[Dark Nest] - 1(98)
“You don’t want to know.”
By the time Han had a hand on the hyperspace disengage, the sapphire stripe had thickened into a braided grimace of purple and white, and the tips of the blue fangs were flashing clear up to the canopy. He pulled the control lever back to emergency override… and a muffled bang sounded deep in the Falcon’s stern.
“Han!” Leia demanded. “What don’t I want to know?”
“Tell you in a minute.” The entire ship began to buck and shudder, and an eerie chorus of whirs hummed up the access corridor. “Blast!”
Han reengaged the hyperdrive. The ship stopped shuddering and the whirs faded to silence, but the crimson blue ahead reached out and closed around the Falcon.
“Tell me, Han. What don’t I want to know?”
“What is this?” a reedy voice asked from the back of the flight deck. “Have we flown into a nebula?”
Han was vaguely aware of Leia turning toward Juun’s voice - but only vaguely. The blue teeth had become the interior of a white-veined mouth, and most of his mind was busy trying to figure out what to do next.
“You’ve flown into a nebula before?” Leia asked Juun.
“Of course-many times,” Juun assured her. “But usually I disengage the hyperdrive and fly right back out.”
“Not an option.” Han eased the hyperdrive control lever back until he heard the first hint of a whir. It didn’t take much. “We’ll blow that bad coolant line when the shutdown temperature spikes.”
“I thought you fixed that!” Juun complained.
“So did I.” Han glanced up at Juun’s reflection in the canopy. “Someone unfixed it.”
If Juun noticed the fear in Han’s voice, he hid it well. “Well, you can’t just keep going. The gas friction will distort the continuum warp.”
“Distortion won’t kill us,” Han said. The Falcon’s stabilizers would probably keep their warp within safe parameters. “It’s the dust shell I’m worried about.”
“Oh, yes.” Juun’s voice was forlorn. “The dust shell.”
“How long?” Leia asked.
She was too good a copilot to need to ask what would happen when a vessel traveling through hyperspace tried to punch its way through the striated layers of dust and debris that hung inside an expansion nebula.
“That depends on how old the nebula is,” Han said. Two-meter circles of white began to flash ahead of the Falcon as the first dust particles blossomed against her forward shields. “But not long enough.”
“This is a young one,” Juun agreed. “A very young one.”
The whir finally went silent, and Han eased the control lever back until he heard it again. He was only prolonging the inevitable, but sometimes stalling was the only move you had.
“Han.” There was a tremor in Leia’s voice, and she was staring straight out the forward viewport. “Tell me the truth-are we going to die?”
“Can you do that fog-parting trick you used on Borao again?” Han asked. “And extend it to about twelve light-years?”
“I doubt it,” Leia said.
“Then, yeah, we’re probably gonna die.”
“What a pity Tarfang isn’t here!” Juun said.
Han scowled into the canopy reflection. “I thought you liked that mattball.”
“Very much!” Juun exclaimed. “And I’m sorry his name won’t be listed among those who died with Han Solo.”
“Not so fast,” Leia said. The dust particles were blooming fast and furious now, turning hyperspace almost solid white with microscopic novae. “If we’re going to die anyway, there’s nothing left to lose.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Juun said. “But-“
“Watch and learn,” Leia said.
She activated the Falcon’s attitude control system, then - before Han could stop her-spun the ship around so that it was traveling backward through hyperspace.
The white blossoms vanished, and for a moment, the Falcon felt as though she were simply traveling through hyperspace backward.
Then the nebula turned red and started to spiral away from the viewport. Han’s stomach turned somersaults faster than a Jedi acrobat, and the Falcon’s hull began to wail and screech like a rancor in full rut.
“Ke… b… ff!”
Han could not understand Leia above the terrible clamor, but it was easy to guess what she was yelling. He eased the lever back another centimeter. There was no question of listening for the humming coolant line, so he decided to count to thirty and do it again. What did it matter? They were going to die anyway.