“That copy is for your use,” said Pakkpekatt, “assuming that you will accept one restriction.”
“Any reasonable one,” said Eckels. “This really must be looked at right away.”
“I ask only that the data not leave this vessel in any form, by any channel, until we better understand it. If what you hold there is in fact the key to stopping and controlling the vagabond—”
“I understand. An intact Qella vessel would be a treasure far too valuable to risk. This data will not leave my personal custody,” Eckels vowed. “I will do this work myself, under isolation protocols. Will that be satisfactory?”
“Entirely satisfactory,” said Pakkpekatt. “In the meantime, we will return to our vessel with the relay satellite and continue our preparations.”
“I’ll signal you when I have something,” said Eckels, waggling the datacards. “Can you find your way back to the skiff by yourselves? I want to get started immediately.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. I’ll have First Officer Manazar meet you there with the relay satellite.”
As they waited for Manazar at the skiff, Taisden asked quietly, “When are you going to tell him about the general being onboard?”
“When I know that Calrissian is still onboard,” said Pakkpekatt. “By now even the most prudent rationing, the most severely restricted activity, will have exhausted their personal consumables. I have been wondering if that might be the explanation for the beckon call to Lady Luck—a last act of desperation by the last surviving member of Calrissian’s team, in the last hours of his life.”
The somber mood set by Pakkpekatt’s words stayed with them all the way back to Lady Luck, and cast a long shadow on the work waiting for them there.
Instead of signaling, Dr. Eckels came calling. By the time the skiff came alongside Lady Luck, her entire complement had gathered to learn the reason for the change of plans.
“Colonel,” Eckels said, ducking his head as he stepped through the inner airlock. “Agent Taisden. These other gentlemen I do not know—”
Pakkpekatt supplied perfunctory introductions. “Is something wrong, Doctor?”
“Wrong? No, quite the opposite. I think I have good news for you. Is there somewhere we can work?”
Pleck led them forward to the lounge of Lando’s personal suite.
“You’ll have to go slowly with us, Doctor,” said Hammax as they filed in. “Combat medicine isn’t long on theory, and I don’t think the rest of them have had even that much.”
“I understand. I’ll try to make certain no one needs to be telepathic to keep up,” Eckels said. His voice had the faintest hint of a playful lilt.
“An excellent policy,” Pakkpekatt rumbled. “I follow it myself.”
Taisden cleared his throat. Otherwise, there was silence as the five sorted themselves into the available seats.
“You checked the other cadavers for these Eicroth bodies?” asked Pakkpekatt.
“The first thing I did,” Eckels said. He ran his hands over the soft leather covering of the padded arms, then looked around the cabin, taking in the luxury appointments. “Are all NRI ships outfitted this way?”
“Not generally,” Pakkpekatt said.
“This is a, uh, special-use vessel,” added Pleck.
“What use would that be—bordello?” asked Eckels. “Well, never mind. I’ve long suspected that I took the wrong career path. Yes, Eicroth bodies. They all had them.”
“That confirms it then, right?” asked Taisden. “They’re normal parts of Qella physiology.”
“By itself, it would only be strongly indicative,” said Eckels. “A common parasitic infestation would still be a possibility. But I have other evidence.”
Taisden looked to Pakkpekatt. “So we need to send all three sections of the code.”
“No, no,” said Eckels, waving his hands in front of him. “Sending a third of it should be sufficient. Here, I will explain. In your cells, and mine, and even those of the colonel here, there is a universal pattern—a chemical alphabet with four letters, a vocabulary of words two letters long, a grammar of sentences three words long.”
“Nucleotides, base pairs, and codons,” said Pakkpekatt. “This is elementary biology.”
Eckels’s gaze narrowed as he looked toward the colonel. “Yes,” he said. “Every sentence specifies a component of a biochemical structure. The instructions for building a particular structure may be hundreds or thousands of paragraphs long.”
