Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 01_ Before the Storm - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [74]
“The key must be replicable,” Lobot said.
“Exactly,” Lando agreed. “Otherwise the key itself is the weak point. Like having all your riches in a vault, and only one guy who knows where the only key is. Too risky.” He stood and started to pace in the confined space of Lady Luck’s galley. “Come on, come on—we’re getting close to something here, I feel it. What haven’t we looked at? Where’s the missing piece?”
“What about the fact that there are pairs of tones in the transmission?” asked Lobot.
“Good, good,” said Lando, rubbing his hands together. “But are they pairs, or is it two separate channels of information? Do the individual modulations count, or just the pairs? Pairs, long sequences, replicable, securely concealable—what kinds of information fit that description?”
Lobot could no more have explained how he listened to the stream of data that passed through his consciousness in the next few seconds than a blind man could describe fireworks, or a droid could describe giving birth. In the early days of his training, he had imagined himself creating a sieve to place in the torrent, a sieve that would catch only the information he sought.
But that crude metaphor no longer sufficed. Now he immersed himself in the flow and somehow let himself see all of it, not just the pieces of a certain size or shape that fit his preconceptions. Even the flow was under his control—the depth, the speed, the temperature, the colors. But all metaphors ultimately failed. In the end, all he could say was that he sent out his thoughts, and brought back an answer.
“Long, unique nonrandom sequences are found in most genetic codes,” said Lobot. “The code for a single distinctive molecule would suffice to meet your conditions.”
“A genetic code? But it would only have four different pairs.”
“Only if it were human. The number of code pairs varies from one planet’s life-forms to another.”
“How many pairs are there in the fragment?”
“Eighteen.”
“How many species have eighteen different molecular pairs in their genetic code?”
Lobot lowered his eyes for a moment, searching for the answer. “There are six recorded species with eighteen-pair genetic structures. But genetic information is not available for all known species, or for unknown species.”
“Do any of the six have a pitch-based language?”
“One,” Lobot said. “The Qella. I am passing the genetic sample library marker to Artoo-Detoo for analysis.”
Artoo’s dome rotated left and right as the droid aligned its processors for the task. Lights flickered on and off across the function panel. After several seconds the droid responded with a single high-pitched beep.
“What?” demanded Lando. “What is it?”
“Master Lando, I believe the closest translation would be ‘Bonanza.’ ”
Lando’s face broke into a broad grin. “It matches?” He clapped Lobot on the shoulder enthusiastically. “Son of a—You did it, old buddy!”
Artoo burbled electronically.
“What’s he saying?” Lando demanded.
“Artoo says that there is a ninety-nine-point-nine percent certainty that the signal from the ship is a representation of a segment of the genetic code of the Qella,” said Lobot. “But the sequence ends in the middle—it’s not complete.”
“Of course not,” said Lando. “That’s the answer they’re expecting—the rest of the sequence. Is this thing a vocalization, or synthesized? Artoo, can you sing the next fragment?”
Artoo’s coo in response sounded almost sorrowful.
“Master Lando, an R2 unit has only a simple vocabulator,” said Threepio. “But if I may offer my assistance—”
“Offer away.”
“Sir, in order to fulfill my primary function as a protocol droid, I was constructed with the capacity for polyharmony. I believe that I can sing the sequence, with Artoo’s help.”
“Give it a try.”
For several seconds