Star Wars_ Millennium Falcon - James Luceno [3]
Kantt gave his head a clearing shake and slammed his palm down on the console's communicator button. “We need a live crew at Alley Four sublight test fire—now!”
Sucking in his breath, he planted his other palm on the console and leaned forward in time to see an emergency sled nose from an up-alley vehicle bay. Little more than an engine surmounted by a cage of vertical and horizontal poles, the sled carried six wranglers outfitted in yellow EVA suits, helmets, and jetpacks. All carried assortments of cutting torches, hydrospanners, and shaped-charge detonators that hung from their belts like weapons. Kantt had a friend on the team, who like the rest lived for emergency situations. But a rogue ship was something entirely new.
Initially the sled pilot appeared to be having as much trouble matching the YT's maneuvers as the grappler droids had had. The freighter's sudden jukes and twists owed to nothing more than intermittent firings of the thrusters and attitude jets, but there were moments when the maneuvers struck Kantt as inspired. As if the ship were taking evasive action or in a race to reach the sublight engine test station ahead of its more compliant ilk.
Dire thoughts edged into Kantt's mind of what might happen if the ship couldn't be reined in by then. Would the overfueled YT burn itself to a cinder? Detonate, taking the entire alley with it? Open a vacuum breach in the facility and launch for the stars?
Gradually, the sled pilot found the rhythm of the firings and was able to bring the skeletal vehicle alongside the YT. Rocketing from the sled, the wranglers alighted on the freighter, anchoring themselves to places on the hull with magclamps and suction holdfasts. Raised up on its stern like some unbroken acklay in a creature show, the YT refused to surrender any of its determination to shake them off. But slow and consistent effort allowed one of the wranglers to reach the dorsal hull access hatch and disappear into the ship. When he did, the execs hooted a cheer Kantt prayed wasn't premature.
Only when the ship quieted did he realize that he had been holding his breath, and he let it out with a long, plosive exhale, wiping sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his shirt. The cheering gave way to relieved backslapping and rapid exchanges as to how to get the line moving again. With waiting lists for the YT growing longer every day, production would have to be increased. Vacation leaves would have to be canceled. Overtime would become the norm.
Kantt and Bon didn't linger.
“Born of fire,” the tech said as they were passing through the Dralls' station. “That YT,” he added when Kantt glanced at him. “A hero's birth if I ever witnessed one. When has that happened?”
Kantt made a face. “It's a freighter, Bon. One of a hundred million.”
Bon grinned. “If you ask me, more like one in a hundred million.”
CORUSCANT
DURING THE BATTLE OF CORUSCANT,
19 YEARS BEFORE THE BATTLE OF YAVIN
“YOU GOTTA LOVE THIS SHIP,” REEZE SAID.
“She knows her job, all right.”
Jadak slipped the freighter in between a Corellian transport and a Santhe/Sienar passenger ship, then stood YT 492727ZED on her side to ease past the transport and continue to maneuver toward the front of the pack. Reeze muted the cockpit's enunciators so they wouldn't have to listen to the pilots and navigators who were cursing them out.
“Maybe they'll give us ownership after this run.”
“We can hope,” Jadak said.
“Ten years of sticking our necks out, Tobb. There should be a law.”
“There should be, but there isn't. Besides, I'm just trying to help keep the galaxy on course. What's your excuse?”
“Like I told you, I want this ship to be ours.”
Both pilots were human, Jadak a bit taller and twenty years younger, with a lighter complexion and a clipped beard that accented a square jaw. Reeze was graying at the temples but clear-eyed and as fit as an athlete. A traffic jam was the last thing they had expected to encounter at Coruscant, but the Separatists' attack on the galactic capital