Pleck sat forward. “So are the Qella part of this pattern as well?”
“Yes—and no,” Eckels said. “Most Qella cells, including reproductive cells, use the same alphabet, vocabulary, and grammar.” He smiled and nodded to himself. “But the Eicroth bodies do not. They use an entirely different alphabet with six letters, and sentences of five words. And they use these extraordinary extended proteins to build structures that seem to exist on the dividing line between living and nonliving.”
“Are you certain?” asked Pakkpekatt. “Why didn’t the people who discovered them know any of this?”
“Because I have something available to me that they didn’t—as do you.” Eckels sat back and laced his fingers together in his lap, clearly enjoying their rapt attention. “They didn’t have any examples of the finished product to compare with those instructions. I have six hundred of them.”
“Six hundred?” Hammax said. “Six hundred bodies?”
“Artifacts,” Pakkpekatt said.
“Yes,” Eckels said, raising an eyebrow. “Six hundred Qella artifacts—no, we will need a new word for them now. We recorded them as being fashioned from natural materials. Now I know that they were not fashioned but—grown. The Eicroth bodies contain their plans.”
“You were able to match your artifacts with the sequences we gave you?”
“Every one of them,” said Eckels. “Do you understand what I am saying, Colonel?”
“Yes,” said Pakkpekatt.
“No,” said Hammax.
Eckels turned toward the soldier. “Every sentient being inherits its species’ memories through both body and mind—the ancient duality,” he said, his tone fervent. “Humans found a way to extend our memories by recording our thoughts and collecting them in libraries. Somewhere a long time ago, the Qella found another way. They carried their libraries within their own bodies.”
“And this helps us how?”
“I’m still missing something, too,” said Taisden. “From what you’ve said, it seems to me that it’s that much more important to send out the entire database.”
Eckels’s disappointment in their response to his revelations was evident on his face. He had proudly brought them a treasure, but they were too uncultured to appreciate its beauty.
“The database has three components,” Eckels said with impatient annoyance. “The somatic cells, the lesser Eicroth bodies, and the greater Eicroth bodies. The match for every Qella artifact we recovered can be found in the lesser bodies. Then there’s your piece of the puzzle—your dialog with the vagabond. You have two interrogatives and one successful reply.”
“They appear in the greater Eicroth bodies,” said Pakkpekatt.
“Yes,” Eckels said, looking hopefully at the Hortek as he would at a student teetering on the verge of insight.
“That is what the greater bodies are,” said Pakkpekatt. “They are the instructions for building a starship from that which is more than inanimate and less than alive. The ship we are chasing was not designed or invented—it was remembered.”
“Yes,” Eckels said, relaxing into his chair and showing a relieved smile. “Yes, Colonel. However you came to it, at least you understand.”
“Do you think that somewhere in those sequences is a code that will call the vagabond back to Qella?” asked Taisden.
“Do you want an expert opinion or a personal one?”
“I’ll take two for the price of one, if I have a choice.”
“The expert declines to o
pine, due to lack of supporting evidence,” Eckels said. “But personally—since it has not gone somewhere else in all this time—I suspect that it was intended to come back here.”
“What are the chances that what we propose to do will just confuse it—like throwing all the switches at once?”
Eckels shook his head. “You are asking for reassurances quite beyond my ability to offer—”
At that moment, shrill alarms began to sound both in the suite and the corridor beyond. Taisden was the first out of the lounge by two steps and the first to the bridge by five.
“Meeting’s over,” he called back to the others as he slipped into the number two seat. “You’d better get back to Penga Rift right away, Doctor. Colonel, mayhaps we should have been talking more about what to do after the quarry puts a leg in our snare.”
“What are you talking about?” Eckels demanded. “Colonel, what’s happening?”
Taisden sent the long-range image to the primary sensor display, then shook his head in amazement as he glanced up at it. “See for yourself,” he said. “The vagabond’s just jumped into the system—and she’s headed this way.”
