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“That’s good, Artoo—hold right there.”

“Be careful not to cut too deeply,” Lobot said. “There may be mechanisms behind the wall—”

“If Artoo’s right, there’s nothing behind this part of the wall. The sonogram showed a thin bulkhead and another compartment beyond, five meters in diameter.”

“I know. But a ship this size could have waste ports five meters in diameter. Or fuel conduits.”

“You know, Lobot, when you’re cut off from your databases, you’re almost as much of an old lady as Threepio here,” Lando said, but not without affection. “Threepio, any change?”

“No, Master Lando. There has been no response to my first nine hundred sixty-one thousand, eight—”

“Save it for the log,” Lando said. “Lobot, Threepio, I know how much you want to watch over my shoulder while I do this. But if I were you, I’d move around to where my contact suit is between you and the blaster. That way, if I make a mistake, you might still be around to learn from it.”

“If Artoo would give me a link to his video processor—” Lobot said.

“Do it, Artoo.” Lando held the cutting blaster up before his face with his right hand, and with his left set the selector for hairline and depth for shallow. “Maybe we’ll finally get a response to this message,” he said, and activated the cutter.

Under Lando’s steady hand, the blue-white energy blade drew a straight line down the face of the bulkhead. But when Lando pulled the blaster away to inspect his work, he found that the blaster had left no mark—the bulkhead was intact.

“Guess I was a little too careful,” Lando said, frowning. “Move the sled in just a little for me, Lobot.”

When he-had finished adjusting his position, Lando reached forward and drew the blaster blade slowly down the face of the bulkhead once more.

“What the—”

“What is happening?” Threepio asked worriedly. He rose from behind Lando to peer over his shoulder at the wall.

“A lot of nothing,” said Lando in disgust. “I can’t even scorch it.”

“I think you are mistaken, Lando,” said Lobot. “Please try again, and this time move the cutter more quickly.”

Lando slashed the cutter downward across the face of the bulkhead. The brilliant glare of the blade left a thin black line in its wake—a clean, straight cut that closed up and vanished a fraction of a second later.

“Self-sealing bulkheads?”

“It would appear so,” said Lobot.

“Well, that’s just dandy,” Lando said, shutting off the cutting blaster. “I can’t cut us a door, because it hasn’t the manners to stay cut.”

Lobot tapped Lando on the helmet, then gestured at the blaster. “May I try something?”

“Be my guest.” Lando surrendered the blaster and moved aside, pulling himself hand over hand toward the aft end of the equipment sled.

Lobot studied the selectors on the blaster for a few moments, then opted for the medium drill setting. The blade appeared this time as a pointed cone, which Lobot pressed against the wall until half its length had disappeared. When he withdrew it, there was a hole a few centimeters across in the bulkhead.

The hole began to close at once, but it took noticeably longer to vanish than the cut had—long enough for Lobot to pull himself down to eye level and catch a quick glimpse through the breach.

“Very clever, Lobot. Very interesting. Between one and two seconds, I think,” Lando said.

“I was hoping for this result,” said Lobot, turning toward Lando. “Whatever mechanisms are involved, substantially more material must be transported or replaced to fill a hole than to seal a cut.”

“Did you see anything?”

“Nothing useful. An open space of some kind, dimly lit. Everything had a yellowish cast.”

“Let’s try a bigger hole,” Lando said. “Artoo, do you have some sort of remote sensor you can stick through this time?”

“The limpet,” Lobot suggested. “We could reach through and attach the limpet on the other side of the bulkhead. Both Artoo and I are capable of receiving its sensor data.”

“I don’t want to make quite that big a hole,” Lando said. “Not this time. Every time we cut into that bulkhead, we’re reminding