slouching over and

  making such irritating noises?" "I have not dealt with them long enough to

  obtain a clear answer, dearest aunt. However, I might add that it would seem

  that even human parents do not understand the purpose behind much of what

  human chil-dren do-and that in spite of having once been children

  themselves." "Somehow, that docs not surprise me. I suppose our own young

  ones can be some trouble, but I must say I have no recollection at all of

  your misbehaving as badly as Anakin does." "Don't talk like I'm not here!"

  Anakin shouted indignantly. These Drall grown-ups were worse than regular

  human grown-ups for pushing kids around. "I was just thinking about stuff."

  "What kind of stuff?" Jaina asked. All of them ganging up on him, even the

  other kids. "Just stuff." Anakin said, frowning fiercely. "Well, Anakin,

  there is certainly nothing wrong with thinking," said Aunt Marcha. "I'm sure

  the universe would be a better place if we all indulged in the practice a

  bit more. If you could do your thinking without the banging, that would be a

  great help. All right?" "All right," Anakin said, still feeling kind of

  grouchy. But he knew he was lucky they had stopped asking questions when

  they had. Because of all that Jedi stuff, he would have had to tell the

  truth if they asked more, or his brother and sister would catch him fibbing,

  and then he'd be in even more trouble. Sometimes Jacen and Jaina acted just

  like grown-ups. If he had told them he had been thinking about that control

  panel Q9 had told him to stop fooling with, they all would have yelled at

  him. He knew he could get it to do something. Something big, and important.

  What, exactly, he wasn't sure. But something. He could feel that. It was

  like the control panel was calling to him, asking him to hurry back and set

  the machinery free, let it go out and do the work it was supposed to do. But

  it didn't matter. They hadn't asked him about it. So he could think about it

  all he liked. "Come, dearest aunt," said Ebrihim to the Duchess. "It is

  late. Everyone else is asleep. We have made great progress, but we can do no

  more with our researches tonight." The two Drall were sitting in the

  hovercar. reviewing their notes for the day. And Ebrihim was right. They

  could go no further for the moment. "Whatever progress we have made is only

  the barest start toward understanding this place," the Duchess replied. "We

  have some idea of how the alien keypads are laid out, and what- some of the

  button markings and color coding seem to mean. But going from there to

  operating this place, and shutting it down safely-a machine that has been

  operating for at least tens of thousands of years and perhaps much longer?

  We have no idea how the system draws its power. Suppose we do learn how to

  turn it off. Where does the power go once it is not coming here? If it is

  some sort of geologic energy tap, as I suspect, we might set off massive

  seismic disturbances. I think it most probable that this chamber is but one

  part of a much larger system. I suspect this is merely the nozzle, if you

  will, for a propulsion system woven into the very being of this world. We

  are dealing with a device that can move a planet. A device of that power

  could also destroy a planet, if it was not used properly. I do not see any

  way of learning all we need to know in any reasonable period of time."

  Ebrihim smiled faintly and let out a short bark of a laugh. "Unless, of

  course, we simply instruct Anakin to find the main control panel and then

  set him loose on it." Marcha's eyes widen
ed in horror. "Do not say such a

  thing, nephew. Not even in jest. Jokes like that have a way of coming true."

  Anakin's eyes snapped open so suddenly it startled him. He was, quite

  abruptly, wide awake and staring up at the under hull of the Millennium

  Falcon. He sat up quietly and looked around. Jacen and Jaina were still

  sound asleep. Chewbacca was a deep enough sleeper that Anakin didn't even

  worry about him. Ebrihim and Aunt Marcha were in the hoverear. Anakin turned

  and looked in that direction. All the car's lights were out. the windows

  darkened, and the hatch was shut. That left Q9. The droid spent most nights

  in standby mode, partially powered down, plugged into a portable charging

  stand between trie hoverear and the Falcon, with his back to the larger

  craft. Anakin also knew that the bulk of the Falcon would block nearly al!

  of the droid's sensors. So long as he kept the ship between himself and Q9,

  he ought to be able to sneak away without any problems. Moving as silently

  as he could, he pushed back his blanket and rolled over so he was on his

  hands and knees. He crawled out from under the Falcon, and.into the endless

  bright light of the repulsor chamber. Anakin blinked once or twice as he got

  to his feet. Strange to be sneaking around in light as bright as day. But

  there was no time to worry about that kind of stuff. Someone might wake up

  any second and notice he was gone. Padding along in his bare feet, clad only

  in his underwear, Anakin moved straight out for the perimeter of the huge

  chamber, glancing over his shoulder now and then to make sure that he was

  keeping the Falcon between himself and Q9. He reached the perimeter and

  trotted unhesitatingly into the closest tunnel entrance. The passage he

  wanted was almost on the other side of the chamber from here, but that did

  not worry him. The others might get lost in the side passages, but not

  Anakin. He could feel which way was the right way. He moved unerringly

  through the complicated maze of passages, taking every turning and passage

  with absolute confidence. He eould feel the panel getting closer. Closer.

  And there it was, just as he had left it, the initial keypad open and

  waiting. He stared at it for a minute, then reached out his hand and held

  it, palm down, over the pad. He closed his eyes, reached out, and fell the

 

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