Chapter Nine
The director of Alpha Blue was nodding off in his chair, his office lit only by the bluish glow of the primary status display. With his shoes off and the top two fasteners of his civilian blouse unbuttoned, he looked like an old bachelor who had fallen asleep in front of the holo.
“Admiral Drayson?”
Drayson’s eyes snapped open and found the face of Major Aama, one of his senior facilitators. “Yes?”
“Admiral, you said you wanted to be notified immediately,” she said. “We have a tracking update on Millennium Falcon.”
“Go.”
“She’s reached the N’zoth system,” Aama said, turning and pointing a controller at the display. “She’s standing off at twelve hundred radii below the plane—the best guess is that they’re scanning the system before jumping in.”
“They’d have to, if they’re going to try a close-intercept jump,” said Drayson, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes. “Is Pride of Yevetha still in-system?”
“Still in-system and still in orbit around N’zoth. It’s getting a bit crowded in that neighborhood, though—four more Imperial types have shown up, and six more T-types have lifted off from the planet.”
“Include that in the update packet and have it sent immediately.”
“It’s already been seen to.”
Drayson rocked back in his chair. “So there are sixteen thumpers there now,” he mused. “Not the best news for Chewbacca’s people. What assets do we have in the area?”
“There are four stasis probes on station, and two more moving into position.”
“Let’s take a look,” Drayson said, gesturing at the display. “We may have to think about sacrificing one or more of them if it’ll give the Falcon a fighting chance to get the job done.”
“Yes, sir—I think we can probably arrange a timely diversion or two. Sir, are you sure you want to continue the blackout where the Princess is concerned? It could give her a real lift to know—”
“Not at these odds,” Drayson said firmly. “Even with what we’ve been able to pass to Chewbacca through Formayj, I don’t think they have more than one chance in twenty of getting in and out in one piece. As for finding Han alive—” He sighed. “But that’s still probably a better chance than any other rescue effort would have. Is Ackbar still talking about a battle group assault supporting a Jedi retrieval team?”
“Yes. They’ve got the lights on late over at Fleet tonight.”
“The general will never agree to it,” said Drayson. “And he’ll be right not to. So let’s be creative, Major, and figure out what else we can do from here to shift the odds.”
Given an unobstructed view and the eight-kilometer length of the Yevethan flagship, the oversized and exceptionally sensitive sensor dish atop the Millennium Falcon had no difficulty picking out Pride of Yevetha from among the many ships orbiting N’zoth.
But fixing the orbit of the flagship with enough precision to jump within a thousand meters of it required more than a single snapshot. Chewbacca needed to know not only the flagship’s orbital track, but also the tracks of any ships near it or en route to it. The task was complicated by the distances involved—when looking at the tracking data, Chewbacca was looking several minutes into the past. He could only guess about the present and the future, and a wrong guess would mean failure—even sudden death.
There was no perfect answer. The closer they were to N’zoth, the more current the tracking data would be, but the more likely it was that the Falcon would be spotted. The longer they waited, the more complete the tracking data would be, but, again, the more likely it was that Falcon would be spotted.
Chewbacca’s natural impatience with anything other than a direct frontal assault only aggravated the matter. He had to keep reminding himself of the lessons of the Shadow Forest, and the difference between stalking and making the kill.
For the first few minutes after reaching the N’zoth system, Chewbacca was alone in the cockpit. Lumpawarrump was in the lower gun turret, Jowdrrl in the upper. Meanwhile, Shoran and Dryanta were checking the equipment that had been mounted in place of the escape pods at Esau’s Ridge.
The starboard pod had been replaced by a mine launcher loaded with sixteen firecracker mines. The portside pod had been replaced by a hull-cutting ring, a traditional tool of both pirates and police. Both devices were critical—if not to the mission, then to their confidence that they could survive it.
