Even if something was going on elsewhere in the ship, there should be
some confirmation here."
"Maybe we're all wrong about this chamber."
"I am more and more convinced by the moment," said Lobot. "I can
barely reach from one grip to the next---even if the Qella are larger
than we are, it seems inconvenient to scatter controls over such a
large area."
"Maybe this is where they hung prisoners, or maidens, or honored
sacrifices, like figureheads on the bow."
"I think that unlikely."
With a grin and the faintest puff of thruster gas, Lando began a slow
rotation, until he was floating upside down in relation to the
others.
"You know, Lobot, they look even more like handholds this
way--hand-holds and footrests. I wonder--" He craned his neck back
until he could see the outer face of the chamber.
"Artoo, how many of the rectangular patterns are there?"
A moment later, Threepio relayed the answer.
"Artoo informs me that there are twenty-seven."
"Are there any extra projections that aren't part of those
twenty-seven?"
Threepio consulted with Artoo, then reported, "There are none, Master
Lando."
"What are you thinking, Lando?" asked Lobot.
Grabbing a projection with his left hand, Lando used that leverage to
turn himself so his back was to the inner face, allowing him to reach
out and grasp the next projection with his right. His legs were twenty
centimeters too short for him to reach the bottom corners of the
rectangle. "I'm thinking 'seating capacity, twenty-seven."
Though Wookiees and Elomin would be more comfortable than I am."
"A theater?" Lobot asked, turning himself around as Lando had.
"Maybe. And maybe the show won't begin until the audience is seated.
Artoo, Threepio--get on over here and find a place to grab on."
Artoo towed Threepio to the inner face and waited until the protocol
droid had grasped a projection with his working hand. Then the little
astromech droid took up position beside his counterpart, using a
grappling claw to seize hold.
Moments afterward, the chamber was plunged into absolute darkness.
"Lights, Artoo," Lobot said quickly.
"No," said Lando. "Wait. It's their show."
Shortly, all four curious spectators could see a brightening glow
opposite them--a glow that seemed much farther away than the outer face
of the chamber.
As the glow continued to increase, it sharpened and separated into
several distinct bright masses. Then, in the span of a few heartbeats,
everything before them snapped into vivid, brilliantly lit focus.
Those same hearts skipped a beat at the sight. Human senses insisted
that they were no longer inside the vagabond. They were suspended in
darkness, looking out upon a beautiful ruddy brown planet painted with
sparkling blue oceans and cloaked in a partial veil of lacy white
clouds. A brilliant but pale yellow star illumi
nated the planet's face, which was sculpted by the wandering lines of black mountains and
dark green stains spreading outward from the rivercourses. Two
moons--the smaller one dusty gray, the larger a startling red--crept
along their invisible orbits.
Lando found himself feeling awe, vertigo, and that peculiar panting
breathlessness that those who have tasted the cold bite of space are
prone to.
"Homeworld," he whispered to himself. "The centerpiece exhibit. As
though they knew they would never see it again."
"Lando, I feel like I'm spacewalking," said Lobot, also in a whisper.
"At least, I think this is what spacewalking would feel like. Is it
real?"
"No. It's not quite right--it's more real than reality," Lando said.
"But you'd have to have been there yourself to know that the
proportions are wrong, that everything's too big and too close
together, that the planet's too bright relative to the star, time is
compressed, and so on. None of which matters. In every way that
matters, it's flawless."
Lobot turned his head toward the droids without taking his eyes off the
panorama. "Artoo, what do your sensors tell you about what's before
us?"
Even Attoo's long answer seemed respectfully muted.
"Artoo says that the outer face of the chamber is still in place," said
Threepio, "but it now has an optical index of absorption below one
hundredth of one percent."
"That's as close to perfect transmissivity as any material I know of,"
Lobot said.
"Do you mean it's not a holo?" Lando asked.
"Master Lando, Artoo says that the star is forty-four meters away. The
planet is seventeen meters away."
"It's an orrery," Lobot said. "An enormous shadow-box orrery of the
Qella system. I'm very curious about the mechanism--" Lando was
nodding his agreement with Lobot's conclusion, then interrupted him.
"That's enough. I don't want to hear any more chatter right now."
"Why? What is wrong?"
