Star Wars_ Planet of Twilight - Barbara Hambly [44]
Bortrek halted in the middle of the bridge, looking from Threepio to Artoo-Detoo, who was still linked into the main navicomputer, absorbing readings and information whose echoes flashed across the screens all around him. Though, as Threepio had said, the guidance systems of the scout vessel had been damaged by collision with debris—rendering drift into interplanetary space almost inevitable had not Bortrek picked up their distress signal—the comm lines were still open. Artoo tweeped a string of information that made Threepio exclaim, “Good heavens!”
“What’s he say?” Bortrek was tallying up the burned-out consoles with a knowing eye.
“There are reports of revolt from Ampliquen and King’s Galquek, and according to Artoo, plague has broken out on the Durren base as well. This is terrible!”
“Terrible enough for me to get my tail out of here, anyway, Goldie.” Bortrek crossed to where Artoo stood and rapped with speculative knuckles on the little droid’s domed cap. “What model R2 is he, Goldie? Dee?”
“A dee, yes. They’re quite good models, and extremely versatile, though sometimes a little erratic. For any type of sheerly astromechanical or stellar navigation, one cannot better the records of the R2 series in general, and the dee models in particular—or so I’m told.”
Bortrek knelt and flipped open Artoo’s back panel, reaching in with an extractor he’d produced from the pocket of his reptile-leather vest. “So you are told that, are you?” Artoo emitted a little squeak, then withdrew his data jack from the port. “Well, Goldie, I been told that, too. So I’ll tell you what. You and him just head on back to the primary lock and wait for me on the bridge of the Sabacc. I’ll be over in a while.”
“We really are very fortunate, you know,” Threepio said, as he and Artoo crossed through the narrow neck of the port-to-port tunnel that linked the two ships. “With trade being turned away and rebellion on the planet, and now plague as well, no ships of hyperspace capability are going to be leaving the Durren system for quite some time. The Meridian sector is very thinly inhabited and well out of most trade routes. We could have drifted for years—centuries, perhaps—before we were discovered. By that time, goodness knows what might have befallen Her Excellency.”
Artoo vouchsafed no reply. Threepio guessed that Captain Bortrek had disabled a portion of the little astromech’s motivator, a wise precaution, perhaps. Artoo was unaccountable sometimes and might have refused to abandon the patently useless scout.
“Once we reach Cybloc XII, we can notify the proper authorities of Her Excellency’s whereabouts. I doubt it would be safe to do so from this ship or in fact to let Captain Bortrek know of the matter at all. Grateful as I am for the rescue, one cannot be sure of such a man’s loyalties. But I’m sure that we can put in a voucher to the Central Council to make ample remuneration to him for his trouble …”
He broke off, leaving his speculation unfinished, as they emerged from the Pure Sabacc’s lock into her main holding bay. Strongboxes were stacked casually against the walls—one of them, open, showed bundles of bearer-bonds and a considerable quantity of gold coins. Another was filled beyond closing point with platinum and electrum cast into shapes that Threepio immediately identified as sacred to four of the six main faiths currently fashionable on the planet Durren: Reliquaries, monstrances, jeweled prayer-wheels tumbled at random and bent to accommodate the confines of the chest. Items too large for easy storage—statues and pieces of furniture clearly valuable for their workmanship and materials—were tumbled and shoved in corners, along with roughly tied masses of embroidered velvets and precious stohl fur, and more sacks that had the unmistakable shape of coinage.
“Good heavens!” Threepio exclaimed in surprise. “Judging from the latest market