When Dryanta was satisfied that the cutting ring was ready, he moved on to the crew quarters and began triple-checking the boarding party’s weapons. Because they expected heavy resistance, bowcasters had given way to Draggis blaster rifles and fusion-cutter grenades.
When Shoran was finished arming the mines, he came forward and joined Chewbacca in the cockpit.
[Everything is ready,] he said.
Chewbacca’s reply was interrupted by a double chirp from the comm board, signifying an incoming message. The encrypted transmission carried a priority flag and a short holo header.
[Formayj,] Chewbacca said. [Curious.]
“Chewbacca, hot-blooded friend,” said the broker cheerfully. “Mining my archives, I found something else maybe you can use. No charge—tell Solo I will get it back from him at sabacc.”
By the time the attached data had been downloaded, Dryanta had replaced Lumpawarrump in the lower gun turret, and the youth joined his father in the cockpit.
[What are you looking at?] he asked eagerly.
[A friend sent something interesting,] Chewbacca said.
[Can I see?]
Chewbacca waved a hand toward the data display and shifted to his left so that Lumpawarrump could lean in between him and Shoran.
What he saw was a Fleet Intelligence assault plan for a Super Star Destroyer—a complete three-dimensional technical drawing of the ship with the location of the cell blocks marked, the best breaching sites highlighted, and the shortest paths between them drawn in.
[We’re sure to find him now, aren’t we?] Lumpawarrump asked excitedly. [How does Formayj do it? Where does he get his information?]
[Exactly my question,] said Shoran. [Chewbacca, this gift worries me. Would you trust Formayj to guard your back?]
[That question does not trouble me,] said Chewbacca. [Formayj can make more money cheating his customers than killing them. Lumpawarrump, call the others down from the turrets—I am ready to make the jump. I want everyone to study this on the way in. Shoran, launch the first string of mines.]
[Yes, Father,] said the youth, hastening away.
[Yes, cousin,] said Shoran, leaning forward to the controls.
Chewbacca did not point out to either of them that, unlike the material Formayj had delivered to him at Esau’s Ridge, the assault plan could not have come from any data mine or broker’s archive—the timestamp on the document was less
than forty hours old.
I wonder who this map was drawn for, Chewbacca thought as he set up the jump. And I wonder what happened to them.
[Mines are away.]
Chewbacca threw the throttles forward, opening up a gap between Falcon and the rocketing mines. When the gap had reached five hundred kilometers, he moved his large, furred hand to the hyperdrive controls.
[Set off the string,] he ordered.
Shoran sent the triggering signal, and as the first of the mines exploded spectacularly behind them, Chewbacca pushed the ship forward into hyperspace, racing the light of the explosion to N’zoth.
By necessity, the plan was simplicity itself: Hit fast and hit hard.
When the Millennium Falcon burst out of hyperspace eleven hundred meters off the starboard bow of Pride of Yevetha, the intense burst of light and radiation from the first of the firecracker mines had just flooded the sensors of the Yevethan defense grid, momentarily blinding the operators and scrambling the analyzers. The mines continued to explode at ten-second intervals, effectively masking the Cronau radiation from both ends of the Falcon’s microjump.
Meanwhile, Chewbacca whipped the transport into a smart half turn, standing it on its tail with the engines at maximum thrust. That maneuver quickly killed off the ship’s velocity, at g-loads that tested the limits of even Wookiee physiology. For the gun crews aboard the Yevethan flagship, it was like looking up into the subatomic fury of a fusion reactor. For seconds afterward, the best-positioned batteries could not see to find their target.
Those were precious seconds to the Falcon. As quickly as the ship slowed, Chewbacca diverted engine power to the combat shields, reserving only enough to wheel the ship over on its back and match orbital velocities with the great Star Destroyer. By the time the first blaster bolts lanced out from the side of Pride of Yevetha and from the two trifoil fighters closing in, the Falcon was inside the shield radius, and Chewbacca had spotted his landing site.
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