Before the Storm - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [75]
Almost at once the room was filled by an eerie echo of the vagabond’s hailing signal—distinctively different, but unmistakably the work of the same composer.
“All right,” Lando said, punching the air with a fist. “That’s the key. We’re going in the front door. Threepio, Lobot, tell me all about the Qella. Maybe we can get an edge.”
“Master Lando, for some reason I do not understand, I do not have any information on the language and customs of the Qella,” said Threepio. “But now that we know the owners of this vessel, we must return it to them. It would be a serious breach of etiquette to enter it without an invitation.”
“Are you saying you’d refuse to send the response—”
“One moment, Lando,” said Lobot. “I have been accessing all records available to me, and I believe I know the reason, Threepio. The best-established fact seems to be that the Qella have been extinct for more than one hundred fifty years.”
“Extinct?” Lando said in surprise. “I guess we can’t hang that one on the Emperor. What happened to them?”
“According to a report in the Galactic Survey,” Lobot said, “their planet appeared to have been struck by several large asteroids, and its ecosystem destroyed.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Lando frowning. “Any world that could build something like the vagabond should have been able to push an off-course asteroid or three out of the way.” He shook his head. “One mystery just leads to another.”
Nodding, Lando said, “Perhaps the answers to all of them wait for us inside the Qella vessel.”
Lando’s expression darkened. “Except there isn’t going to be any ‘us.’ The colonel’s only giving me one ticket for the boat, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t come with a front-row seat.”
“I’m certain that if you tell him what we’ve discovered, he’ll make room for all of us,” said Threepio. “It would be the reasonable thing to do.”
“Hortek are only reasonable when they don’t have the upper hand,” said Lando. “And he thinks he does.”
He paced. The others waited.
“You know, there’s only one way we’re going to know if this really is the key,” he said finally. “Otherwise, we might just be believing what we want to.”
“I agree,” said Lobot.
“And Pakkpekatt’s going to want evidence. It’s clear that, to him, we’re just baggage he couldn’t manage to dump. I wouldn’t exactly say he’s been cooperative.”
“No,” said Lobot.
Lando nodded slowly. “Threepio, Artoo, it’s been a long day—or I suppose it’s night by now. And tomorrow could be a longer one. I want you both to power down, recharge, and run your system optimizers. Set your reactivation clocks for thirteen hundred hours. That will give us plenty of time.”
“Shouldn’t we notify Colonel Pakkpekatt first, Master Lando?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Lando said, with a glance at Lobot’s impassive face.
“Very well, sir. Closing down.” The droid’s eyes dimmed instantly.
A moment later Artoo rolled over to the power port, hooked up to it, and echoed the acknowledgment before its displays also went dark.
Lando slid easily back into a chair at the table and studied Lobot with one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Are you sure about this?”
“It is our theory,” said Lobot. “It’s right that we should take the risk.”
“All right, then,” said Lando, leaning back in his chair. “In that case, you and I’d better get some rest, too. Tomorrow’s gonna be an interesting day.”
* * *
A few minutes before 1300 hours, Lando and Lobot slid into the cockpit couches aboard Lady Luck.
“I figure we have twelve seconds minimum before they try to get a lock on us,” said Lando. “I intend to be inside no-man’s-land by then. He’s been so scared to even ping the ship that no one on that bridge is going to be in a hurry to point a tractor beam in that direction.”
“That will require a very high rate of acceleration.”
Lando nodded, his lips