Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 03_ Tyrant's Test - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [142]
“You’re lucky there still is an outer hull,” Lando said. “I’ve figured out why the jumps keep getting rockier. Come forward to two-twenty-nine—there’s something I need you to check on. I’ll explain while you’re en route.”
“Coming,” Lobot said. “Please continue.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner. The ship’s power reserves—whatever it’s been drawing on—must be way down. Either it’s been out too long without topping off the tanks—just like you, me, and the droids—or the damage from the last attack affected either the reserves or the generators.”
“The vagabond does not have generators.”
“Whatever,” said Lando. “Take it as a metaphor. The ship manages to store and transform energy somehow, for weapons, and motive power, and light, and all the little gadgets in the chambers.”
“Granted.”
“So whether the tanks are empty or the converters are below minimums, there isn’t enough to go around. That’s why it opened all the portals and left them open. That’s why none of the gadgets have worked since the attack, and why the lights went out on us. We’re in some sort of energy-conservation mode. It’s not just hurting—it’s tired.”
“Yes. The ship and I have talked about that.”
“You might have shared that part with me,” Lando said with a touch of annoyance. “Lobot, the transitions have been getting rougher every time out because the ship’s right at the edge—at least as far as opening a big enough hyperspace portal, and opening it fast enough to minimize the stresses. It’s a matter of being able to focus enough energy in a small enough space in a short enough time. And one of these days, it’s not going to be able to do it—and either the middle of the ship will jump out and leave the rest behind, or the portal will snap back and crush it.”
In the middle of Lando’s exposition, Lobot rejoined him in chamber 229. “That is something I would prefer to witness from a distance.”
“Get in line behind me,” said Lando. “That’s why you have to link up with your friend. We need to know where we are and what’s going to be happening—if its home is that planetary system depicted in the orrery instead of next-to-nowhere deep space, maybe we have a chance.”
“What is it you want me to ask it?”
“I was thinking that maybe it could be persuaded to, say, let us have a viewport—under the general heading of being willing to provide us with information.”
“I can try,” Lobot said, and began stripping off his suit so he could enter the inner passages.
“Do you want me to go in with you?”
“No,” Lobot said. “But come in after me if I have not returned in twenty minutes.”
While he waited, Lando reactivated Artoo and, for the first time since the incident with the beckon call, Threepio.
“Good day, Master Lando,” Threepio said brightly, with no apparent awareness of Lando’s lingering grudge. “My word, but my circuits are clear this morning. I haven’t felt this way since my last defragmentation diagnostic. I hope you are feeling well. Where is Master Lobot? He hasn’t been harmed, has he? I see his contact suit, but I don’t see him anywhere. Artoo, my dear friend and companion—how have you been? Please tell me everything. Master Lando, my system controller is still showing a low-power alarm. Have you located a power coupling yet? This ship has a distinctly droid-hostile design, not to have made them more readily available—”
“Threepio,” Lando said sharply.
The droid’s head swiveled toward him. “Yes, Master Lando?”
“Shut up.”
“Of course, sir.”
Artoo loosed a wheep that might have been an expression of relief. Lando turned to him and asked, “Artoo, will you scan local space for comm traffic? We just might be back somewhere near civilization.”
“Oh, I do hope so, sir—” Threepio began, until Lando silenced him with a glare.
Before long, Lobot emerged from the forward inner portal and rejoined them.
“Any luck?”
“I am not certain,” said Lobot. “It said we should go back to the auditorium. At