Star Wars_ The Adventures of Lando Calrissia - L. Neil Smith [115]
“We still have that dead-reckoning program of yours?” Reflexively, he flicked ash off his cigarette. It drifted in the cabin, finally settling on Vuffi Raa’s carapace. The droid, equally absently, flicked it off. It broke up and they both lost sight of it.
“Yes, Master—with what amounts to a big ball of unknown squiggles at the end of it where you evaded those fighters.”
“Can you estimate how big a ball?”
“Yes, certainly. From the power consumption, if nothing else.”
“Then that’s our margin for error. We simply follow the course as if we’d never deviated and hunt through a sphere of space the same size for Bohhuah Mutdah’s estate.”
“I’m afraid not, Master, if for no other reason than that the sphere doesn’t stay the same size. It increases as a function of probable error as we travel sunward. During Flamewind, there’s no way of accurately estimating drift, and—”
“Does that catalog of yours give details on Mutdah’s asteroid?”
“Fifty-seven ninety-two? Yes, Master, I—”
“Then it should give us some hints about the other asteroids around there; it’s interested in the weird shape of this one. Let’s get as close as we can, then pick our way, rock by rock, until we find the right one.”
“Very well, Master, I see no other alternative.”
“Neither do I. Now, while we’re still up here and have some privacy, we’re going to talk about who it is this time that’s trying to kill me.”
“We’re nearly a day behind schedule!” Bassi Vobah protested. They were sitting in the lounge again. Lando had powered up the gravity, assuring himself beforehand that his passenger with the broken legs was settled comfortably, and asked Vuffi Raa to prepare another meal before they started.
“Do you realize,” the female officer continued to an unappreciative audience in general and an increasingly irritated Lando in particular, “that, under ordinary conditions, this trip would have required a little over two hours?”
“As an inhabitant of the Oseon System, my dear hired gun, you should appreciate better than anyone else the inapplicability of the expression ‘Ordinary conditions.’ There’s a storm going on out there, and although I’m not altogether unwilling to venture out in it again, some preparation is essential.”
“Captain, may I remind you that the discretion in this matter isn’t wholly yours to—”
“Officer, may I remind you that I am the captain, and that, if you continue nagging me, I’m going to take that blaster away from you and stuff it up your nose?”
The policewoman blinked, sat back in stunned outrage. Even her superiors had never spoken to her like that! Lando grinned—not altogether unironically, and laid down the law:
“Now see here: one of you attempted to murder me when I was outside the ship. I’m going to be rather busy when we quit this refuge, both Vuffi Raa and I are, and I don’t want to have to watch my back. Therefore, until we can arrive at an agreement concerning arrangements, we will sit right here. My inclination—and if you think I’m joking, you’re woefully deceived—is to handcuff the pair of you together until we get to 5792. Unless you can think of an alternative that suits you better—and will satisfy me—that is what we’ll do.
“Or we’ll park here until the Core freezes over.”
Bassi Vobah sat in angry silence, her arms folded across her chest, a sour expression on her face. Waywa Fybot blinked his huge blue eyes, looked thoughtful, but in the end said no more than did his colleague.
Finally: “Now look, you two, I’m not kidding! I haven’t figured out who’s doing what to whom and why, yet, but there’s something—possibly several somethings—going on. I make it a practice to avoid getting killed. One of you get out your handcuffs and lock yourself to the other immediately, or—”
“Master!” came a shout over the intercom. “We’ve got trouble—big trouble! I need you on the flight deck!”
Rising quickly, Lando glanced from one cop to the other, smashed a frustrated fist into the palm of his other hand,