"Nothing," Lando said, drawing and releasing a deep breath. "I may
never see another piece of art this beautiful again. I just want to
enjoy it for a while before we go on."
The refrigerated cask being loaded into the cargo box of Drayson's
landspeeder at the Obroan Institute's Newport landing bay had made the
fastest possible journey from Maltha Obex to Coruscant. Even so,
Drayson wore his impatience openly on his face as he watched the
stevedores maneuver the large coffin-shaped object.
"Excuse me?" someone said at Drayson's elbow.
He turned to find a white-haired, sun-bronzed face peering curiously at
him.
"Yes?"
"Are you Harkin Dyson? The cargomaster said that the owner was here
for the pickup."
"Yes," Drayson said, turning away from the loading.
"And you are--" "Joto Eckels," said the stranger. "I was in charge of
the excavation. I just had to see if it was you. I wanted to thank
you myself."
"For what, Dr. Eckels?"
"If you hadn't picked up the contract, our trip to Makha Obex would
have been canceled. We might not have been able to recover Kroddok and
Josala's bodies for years." He gestured over his shoulder at
Meridian's shuttle. "And I want to thank you for agreeing to let me
bring them back with me on this run--that was a great kindness to their
families."
"Anyone would have done the same," Drayson said.
"We might like to think so, sir, but it's not so. I know that's not
why you picked up the contract, but I want you to know how much that
opportunity meant to
all of us who knew the team. And I want to assure you again that none
of this delayed delivery of your material."
Eckels nodded toward the cask, now secured in the cargo box.
"I know it didn't," said Drayson, flashing a reassuring smile. "Thank
you for your good offices, Dr. Eckels. Meridian will return you to
Maltha Obex at your convenience--I've already given Captain Wagg his
instructions. And please relay my thanks to the rest of your team."
"I will," said Eck
els. "And, by the way--based on what I saw before I
left, I expect they'll have quite a bit more material recovered and
cataloged by the time I rejoin them. There are twelve good,
hardworking folks down there, living out of cold camps and logging long
days on the digs. You can expect us to return with more than enough to
allow us to authenticate those possible Qella artifacts."
"Very good," said Drayson, taking a sidestep toward the cargo
speeder.
Eckels moved with 'him. "I was wondering if it might be possible to
get a look at those artifacts, a holo at the very least, before I head
back to Maltha Obex."
"Sorry, I don't think that would be possible," Drayson said, smiling
politely and trying again to turn away.
"I understand the need for discretion. I just want to point out that
it could be very helpful in setting priorities for our remaining time
there," Eckels said. "After all, twenty-five days is hardly enough to
make a beginning on an entire planet. I can remember expeditions where
we spent three months in general survey and site selection before we
moved our first pebble."
"Doctor, I understand--and I won't hold you responsible for the
handicaps I imposed on you," Drayson said. "Above all else, I'm a
realist. I'm quite certain the results will be in line with my
expectations."
Drayson moved toward the cargo speeder's door as though to leave, but
Eckels moved more quickly and blocked his way. "There's something else
I need to speak with you about."
This time Drayson allowed a flash of irritation to cross his face.
"What is it?"
"The, uh, material I brought you--" Eckels lowered his voice. "It's
clear from the way we found the remains, and the artifacts found with
them, that these creatures were sentient."
"Which is as I expected. Did you expect otherwise?"
"Sir, it complicates matters, that's all. If there were survivors, the
material would belong to them, of course," Eckels said. "In the
absence of survivors, though, the rules and protocols of the Office of
Sentient Species apply--material remains must be preserved as found,
artifacts may be reconstructed but not restored, and so forth. I'm
sure that a collector of your stature is familiar with those
requirements--" "Passingly familiar," Drayson said.
"Well, then, this shouldn't be an issue--for my own conscience's sake,
I simply wanted to get your reassurance that the material will be
treated with respect, Eckels said. "There are no known survivors at
present, but that can change. Look at the Fraii Wys, reappearing nine
thousand years after history recorded their supposed extinction. And
the last thing any of us want is a situation where survivors appear and
find that their ancestors are hanging as decorations in the parlor."
"Is it your purpose to insult me, Dr. Eckels? If so, let me advise
you that you're very close to succeeding."
