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Luke shook his head slowly. “You’re aboard a submarine, Doctor, not a spaceship. We’re five hundred meters under the surface and just floating with the current. They won’t know we’re there until we bump up alongside.”

The scientist received Luke’s reassurances with a dubious expression. “You’ve done this before, I trust?”

“No, never,” Luke said.

“Oh, my—”

“But I saw it done, not too long ago.”

Eckels swallowed. “I trust that you’ve been practicing since then, at least.”

Eyes still closed, Luke smiled. “All the way here. Relax, Doctor. I learned this trick from people who were at the top of their class in the business of hiding.” He paused. “But even so, you might want to let me concentrate.”

Pressing his lips together in a line, Eckels slumped against the back of his seat and stared at the vagabond, which now filled half the sky ahead.

“Lando.”

At the sound of his name, Lando stirred and reached slowly for his comlink.

“What is it, Lobot?”

“Someone is here.”

“Where here?” Lando said, suddenly shaking off his sleepy lassitude.

“Outside, near the bow.” Lobot paused. “We are puzzled. There is a touch, and yet we cannot find the source.”

“They’re knocking on the door,” Lando said impatiently. “Open it up and see what comes in.”

There was a long silence. “The visitors are in the interspace,” Lobot said at last.

“So who or what are they?”

“We do not recognize them.”

“I’ll check it out,” Lando said gruffly. Fatigue and hunger had left him in a state of permanent annoyance. “Artoo, let’s go—power up. Artoo—”

The droid remained inert—like Threepio days before, its power supply was finally exhausted.

“Sure,” he grumbled. “Make me be the one to check out the noise in the dark. It’d serve you both right if I never came back.”

“Ahoy the ship,” a new voice crackled over the comlink. “Anyone home?”

Lando blinked, trying to force his mind to recognize what it was hearing. “Luke? Luke, is that you? What are you doing here?”

“I could leave, if it’s not a good time—”

“You leave without me, and I’ll hunt you down and kill you one cell at a time,” Lando warned, with no trace of humor in his voice. “Stay where you are. I’m coming out.”

“We’re already in,” Luke said. “The vagabond’s hull opened up and swallowed us whole.”

“Nooo—”

“It’s all right. We’re in some sort of zero-g hangar area between the outer and inner hulls—we even seem to be tethered. I’m suiting up to come to you,” said Luke. “Stay put and talk us in.”

Grabbing a liter of water from Dr. Eckels, Lando drained it so fast that his stomach balked and threatened to reject it.

“Luke,” Lando said, flipping the container away. “Can you believe it? This whole monstrosity is nothing but a museum—” He stopped to swallow the bitterness climbing his throat, and started coughing when the taste reached his mouth.

“Go easy, Lando—”

Lando waved off the concern. “A museum! And when—when have you ever known me to go near a museum?” He laughed hoarsely. “And you don’t even know the funny part—none of the treasures is real. It’s all just modeling clay—nothing of any value.”

“Do you know what he’s talking about, Dr. Eckels?”

“Possibly,” Eckels said, digging in the supply pouch for a FirstMeal food pack.

Lando continued to babble, his tone turning sorrowful, almost maudlin. “Can only look—can’t take anything with you. No souvenirs. What a waste of time, Luke—what a miserable waste of time. Like picking flowers. Pretty today, dead tomorrow—” He suddenly noticed the food pack and snatched it away, turning his back on them as though protecting it against poaching.

“Lando, where’s Lobot?”

The answer came after a long draw on the food pack’s straw. “He has new friends.” Lando shrugged. “He hardly talks to me anymore.” He chortled abruptly. “He’s lost his mind. You’ll see.”

“Take us to him,” Luke said firmly. “We need to take care of him, too.”

Somersaulting slowly, Lando waved a hand absently toward the interior. “In there. Left, left, right, right, center, right, center. Something like that.” The food pack expired with