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“Given that she’s a hundred times as large as we are, and considerably more than a hundred times as powerful, it seems to me the real question on the table is, what’s her strategy?”

“How close are you going to let her get?”

Pakkpekatt pawed his chest. “That, too, depends on her.”

“The effective radius of the vagabond’s defensive zone at Gmar Askilon was twelve kilometers,” said Taisden. “Given the size of this orbit, we shouldn’t have any trouble keeping a cushion of twelve hundred kilometers, which I hope would be more than sufficient.”

“Shouldn’t we at least try to contact General Calrissian?” asked Hammax.

“I don’t want to spook the vagabond,” said Pakkpekatt. “We got along very well with her at Gmar Askilon so long as we were sitting still and in a passive sensing mode. Let’s stay that way until we have a better idea why she’s here.”

“Sure seems like it’d be nice to know if anyone’s alive,” said Hammax. “If I’m going to have to go inside—”

“There will be time for that,” said Pakkpekatt. “For now, I want silence. Can you reach Penga Rift with a directional comm signal?”

“For another minute or so. She’s about to go over the horizon to nightside.”

“Notify them what we’re doing—instruct them to observe a comm and sensor blackout, and to stand by.” Pakkpekatt studied the tracking display. “Patience will serve us best now.”

“Look, this isn’t that complicated,” Lando said impatiently, squeezing into the tubule beside Lobot. “Tell it we want to leave. Get it to promise not to fry my yacht when it tries to come alongside. That’s all we want—that’s all we’re asking. Then we’ll be gone, and it can go where it wants and do what it wants.”

“If it tries to go anywhere, it might destroy itself,” said Lobot. “I have to make it understand that first.”

“As long as we’re not on it when that happens, what do we care?” Lando demanded. “For all I know, those droids are back there plotting to duplicate the beckon call signal—I wouldn’t put it past either of them to take things into their own hands.”

“Your response to these developments seems to have an alarmingly narrow focus,” said Lobot. “You are indifferent to the fate of this vessel, to the mystery concerning the planet’s moons, to why Lady Luck is even here—”

“That’s right. All I care about right now is getting out of here alive,” said Lando. “And if you’re worrying about anything else, I say you’re the one with the problem. Come on, I can already taste the tranna nougat and doth brandy waiting for me in my suite. Say ‘pardon me’ and then palaver your persuasive head off until you have a docking permit for our lifeboat and exit passes for us.”

“I will see what can be done,” Lobot said with a frown. “But I don’t know why you think anything has changed. The vagabond will not take instructions from me.”

“If you care what happens to this ship, you’d better hope you’re wrong,” Calrissian said. “Because if Lady Luck’s here, the rest of the task force can’t be far away. And if Glorious and Marauder have to break us out, it’s not going to be gentle or pretty.”

“I will try,” said Lobot.

Lando clapped him on the thigh. “That’s the fellow. I’ll be nearby.”

The vagabond made its approach to Maltha Obex at high speed, slowing only at the last to settle into a retrograde high equatorial orbit. Orbiting more slowly than the planet turned, the vagabond would linger on the dayside for nearly thirty hours while the planet seemed to slowly spin backward beneath it.

“What do you think this is about?” Pakkpekatt asked. “Anyone?”

“A very detailed surface scan,” said Taisden. “She’s looking for something.”

“Or she’s sunbathing,” said Hammax. “It’s cold where she’s been,” he added when the others looked at him quizzically. “Dr. Eckels said it’s a biological, didn’t he?”

“Let us be careful not to anthropomorphize,” said Pakkpekatt. “Agent Taisden, it appears that the vessel’s present orbit will bring her very close to us shortly before she crosses the terminator.”

“Sixty kilometers,” said Taisden. “And within sixty kilometers of Penga Rift nineteen hours after that. How comfortable