"Please, no, not at all. You must understand, the Institute is very
reluctant to let material remains leave our control, and even when we
do, we always insist on a right of first examination--" "Which you've
had," Drayson said. "I trust that you took advantage of the travel
time to conduct that examination and make whatever holos and scans you
ordinarily would."
"Yes. Yes, we did."
"Very well, then," said Drayson, showing a quick
smile. "If it helps, Doctor, let me reassure you that I'm acutely
aware of the value of the contents of that cask-and I do not refer only
to how much I will have paid for you to retrieve it. It will be
handled with all possible care. After all, a man spends that kind of
money to acquire a treasure, not to squander and destroy one.
And the parlor walls are quite full already."
"Yes, of course," said Eckels, bobbing his head.
"My apologies if I offended you."
"No offense taken," said Drayson. "Now, if you'll excuse me . . .
It was a twenty-minute flight north from Newport to the nearest Alpha
Blue Technical Services Section, located in the same district where
several high-profile senators had their official residences. The
unremarkable buildings housing Section 41 were not on the tour routes,
however. The small signs bearing the generic and easily forgotten
business name INTERMATIC, R.C. accounted for the traffic in and out of
the site's two private hangers.
Even before Draysoh's speeder had stopped moving, Section 41 staffers
were moving toward it with a repulsorlift cargo dolly in tow behind
smart salutes.
"Admiral."
"At ease, Tomas." Drayson moved to the back of the speeder and helped
loosen the tie-downs and guide the dolly under the cask. "Is Dr.
Eicroth ready?"
"Lab five," the colonel said. "She's been standing by for the last
hour."
"Let's go, then."
Dr. Joi Eicroth greeted Drayson with a professional smile that gave no
hint of a relationship that had covered friend, lover, and fellow
survivor over a span of thirteen years. But as soon as the cask was
safely in place beside the large examination plate, Drayson chased the
junior officers away and added a quick kiss to his greeting.
"Scandalous, Admiral. I'm on dutY."
"Yes, you are. Let's get it open," he said.
"First things first," she said, pulling a cord that brought two
full-body isolation suits descending from the ceiling on their
umbilicals. "I have to change into something more comfortable."
It took her the better part of five minutes to don her iso suit, and
then the better part of five more to help him into his and seal the
lab. But it took almost no time at all to switch off the cask's
stabilization system, break the seal, remove the lid, and vacuum away
the inert, space-filling foamite that concealed the contents.
Then they stood at opposite ends of the cask, silently looking down at
a creature that had died more than a century ago and been buried by its
friends on the moving ice of Maltha Obex. Its oval, smooth-skinned
body was nearly as wide as the cask. Its slender, double-jointed limbs
would not have fit inside it if they had not been neatly folded so that
its clumsy-looking three-fingered hands covered its face, and its legs
made a neat square-and-X below its body.
"It's no wonder," Eicroth said shaking her head.
"What?"
She moved to the side of the cask. "These limbs must be five or six
meters long altogether--and with a cross section not more than six
centimeters. A perfectly dreadful adaptation for cold. It's amazing
that this one lived long enough to die where it did."
Drayson nodded. "I want the genetic material extracted and sequenced
immediately. The general dissection can wait until that's done."
"Understood," she said. "Help me move it up on the plate."
CChapter 3
General A'baht."
"Yes?"
"The gig from the Yakez is coming alongside. You asked to be
notified."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Etahn A'baht said with out looking up. "See
that Commodore Carson is escorted to the flag briefing room
immediately."
"Yes, sir."
It was the first of five such vessels expected to rendezvous with the
fleet carrier Intrepid that morning, and
Farley Carson was the first of the task force commanders to be piped
aboard for the command briefing.
The Star Destroyer Yakez was the flagship of the Fourth
Fleet's Task Force Apex, and Carson was A'baht's sole
friend among the arriving flag officers.
By President Organa Solo's order, the Fifth Fleet
had been reinforced by elements drawn from three other
New Republic fleets. With the arrival of Task Force
Gemstone, all the disparate elements had finally gathered in deep space
outside Koornacht Cluster, and the business of forging them into a
single command could begin.
That burden was to have fallen on Han Solo, but the Yevethan ambush