“Emergency, Coruscant One! This is shuttle Moon Dash. We’ve struck unknown space debris,” Trebor yelled into the comm unit. A burst of static from the speaker grille was accompanied by a squeal of feedback and another spray of sparks.
Narek-Ag coughed and tried to wave away the smoke. She flicked a pair of switches. “Aft-thrusters not responding,” she said in a terse voice. “Still scanning the area—there’s nothing. What did we smash into?”
“News ain’t any better from where I sit,” Trebor said. “Can’t get much worse.”
“It can’t, huh? Well, it just did,” Narek said with a hard gulp. “I guess I’d better ask you to marry me after all.”
Trebor caught sight of the readout that had grabbed his captain’s attention. He groaned aloud. An unstoppable chain reaction had begun to build inside their engine chambers like an avalanche of deadly energy. Within seconds, the Moon Dash would explode like a small supernova.
“Always wanted to get married out among the stars,” he said. Tears stung his eyes. Probably from the acrid smoke, he thought. “Never had a better offer.” He placed his hand over hers. “I accept … but I have to say that your timing stinks.”
She squeezed his hand, then looked down at the panels. “Uh-oh! Hyperdrive engines are going crit—”
In space, the Moon Dash erupted in a silent shower of molten metal and flaming gases, fading to black.
Jaina paced the main living area of her family’s quarters in the Imperial Palace like a caged jungle creature she had seen once in the Holographic Zoo for Extinct Animals. She hated inactivity. She wanted to do something.
Jacen and Tenel Ka had gone out again to look for Zekk, taking along See-Threepio and Anakin, while Lowie was off working with his uncle Chewbacca. When Jacen had pointed out that it would be a good idea for someone to stay behind in case Zekk or Peckhum tried to reach them, Jaina had reluctantly agreed to be the one.
She had finally broken down and tried to contact old Peckhum up in the mirror station, though he was due to return home that day. At his station holo panel, Peckhum had answered right away, but as she started to explain that Zekk had disappeared, the old man’s fuzzy image quickly deteriorated. His response was all but drowned out by static. “… can’t understand your … not receivi … transmission … returning tonight …”
The station’s central multitasking unit was getting progressively worse, and communication wouldn’t be possible until she saw Peckhum face-to-face.
By the time her mother came home for midday meal, Jaina was ready to scream from just sitting around. She was eager to talk, but Leia’s face seemed tired and careworn, and Jaina decided it was best not to intrude on her mother’s thoughts. She brought Leia a warm lunch from the processing station and sat down to eat beside her in silence.
A few minutes later Han Solo dashed in and rushed over to his wife. “I came as soon as I got your message. What is it?”
A grateful smile lifted the corners of Leia’s mouth as she looked at her husband. “I need to get your opinion on something,” she said. “Do you have time to sit down and eat with us?”
Han flashed her a roguish grin. “Midday meal with the two most beautiful women in the galaxy? Of course I’ve got time. What happened? Another disaster like the Imperial attack?” He helped himself to a bowl of warm Corellian stew.
“A disaster all right.” Leia took a deep breath. “A shuttle blew up this morning just as it was leaving orbit.”
Jaina looked up in surprise, but her father nodded. “Yeah, I heard about it an hour ago.”
Leia’s brows drew together in a frown of concentration. “No one seems to know what happened. What could have caused something like that?”
“Poor maintenance?” Jaina suggested. “Engine overload?”
Leia looked troubled again. “Coruscant One picked up a transmission just before the Moon Dash exploded. The captain seemed to think they’d run into something.”
Han’s eyebrows shot up. “Still in outer orbit, you mean? Any other ships around that weren’t cleared for takeoff?”
“Noooo …” Leia said slowly.
“A space mine deliberately planted there? Or a piece of debris?”
Jaina’s ears perked up. “We ran into a lot of debris on our way home this time, didn’t we, Dad?”
Leia grimaced. “I was afraid of that. The Commissioner of Trade has taken this personally: He says that all the leftover wreckage in orbit over Coruscant has always been an accident waiting to happen. He insists that we give higher priority to plotting safer space lanes. We’ve mapped out some of the bigger pieces, but I think quite a few chunks escaped our surveys—and we haven’t had time to check it. Some of that wreckage has been up there in orbit for decades.”
Han pursed his lips. “These accidents are pretty rare, Leia. Let’s not overreact.”
“According to the Moon Dash’s transmissions, they never saw what hit them—and it wasn’t on any map. The Commissioner considers this an important safety issue. I have to agree—in the wake of this accident, we need to do something about it.”
“How much work would it be to map the orbits of the larger pieces of wreckage?” Han asked.
“Quite a bit. And time-consuming, too.” Leia pinched the bridge of her nose as if she had suddenly been assailed by another headache. “I’m not even sure the New Republic has resources to commit to a project like that—”
“Maybe I could help,” Jaina interrupted, fixing her interest on an idea that would take her mind off Zekk. “After all, Uncle Luke said we were supposed to choose a study project while we’re away from the academy. Lowie and I could map the debris for you. It sounds like fun.”
Jaina looked from the datapad to the computer screen, then at the holographic simulation. “Okay, this is the next trajectory, Lowie.” She stretched, trying to loosen the knotted muscles in her shoulders, then rubbed her bleary eyes, but her vision did not clear. They had been at the task for hours. She couldn’t imagine why she had ever thought it would be fun.
The lanky Wookiee carefully programmed the orbit she had indicated, and another glowing streak appeared on the holomap. Jaina groaned. “This may be an important job, but I sure thought it would be more interesting.”
Lowie grumbled a reply, and Em Teedee translated. “Master Lowbacca maintains that—
although plotting swarms of orbital debris never should have seemed an interesting project in the first place—schoolwork is rarely interesting. This job, at least, carries a certain amount of urgency.” Lowie growled another comment. “Furthermore, he points out that the project is only approximately twelve percent complete, and he will be most gratified when it is finished.”
Jaina sighed wearily and ran her hands through her straight brown hair. “Well then,” she said, “what are we waiting for?”
13
Peckhum shifted the strap of the travel duffel to his other shoulder as he trudged away from the Lightning Rod’s low-rent docking station, where many smugglers and con artists also parked their ships. It was good to be back in the city, if only because the equipment worked in his apartment, which was more than he could say about the facilities aboard the mirror station.
Despite his heavy pack, the grizzled old man slid through the broad streets and narrow alleyways with unconscious ease, muttering to himself as he went. “‘You’ll just have to make do, Peckhum.’ ‘We’ve got procurement problems, Peckhum.’ ‘New equipment is expensive, Peckhum.’ ‘Central multitasking units don’t grow on starflower vines, Peckhum.’” Scratching at his chin stubble with one hand, he continued to rant, as used to talking to himself as he was to talking to Zekk.