• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Right,” Lando said, cutting him short. “Just get to it. We have no idea how much time we have. Use the secondary comm channel so Lobot and I can still hear each other.”

“Very well, Master Lando,” Threepio said, then seemingly fell silent.

“Lobot, you have access to Artoo’s event log?”

“Yes, Lando.”

“See if you can figure out our new heading from his gyro and accelerometer readings leading up to the jump. Maybe that, plus Artoo’s astrographic database, can tell us something about how much time we have—”

New Republic ferret IX-26 came out of hyperspace close enough to its destination for the planet to fill most of the forward viewscreen.

“Check the coordinates,” Kroddok Stopa ordered, frowning. “Absolute reference.”

“The astrogator says forty-four, one-niner-six, two-one-oh.” The pilot spun the index wheel on the ship’s log with a swipe of his palm. “Yeah, that’s what you gave me.”

“Those numbers came directly from the Third General Survey.” Stopa pointed at the astrogation display. “But if I’m reading your board correctly, it says that this planet is Maltha Obex. That’s a Tobek name.”

The pilot cocked his head toward the astrogator. “Maltha Obex, that’s right.”

Stopa, expedition chief for the Obroan Institute’s mission to Qella, shook his head as he studied the data coming in from IX-26’s sensors. “My stars. What happened here?”

Glancing up at the viewscreen, the pilot said, “Why, what d’ya mean? Looks just like ten thousand other iceballs.”

Josala Krenn, the other half of the Obroan expedition, moved forward from her station. “That’s just it. The Three-GS survey mission reported this as a temperate world. It had a population of seven million and a primary ecosystem rated provisionally at complexity two.”

Shaking his head, the pilot said dryly, “We must have missed the summer season.”

“That was expected,” Stopa said. “When the Three-GS contact mission came here, they found a third of the landmass glaciated.” He left unspoken that the contact team had found the planet dead, the Qella civilization in ruins.

“When the Tobek came, they must have thought this world was theirs for the taking, and gave it a claiming name,” said Josala.

“What difference does the name make? This is where you wanted to be, right? What am I missing?”

“The last Three-GS contact was a hundred and fifty-eight years ago,” Stopa said. “The planet should have begun its recovery by now.”

“I still don’t see the problem.”

“Yes, you do,” Josala said. “The problem’s all we can see. The problem is the ice.”

“Try me again.”

Josala sighed. “Where’d you pick us up?”

“Babali,” the pilot said. “Wait—you don’t have ice drills? Snow shelter? Cold suits?”

“Babali’s a tropical dig. For some reason, ice drills weren’t on the equipment list,” said Josala wryly. “Our rover isn’t even rated for this kind of weather.”

The pilot whistled sympathetically. “Now I see the problem. But why’d they send you, then?”

“We were the best solution to a two-variable equation,” said Josala. “The nearest bioarchaeologist and the fastest available transportation.”

“It is not all bad,” Stopa said thoughtfully. “We were sent here to recover biological samples. The glaciation virtually ensures that good samples still exist to be recovered.”

“Unless what triggered this climatic episode was a dirty war—with incendiaries, or surface-burst weapons,” Josala pointed out.

“Not much atmosphere left, but I can drop a probe to take a sniff,” said the pilot. “We ought to be able to settle that question pretty quickly.”

“No,” said Stopa. “Put us in a mapping orbit. Let’s have a look at the other side. We only need one landing site—a few grams of material. There could be a geothermal field, or some other sort of hot spot—a warm current from a deep vent, perhaps, that kept a portion of some seacoast ice-free. If so, surely the Qella would have fled there before the end.”

“You don’t expect to find anyone alive, do you? Look at the surface temperature readings.”