[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

"Some thought here that this is engine activity, and the target is
preparing to jump into hyperspace," said Pakkpekatt over the comm.
"Suggest you back away and launch that limpet now. You may not get
another chance."
"There is another possibility," said Lobot. "This could be the next
question for us. If so, it is one we're not prepared to answer."
"General, I strongly suggest you drop the limpet and get your people
out of there," Pakkpekatt said forcefully.
"No!" said Lando. "I want to know what's happening on the rest of the
hull, the part we can't see.
Where do the lights go? Is there a beginning, an end?
Lobot, where are those other video feeds?"
"I am monitoring," said Lobot. "The light streams originate at a point
aft of our position and diverge into
two streams which wind forward along the hull, following the surface
contours. Both streams end at separate points on the far side of the
ship."
"Threepio, can you make anything out of this?
We've got two streams again. Is this another duet?"
"I do not recognize this as any form of language known to me, Master
Lando. But perhaps it is not linguistic, but symbolic
communication."
"What are you talking about?"
"Sir, perhaps they are pointers, not streams."
"Pointers--so which one do we follow?"
"Master Lando, might I suggest that you follow them both, back to the
point of divergence?"
"That's backwards!"
"Sir, the conventions of symbolic communication are not universal. You
have been conditioned by the customs of your culture to extrapolate in
the direction of movement, rather than to look for the source."
"Threepio's right," said Lobot. "You can follow a stream to its origin
or its destination. Perhaps we've taken so long since we first
signaled them that they've decided we missed the portal, or don't know
how to find it."
Lando raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Backwards it is," he said, and reached for the thruster controls.
Watching the stream ing lights flicker by and disappear in the direction
of the bow, Lando could not help feeling they were going the wrong
way.
But when they reached the spot from which the light seemed to appear, a
dark hole irised open there, and the streaming lights vanished.
"They're inviting us inside," said Lobot.
"Well, I'll be the last pup of an ion storm--" Lando breathed in
delighted wonder. "So they are, Lobot. So they are. What kind of
atmosphere did the survey ship record on Qella?"
"Nitrogen seventy-five percent, carbon dioxide thirteen percent, oxygen
nine percent, water vapor one percent, argon one percent, traces
helium, neon--"
"That's enough," Lando said, putting Lady Luck on automatic
station-keeping. "The droids won't mind, but it's a bit thick for my
lungs. It's suits for us, pal.
Let's go get prepped."
The yacht's outer airlock and the opening in the vagabond's hull were
mismatched in both shape and size. The solution was an old invention,
elegant in its simplicity, which Lando had made standard equipment on
all his vessels--an extensible cofferdam. Flexible yet vapor-tight,
the cofferdam could telescope out from the hull of Lady Luck and attach
itself to the other ship, forming an enclosed tunnel between the
airlocks.
Lando locked the helmet of his suit in place with a twist and looked
across the compartment at Lobot.
"Everything all right?" he called, more loudly than necessary. He'd
spent as little time as possible in space-suits and still had the
neophyte's reflex of trying to shout through the faceplate.
"Everything is fine," said Lobot. "I have nominal pressure and
temperature, and there is minimal interference."
"All right, then. Extending the cofferdam."
Lando pressed the switch, engaging a specialized autopilot which not
only controlled the movement of the tunnel of rings, but took over
thruster control for Lady Luck as well. The autopilot reported its
progress in relentless detail, which Lando ignored until just before
contact.
"Beginning cofferdam attach sequence. Attempting magnetic lock," the
autopilot announced.
"Testing. Magnetic lock failed. Attempting negative pressure lock.
Testing. Pressure lock failed. Attempting Chemical Lock One.
Testing. Chemical Lock One failed--" "What's that hull made of?"
Lando demanded.
"We may have to free-fly over there," said Lobot.
"You sound almost hopeful."
"I've learned that it's something many people try on their
vacations."
"--Attempting Chemical Lock Three. Testing.
Chemical Lock Three failed. Attempting Mechanical Lock One.
Testing.
Mechanical Lock One holding."
Mechanical Lock One consisted of thousands of tiny composite barbs
attached to monomolecular threads. The barbs were driven into the hull
like so many anchors, and then the slack was taken up, pulling the
cofferdam's ring seal snug against the surface.
"Any change, Colonel?" asked Lando. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]