“I’ve had it off for most of an hour now,” said Lando. “Didn’t you wonder how anything could burn in an atmosphere that was ninety percent nitrogen and carbon dioxide?”
“It seems I did not have the necessary data to wonder,” said Lobot.
“And I was thinking about other things.”
“Well, the answer is, it can’t,” said Lando. “What I had to find out was whether it was just this room that had been oxygen-enriched.”
“And it apparently wasn’t.”
“No. Something happened while we were sleeping.
Every chamber back to number one now has a breathable atmosphere. Go on, take your helmet off—try it.”
The air was cold, dry, and sweet in Lobot’s lungs.
He looked at Lando in puzzlement. “Why should this be?”
“You said it first—this ship isn’t out to harm’ us. It was expecting visitors.”
“But we took a wrong turn after we entered,” Lobot said thoughtfully, scratching his bald head with vigor.
“We weren’t supposed to be wandering through the weapons system, which has its own specific environmental needs. We were supposed to be going through the museum.”
“Which was in cold storage until we arrived,” said Lando. “It makes perfect sense. Oxygen is highly reactive—a reducing agent. Keeping the oxygen pressure low and the carbon dioxide high protects the ship from fire, the exhibits from corrosion. Imperial Star Destroyers flood key
equipment compartments with an N-CO2 mixture before going into battle.”
“Then what happened to all the carbon dioxide that was in the air?
Scrubbers?”
“The original and best kind,” Lando said. “The ship breathed it in, locked up the carbon, and gave back the oxygen. Lobot, don’t you see?
This ship is alive.”
On Captain Dogot’s orders, the Bloodprice began charging its primary ion cannon battery immediately after exiting hyperspace.
There would be no negotiations, no warning shots, no demands for surrender. Dogot did not intend to allow the captain of the intruding vessel any latitude at all.
Unless a closer look at the target showed it to be a friendly, or a warship of cruiser class or heavier, Dogot intended to use the big guns quickly. The talking could begin after his gunners had disabled the other ship.
“Target acquired,” called the gunnery master.
“Twenty seconds to full charge.”
“Target is confirmed unknown,” called the senior analyst. “Design class is unknown. Estimated displacement class, gamma-plus. Detecting no weapons ports forward.”
“Target real velocity is fifty-two meters per second,” called the navigation master. “Target closing velocity is one thousand, eight hundred sixteen meters per second.”
Captain Dogot studied the image on his command display. It seemed almost too good to believe—a huge, unarmed and unprotected vessel barely crawling through space. “Are there any other Prakith vessels on the board?”
“Showing the light cruiser Gorath and the destroyer Tobay approximately twenty million kilometers astern,” said the navigation master. “They won’t be here for a while.”
“Very well,” Dogot said. “Then we must do what we can ourselves.
Gunnery master, you may fire when ready. Ion batteries only—I want that ship disabled, not destroyed. Troop master, prepare your units for boarding—” Lando and Lobot had both temporarily shed their contact suits to stretch, scratch, and even scrub away their accumulated annoyances, sacrificing some of their precious water to restore a measure of dignity and comfort.
The convenience of the waste management facilities in the suits alone dictated that they would eventually climb back inside them. As a practical matter, they also couldn’t afford to sacrifice
the
maneuvering
and communications systems. But neither man was eager to give up his unexpected freedom. The pieces of both suits floated around the chamber like dismembered corpses while Artoo and Threepio looked on, nonplussed by the display.
tinue searching for the vessel’s control room? I do not see that this has significantly altered our situation—” Artoo suddenly began squawking shrilly.
“I’m talking to them now, Artoo,” said Threepio.
“Just you wait your turn- - What? There’s another ship?
Heading directly toward us? Oh, Artoo—we’re saved. I knew that the colonel would come for us—” “Slow down, Threepio—what’s going on?”
“Artoo says that the sensors on the limpet are detecting another ship on an intercept course.”
Grabbing his helmet as it floated by, Lando shot a worried look toward Lobot. “What ship? Ask him what ship—”