“Interesting,” Senator Miatamia murmured, his leathery Diamalan face unreadable as he studied his own cards. “I presume the reference to crying is not a literal part of the game as you play it. A Pure Sabacc run, you say?”
“Yes,” Lando confirmed, an uncomfortable sensation tickling at the back of his neck. The Senator had made this same dramatic pause on the sabacc pot hand in exactly five out of the eight complete games they’d played since the Lady Luck’s hurried scramble off Cilpar. Five games that the Senator had also happened to win.
“Unfortunate,” Miatamia said, laying his cards almost daintily on the table. “I have an Idiot’s Array. I believe that wins?”
“Yes, it wins,” Lando said, shaking his head in disgust. Make that six out of nine. “I can’t believe you haven’t played this game professionally,” he grumbled, starting to gather up the cards.
The Diamal flicked his fingers in the air. “You don’t truly believe the Diamala have created our vast financial and business empire from mere common sense and hard work, do you?”
Lando paused, half the cards still on the table, eyeing the Senator suspiciously. Was he actually implying-?
No, of course not. Ridiculous. “That was a joke. Right?”
“Of course,” Miatamia said, flicking his fingers again. “Common sense and hard work are all any being or species require to succeed. Luck is merely an illusion, trusted by the ignorant and chased by the foolish.”
With an effort, Lando fought down a flicker of annoyance. His professional gambling days were long in the distant past, but the Diamal’s obvious contempt still rankled a little. “So in other words, if you’re smart enough, nothing ever happens you can’t anticipate?”
“Of course the unanticipated may happen,” Miatamia said. “But those who are prepared can always find their way through.”
“All by themselves?” Lando persisted. “They never need any help?”
“They may,” the Diamal said, unruffled. “But anticipating the need for assistance is merely one more part of common sense.”
“Ah,” Lando said, nodding. “So, in other words, the fact that I recognize my need for extra security for my ore shipments means that I have good common sense.”
“It may,” Miatamia agreed. “It could also mean-“
And suddenly, with a loud crack of released energy coming from the direction of the Lady Luck’s hyperdrive, the mottled sky above them abruptly flowed into starlines.
Lando was at the top of the circular staircase by the time the starlines finished shrinking back into stars. “What is it?” Miatamia demanded from behind him.
“Hyperdrive failure,” Lando shouted over his shoulder as he all but threw himself down the stairs. If one of the couplings had failed, he needed to get the power rerouted before it started into surge instability and took out everything else on the circuit. With visions of a major repair job out here in the middle of nowhere looming before him-a repair job that would not exactly endear him to his Diamalan guest-he sprinted across the dining area, past the cabins, and skidded to a halt in front of the eng ineering control panel.
And frowned. There were none of the glowing red lights that would have indicated major systems failures, or even the blinking red status lines pointing to minor systems failure. In fact, according to the displays, the hyperspace drop-out was simply the normal automatic response of close planetary approach. There was a duly logged note that course comparison with the nay computer indicated that no planets should be in range at the moment …
“Oh, no,” Lando breathed, leaping up the short stairway and jabbing at the bridge door release. The door slid open, and he stepped through.
And there it was, floating silently in the darkness directly in front of him: the all-too-familiar shape of an Imperial Star Destroyer.
Biting back a curse, he dived for the helm, slapping the row of emergency power-boost switches on his way. He dropped into the chair, threw full power to the drive, and twisted the yacht’s nose hard to starboard.
Or rather tried to twist it. Even with full emergency power, the Lady Luck wasn’t moving.
Or rather she wasn’t moving where Lando wanted her to go.
“We are in a tractor beam,” the Senator’s cool voice said from behind him.
“I noticed,” Lando said shortly, shifting into a sharp up-down wiggling motion. If the tractor beam operator thought his target was trying to go vertical, be might overcorrect and allow the yacht to slip the lock.
But no such luck. “Strap down,” Lando ordered Miatamia, letting the tractor damp out the yacht’s residual wiggling and taking a quick look around. The Imperials had to have an Interdictor Cruiser around here somewhere … yes, there it was, off in the distance to portside, its nose pointed in the Lady Luck’s direction.