[Black Fleet Crisis] - 02(17)

“Not bad, Threepio,” said Lando. “We have two spools—we could set lines in both passages. Lobot?”

“I strongly advise against separating,” Lobot said.

“Valves and stops which open seemingly at random can as easily close.

It is also possible that we have been presented with this choice precisely for this purpose—to divide us.”

Lando frowned. “If we don’t separate, which passage do we take?”

Lobot shook his head. “It will not matter, Lando.

Just choose.”

It did not matter. The passage Lando chose ended three hundred meters later, after turning downward—inward—nearly ninety degrees. When they doubled back, the alternate passage led them to another junction that was the reverse of the first, and to another short passage that turned sharply before ending abruptly.

“There’s something down there,” Lando said, lingering as the others turned back. “Both dead ends go to the same place. The hyperdrive could be down there.”

Lobot could tell that the baron was powerfully tempted to test his theory by blasting a hole in the wall, and touched his shoulder with an outstretched hand.

“Come,” the cyborg said.

“I’m tired of this.”

“I know,” said Lobot. “But you know that disabling a hyperdrive and destabilizing one are two very different matters. We will find a better way.”

Lando glanced at his telltales. “All right,” he said.

“But if we haven’t found it by the time these numbers reach single digits, I’m coming back here. I’m not just going to wait for death, Lobot.”

“I would not expect that of you,” Lobot said. “But for now, please, my friend.”

They jetted back up the passage together, side by side.

With an artfulness born of desperation, Lando and Lobot managed to improvise forty-one line anchors from the equipment grid and the supplies attached to it.

Spaced two hundred meters apart, those anchors secured more than eight kilometers of hand lines, covering three major passages and more than fifteen branches.

In the course of their explorations, the team cataloged eleven stop valves, eighteen switch valves, and three different routes back to their original marker. The purpose of the mechanisms and the pattern of their movements remained impenetrable, but Artoo-Detoo’s holographic map steadily took on more useful form, framing the unknown with the known.

Through it all the vagabond bored on through hyperspace, seemingly oblivious to the passengers within.

The early fears faded. The vessel remained mysterious, giving up few of its secrets, but it was no longer menac ing in its own right. The threat to their lives was as impersonal as the ‘graph of an equation—one in which none of the variables was under their control.

At a point when yet another unexplored passage had disappointed them by leading them to a passage already hung with hand lines, by unspoken mutual consent they lingered there—to rest, and to recover their resolve.

Lando looped the slack of a hand line around one wrist and let it hold him in place. “How long is this jump now?”

“A little over thirty-seven hours,” Lobot said.

“Going a long way to somewhere,” Lando sighed.

“Let’s see, four times three-point-one-four times thirty-nine cubed divided by three—by now we could be anywhere in a quarter of a million cubic light-years of space.

They’ll need a telepath to find us.”

“You and I should sleep,” said Lobot.

“Why?”

“Sleeping will conserve our consumables. And human beings do not perform at peak efficiency when fatigued.”

“We don’t get very much done when we’re dead, either,” Lando said.

“The five hours we spend napping might be five hours we need to get out of this fix.”

“And the five hours we do not spend ‘napping’ may result in one of us making a nonrecoverable error.”

“We have the droids to keep us from making mistakes. They don’t get tired,” Lando said. “Besides—I’m hungry. I’m kinda counting on turning up an after-hours cafe somewhere around here.”

“Lando, that is not a rational expectation.”

Lando chuckled tiredly. “I know when I’m being silly,” he said. “Do you know when you’re being stuffy?”

“Master Lando—” “What is it, Threepio?”

“Is it possible that this vessel could already have exited hyperspace, without our knowing? Perhaps we were distracted by our other activities. We may not have gone as far as you fear.”

“No,” Lando said curtly. “I’ve never heard a ship growl like this one does going in and coming out. We couldn’t have missed it. I couldn’t have, anyway. That’s something I’ve been thinking about. Thinking about how long this ship’s been jumping at shadows, hopping in and out of hyperspace. About how long it’s been since it was in for a structural inspection and an overhaul.