Клаудия Грэй - Into the Dark

“Here’s the situation,” Leox said. “We would of course never want our Jedi to think that they might be aboard a ship carrying some cargo that is not, in the strictest sense, legal in the Republic.”

“Never,” Affie said, straight-faced. “That would never happen. The Jedi don’t know anything that would make them think that.”

Leox nodded. “We’d be prudent to keep it that way. Which is why no matter who’s out there, or what they want, or what they might pay, we continue to present ourselves as an absolutely open ship, a hauler turned passenger transport just for the one ride.”

Affie added, “No matter who comes on board, or where they want to search, certain compartments should continue not to exist.”

“So very true.” Leox pulled back. “Remember, everybody, our perceptions define the reality of the universe. Nothing is even a thing until our thinking makes it so.”

“Not thinking about those compartments,” Affie said. “The ones that aren’t there.”

“Scover’s gonna be so proud of you.” Leox smiled at her. Affie could’ve hugged him—not for the praise but for his casual assumption that her mother was still alive.

There was, of course, no “head monk” among the Jedi party. However, Cohmac Vitus had the most field experience of the group, and he could tell that Orla was shaken. They would need to talk about it soon—the parallels between this mission and the first they ever undertook together—but there would be time for that later. The distress call demanded his attention. So he went with Reath back to the bridge to help sort through the various signals. “Why not in the comm center?” Cohmac said, instead of hello. Leox Gyasi did not seem the sort to stand on ceremony.

“First, because we’re not talking back just yet,” Leox replied. “So we only need to isolate and analyze the signals right now. Second, because we can get a much better bead on each signal’s origin from up here.”

“Logical,” Cohmac said approvingly. How rare to find a freelance pilot who operated on a rational basis—even if he looked and talked like this one. How steadying to have a problem that demanded concrete solutions, one that required him to search beyond their ship for answers instead of looking within. “How many are we picking up in the immediate sector?”

“Looks like—eleven,” Affie said, gesturing to various red blinking dots on a green grid. “Of those, six are standard cargo haulers, not that different from us, except none is Guild-registered. Another two are standard passenger haulers, ranging in size from five-person skiffs to”—she whistled—“to at least one with two hundred sentients aboard.”

Many people needed help, then. Possibly soon. Cohmac felt reenergized with purpose. Already he’d been itching to do something, anything, of use; it appeared that he would be called upon even sooner than he’d hoped. The Jedi’s mission at the frontier would begin with both mercy and strength. First, however—“What about the others?”

“What about that one?” Reath asked, pointing over Affie’s shoulder. “The bigger one? Some of those readings—those are high radiation levels, right?”

Leox nodded, but his lack of concern was so complete that it nearly operated as a tranquilizer. “Looks like Mizi to me. They’re not as susceptible to radiation as most sentient species, so they haul cargo a lot of other ships can’t. And that one there”—he pointed to the next-to-last dot on the screen—“that looks Orincan, which is bad news. Their lack of outer beauty is perfectly matched by their lack of inner beauty. I hate to be disparaging of an entire species, but if there are any Orincans overflowing with wit, charm, and kindness, I’ve yet to make their acquaintance.”

Cohmac asked, “What about the final ship?”

“That’s the one that bothers me.” Leox zoomed in until the specs for that particular ship—the farthest out—became clear. “Smallest of the lot. The one that sent the original signal we intercepted. But I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

Cohmac could see the difficulty. “The engines of a racer—the plating of a transport—sensor strength almost akin to a research vessel—and yet some of the components are weak.”

“Old, to judge by the readings,” Affie said. “So they’ve souped up some of their systems but ignored the others until they’re almost falling apart. Which is weird, right?”

“Yes. But hardly unique.” Cohmac considered the possibilities. No armaments showed up on scans. Armaments could be shielded with certain plating. However, the engines didn’t seem powerful enough to support that kind of shielding. He weighed the possibilities and decided. “Let’s contact them directly.”

“But if they’re pirates—” Affie began, then stopped when Leox shook his head.

“You saw their scanners,” he said. “They know we’re here. They know what we’re about. If they want to attack, they’re gonna. So far they haven’t. It’s worth a shot. You want to make the call, Pawaman?”

It took Reath a moment to make the connection. Cohmac concealed his amusement. “Oh, uh, it’s Padawan, actually. But I can make the call.” He stepped closer to the comms and flipped the toggle. “This is the vessel—ah, Vessel . What’s your designation? Can you transmit a visual signal? Over.”

The screen fuzzed, then clarified into the image of a young girl—younger, even, than Reath Silas and Affie Hollow, though Cohmac thought only by a year or so. Her shining dark hair was pulled back into a neat tail, and her rounded cheeks blushed as she smiled. “ Oh, thank goodness! We were so scared you might be pirates. But you don’t look like pirates. Wait. Are you pirates? ”

Reath was smiling, too, as were most of the other people on the bridge. “Not pirates. Travelers bound for Starlight Beacon, and now stranded here.”

“ At least we’re not the only ones ,” said the young girl. “ I’m called Nan. It’s just me and my guardian out here, and we don’t have much. ”

Cohmac interjected, “Some of us, including Reath here and myself, are Jedi, sworn to protect and defend the peoples of the Republic.” All peoples, really, but he wanted them to understand the good that the Republic could bring to their lives. “We’ll contact all the ships in short order, work on organizing together. Sharing resources will be the best way to survive this crisis.” Nan beamed. Perhaps the Jedi had made their first friend in the sector. “Hold on. We’ll be back in touch shortly.” She nodded as the visual signal faded out.

No pirate attack was imminent. However, a vague feeling tugged at Cohmac—a barely conscious sense that something important remained undiscovered. “Captain Gyasi,” he said, “can you expand your scanner perimeters?”

Leox nodded. “Just so long as you know when we gain reach, we lose clarity. As with so much in life.”

“An acceptable trade.” Cohmac leaned closer to analyze any scraps of information they might receive.

Instead of scraps, the screen suddenly filled with data. Leox’s eyes widened as he scrolled in closer. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the heck have we got here?”

“A space station?” Reath said, making the leap faster than Cohmac would’ve guessed. “But—it’s nowhere near the system’s star, and the energy levels are low—”

“Doesn’t look like anybody’s aboard,” Affie said while bent over her own readings. “Though at this distance we can’t tell for sure.”

“We’ve heard nothing from the station, despite the unexpected arrival of eleven ships in this system,” Cohmac said. “Energy readouts are fairly low. The likeliest conclusion is that the station’s abandoned.”