Lost Tribe of the Sith 05 - Star Wars Purgatory Read Online Free PDF Page B

Ashteri’s Cloud should have been forty degrees to port as they exited the Maw. It
should
have been a barely discernible smudge of light, shifted so far into the red that it looked like a tiny flicker of flame. Jaina could not quite grasp how they had gone astray.
    She glanced over at the pilot’s station—a mobile levchair surrounded by brass control panels and drop-down display screens—but found no answers in Lando Calrissian’s furrowed brow. Dressed immaculately in a white shimmersilk tunic and lavender trousers, he wasperched on the edge of his huge nerf-leather seat, with his chin propped on his knuckles and his gaze fixed on the alabaster radiance outside.
    In the three decades Jaina had known Lando, it was one of the rare moments when his life of long-odds gambles and all-or-nothing stakes actually seemed to have taken a toll on his con-artist good looks. It was also a testament to the strain and fear of the past few days—and, perhaps, to the hectic pace. Lando was as impeccably groomed as always, but even he had not found time to touch up the dye that kept his mustache and curly hair their usual deep, rich black.
    After a few moments, Lando finally sighed and leaned back into his chair. “Go ahead, say it.”
    “Say what?” Jaina asked, wondering exactly what Lando expected her to say. After all,
he
was the one who had made the bad jump. “It’s not my fault?”
    A glimmer of irritation shot through Lando’s weary eyes, but then he seemed to realize Jaina was only trying to lighten the mood. He chuckled and flashed her one of his nova-bright grins. “You’re as bad as your old man. Can’t you see this is no time to joke?”
    Jaina cocked a brow. “So you
didn’t
decide to swing past Kessel to say hello to the wife and son?”
    “Good idea,” Lando said, shaking his head. “But …
no
.”
    “Well, then …” Jaina activated the auxiliary pilot’s station and waited as the long-range sensors spooled up. An old asteroid tug designed to be controlled by a single operator and a huge robotic crew, the
Rockhound
had no true copilot’s station, and
that
meant the wait was going to be longer than Jaina would have liked. “What are we doing here?”
    Lando’s expression grew serious. “Good question.” He turned toward the back of the
Rockhound
’s spacious flight deck, where the vessel’s ancient bridge-droidstood in front of an equally ancient navigation computer. A Cybot Galactica model RN8, the droid had a transparent head globe, currently filled with the floating twinkles of a central processing unit running at high speed. Also inside the globe were three sapphire-blue photoreceptors, spaced at even intervals to give her full-perimeter vision. Her bronze body-casing was etched with constellations, comets, and other celestial artwork worthy of her nickname. “I
know
I told Ornate to set a course for Coruscant.”
    RN8’s head globe spun just enough to fix one of her photoreceptors on Lando’s face. “Yes, you did.” Her voice was silky, deep, and chiding. “And then you countermanded that order with one directing us to our current destination.”
    Lando scowled. “You need to do a better job maintaining your auditory systems,” he said. “You’re hearing things.”
    The twinkles inside RN8’s head globe dimmed as she redirected power to her diagnostic systems. Jaina turned her own attention back to the auxiliary display and saw that the long-range sensors had finally come on line. Unfortunately, they were no help. The only thing that had changed inside its bronze frame was the color of the screen and a single symbol denoting the
Rockhound
’s own location in the exact center.
    RN8’s silky voice sounded from the back of the flight deck. “My auditory sensors are in optimal condition, Captain—as are my data storage and retrieval systems.” Her words began to roll across the deck in a very familiar male baritone. “Redi
rect
to
dest
ina
tion
Ashteri’s Cloud, arri
val
time