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“I would prefer not to be that close.”

“There’s no way we can change our own orbit without calling attention to ourselves,” said Taisden. “If she stays where she is—”

Pakkpekatt hissed and shook himself. It went against both habit and nature for him to take the initiative in such a situation. “We may have no choice but to call attention to ourselves in one way or another,” he said, sitting back in his couch. “And if we must do so, it is better done when the vagabond is still a generous distance away.”

“She’ll never be farther away than she is right now.”

Pakkpekatt reached forward and cradled the flight controls lightly in his hands. “Notify the others what we are doing. Then page Calrissian on the frequency he was using for his suit comm at Gmar Askilon. Bounce the page through the satellite.”

“Wait—what happens if the yacht’s slave circuits are activated again?” asked Hammax. “We seem to be assuming they won’t be. Even if the general and his aide are out of it, couldn’t one of the droids send the signal?”

“We will have to trust that they will not do so if it is not safe to do so,” said Pakkpekatt. “Send the page.”

Moments later, they heard Lando Calrissian’s voice, shaky, hoarse and impatient, saying, “Yes, what is it, Threepio? What’s happening now?”

“Sir, I did not—”

“Calrissian!” Pakkpekatt roared. “What are you doing alive?”

“Pakkpekatt!” Calrissian answered in kind. “What are you doing on my ship? And why are you just sitting there?”

“Hey, General—we’re still waiting for our invitation,” said Hammax.

“Hammax? Is that you?”

“They kept telling me you were dead, but I told them they were being overly optimistic.”

“Spoken like a man on the wrong end of a gambling debt,” said Lando. “Tell you what, Colonel—I’ll forgive half of it for a ride back to Imperial City.”

“Better sweeten that offer—I can get clear of the whole thing if we take you back in a box.”

Even though his own outburst had triggered the torrent of animated familiarity, Pakkpekatt made an effort to reclaim and restrain the conversation. “General Calrissian, please advise your status.”

“Status? Let’s see, what don’t you know? The ship’s empty—completely automated, bioengineered. No one else is aboard. We’re all more or less well. Lobot, haven’t you gotten anywhere yet? Are you hearing all of this? What’s your status, Colonel? Where’s the task force?”

“We are the task force now,” said Pakkpekatt. “The rest were recalled to other duty, and you and your party were written off.”

“That’s not funny, Colonel,” said Lando. “The admiral would never do that.”

“Which admiral? Coruscant is overrun with them,” said Hammax. “General Rieekan redlined the mission after you ran off with his date.”

Pakkpekatt rebuked the colonel with a glance. “General Calrissian, we’ve been looking for you ever since your escape. We believe we have a complete Qella genetic sequence, and we have an autoresponder set up. Rather than force the issue, I’d like to wait and see—”

Laughing tiredly, Lando said, “Predictable. Isn’t this where we started, Colonel?”

“—if we can’t get, as Colonel Hammax said, an invitation,” Pakkpekatt continued. “I understand you must be eager to get out. But can you hold out a few more hours so we have a chance to—as someone once suggested I might consider—pick a lock rather than blow one up?”

Lando sighed. “I bow to the indisputable wisdom of your advisor. We can hold out a bit longer.”

Hour after hour, the vagabond searched the surface of Maltha Obex, listening for the sign it had been told to wait for, waiting for the cue that would tell it what to do next.

Five times before, it had come here, obediently following the plan built into its very substance, trying to keep an appointment with those who had shaped it and sent it into the void. Five times it had lingered, searching, waiting, bathing in the rich energies of N’oka Brath, the glowstone. Five times it had gone away again, not aware enough to be disappointed, but knowing that its purpose was unfulfilled.

Never before, though, had it arrived here