THE PARADISE SNARE(12)

“I regret, sir,” the R2 added, “that you are guilty of unauthorized entry, sir. You are not supposed to be here.”

“I know that,” Han said. “I hitched a ride on this ship.”

“I-beg-your-pardon, this unit does not understand the term used, sir.”

Han called the R2 unit an uncomplimentary name. “I-beg-your-pardon, this unit does not understand—” “Shut up!” Han bellowed. The R2 unit was silent.

Han took a very deep breath. “Okay, R2,” he said. “I am a stowaway.

Is that word in your memory banks?”

“Yes it is, sir.”

“Good. I stowed away aboard this ship because I needed a ride to Ylesia.

I’m going to take a job piloting for the Ylesian priests, understand?”

“Yes, sir. However, I must inform you that in my capacity as a watchdroid assigned to safeguard this vessel and its contents, I must seal all the exits when we reach Ylesia, then inform my masters that you are aboard, thus expediting your capture by their security staff.”

“Hey, little pal,” Han said generously, “when we reach Ylesia, you just go right ahead and do that. When the priests see that I fit all their requirements, they won’t give a vrelt’s ass how I arrived there.”

“I-beg-your-pardon, sir, but this unit does not—” “Shut up.”

Han glanced down at his air pak readout, then said, “Okay, R2, I’d like to check on our flight path, speed, and ETA to Ylesia. Please display that information.”

“I regret, sir, that I am not authorized to give you that information.”

Han was coming to a slow boil; he barely restrained himself from kicking the recalcitrant droid with his heavy space boot. “I need to check our flight path, speed, and ETA because I’ve got to compute how my air is holding out, R2,” he explained with exaggerated patience.

“I-beg-your-pardon, sir, but this unit—” “SHUT UP!”

Han was starting to sweat now, and the suit’s refrigeration unit rebbed up a little faster. He struggled to keep his tones calm. “Listen carefully, R2,” he said. “Don’t you have some kind of operating systems program that orders you to attempt to preserve the lives of intelligent beings whenever you can?”

“Yes, sir, that programming is included with all astromech droids. For a droid to deliberately harm or fail to prevent harm to a sentient being, its operating system module must be altered.”

“Good,” Han said. That fit in with what he knew about astromech programming. “Listen to me, R2. If you don’t show me our flight path, speed, and ETA, you may be responsible for my death, from lack of air.

Do you understand me now?”

“Please elaborate, sir.”

Han explained, with exaggerated patience, his situation. When he finished, the droid was silent for a moment, evidently cogitating.

Finally, it whirred once, then said, “I will comply with your request, sir, and will display the information requested on the diagnostic interface screen.”

Han breathed a long sigh of relief. Since the ship was basically a giant robot drone, it had no controls visible on its control boards, just assorted blinking lights. But, in order to service the ship, there was a screen built into the control board. Han stepped carefully around the R2 unit and stared down at the screen.

Information scrolled across it, so rapidly no human could have read it.

Han turned to the R2 unit. “Put that data back up, and this time, leave it there until I can read it! Get it?”

“Yes, sir.” The droid’s artificial voice sounded almost meek.

Han studied the figures and diagram that appeared on the screen for several minutes, feeling his uneasiness grow into real fear. He had nothing to write with, and no way to access the navicomputer, but he had a bad feeling about what he was seeing. Biting his lip, he forced himself to concentrate as he ran the figures in his head, over and over.

Ylesian Dream’s flight path had been set to take it in a circuitous route to the planet, in order to avoid the worst of the pirate-infested areas of Hutt space. And the little freighter’s speed was set far lower than the ship was capable of, slower than even Trader’s Luck normally traveled through hyperspace.

Not good. Not good at all. If their speed and course weren’t altered, Han realized, he’d run out of air about five hours before the Dream set down on Ylesian soil. The ship would land with a corpse aboard …

his.

He turned back to the R2 unit. “Listen, R2, you’ve got to help me. If I don’t alter our course and speed, I won’t have sufficient air to make the trip. I’ll die, and it will be your fault.”