Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 03_ Tyrant's Test - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [51]
When Lando peered out into the interspace, he saw stars.
Even though the giant transparency was opaque, the best view of the damage was from the auditorium. Looking through a previously unknown portal, Lando could see that the attacker had come close to shearing the bow off the vagabond. The burn patterns were familiar and distinctive—the damage was the result of the pulsed output produced by a capital ship’s batteries.
This is what we heard, Lando thought, keying the suit’s comlink. “Lobot, are you there?”
“Listening.”
“I’m in the auditorium,” Lando said. “There’s a big hole along the starboard side, and everything forward of here is a wreck. The last few pulses punched all the way through her, opening up a smaller hole in the far side. The whole section is sealed—I can’t get any closer to the damage without cutting my own door, which I don’t need or want to do.”
“Is there any indication that the breach is being repaired?”
“It’s hard to tell,” Lando said. “There’s so much hull missing, and I can’t get enough light on the closest edges. I’ll probably have to wait here a while to know.”
“Is there any sign anyone has come aboard?”
“No sign I can see. It’s pretty clear they were going after the weapon nodes,” Lando said. “Which means they must have seen her fight before, most likely at Prakith.”
“Can you see anything of the vessel or vessels that attacked us?”
“Not a hint. From the angle of incidence, I’d say they were well aft of us when this started. Lobot—the orrery is gone.”
“No!” Lobot protested. “Gone or inactive?”
“Gone. Destroyed. The whole shadow-box chamber would have been filled with bolt scatter after the initial burn-through. Everything that wasn’t swept out in the decompression’s been vaporized.”
“Perhaps it will regenerate.”
“From what? There’s nothing out there. No, it looks as if you and I are going to be the last to have seen it.”
“That is dismaying,” said Lobot.
“No telling from where I am, but I’d guess there are a few thousand fewer portraits in the gallery, too. Probably came close to losing this chamber.”
“How long do you plan to stay and observe?”
Lando glanced at his chronometer. “I’ll give it twenty minutes. If I can’t see some activity by then, I’ll start back. How are you doing? Any sign of trouble there? Where are you now—still in two-twenty-eight?”
“I am fine,” said Lobot. “But I do not know how to tell you where I am. I would already be lost if not for Artoo’s holomap.”
“You’ve gone into the inner passages?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I should come back now,” said Lando. “I’ve seen most of what I need to. Did you blaze your route?”
“I would rather you did not,” Lobot said. “The silence is surprisingly agreeable. I am hearing much more clearly now. That is why I did not blaze my route. That is why I am now going to turn off my comlink.”
Lando began an angry protest. “Lobot, what’s going on—”
“You said that I should do what I like. That is what I have decided to do.”
“Fine, but don’t turn off your comlink. What if—”
“I will signal you if I want you,” Lobot said. “Until then, I will wish you good judgment, and you can wish us good luck.”
That was the end of the conversation. Lando was unable to raise Lobot on any comm channel, not even with an emergency signal.
He’s sided with the droids against me, Lando thought, smashing his fist against the face of the chamber in frustration. Which is just more proof that this ship is making all of us nuts. By the time we get out of here—if we ever do—we’re all going to need a mindwipe.
Turning back toward the portal, Lando pressed the facescreen of his helmet against the transparency and peered into the darkness. The contours of the holes appeared to have changed slightly, as though the holes might be beginning to knit. How far it would go, though, he could not tell. Left untreated, the edges of a cavity wound will