The Lost Ones

16

Still deeply worried about Zekk, old Peckhum piloted his battered supply ship, the Lightning Rod, out of its sheltered hangar. The New Republic would have provided him transportation if he’d requested it, but Peckhum liked to take his own ship, though even on its best days it functioned less reliably than the Millennium Falcon. And it had never been made to carry so many passengers.

Lowie crammed himself beside Jaina into the back compartment, his ginger-furred legs stiff and awkward as he maneuvered his lanky Wookiee body into a seat built for someone little more than half his size. Lowie wished he had the T-23 skyhopper his uncle Chewbacca had given him the day he started at the Jedi academy, but the small craft was still on Yavin 4.

Peckhum had cleared tools and cartons of junk from the Lightning Rod’s cockpit—he usually flew the ship alone—so that Chewbacca could ride in the copilot’s seat. Chewbacca brought his own tool kit of battered hydrospanners and diagnostics, gadgets he used while working with Han Solo to keep the Falcon up and running … if just barely.

When the Lightning Rod received clearance from Coruscant Space Traffic Control, Peckhum angled upward through the misty clouds at high acceleration until the glowing atmosphere faded into the night of space. Lowie watched, bending his shoulders to stare out the front viewport as Peckhum maneuvered the ship into a high and stable orbit. The huge solar mirrors remained in position like a lake of silver, spreading a broad blanket of sunlight across the northern and southern regions of the metropolis-covered world.

Although the mirror station was temporarily empty because of the emergency switchover of caretakers, the critical solar mirrors could not be left untended. Peckhum’s name was next on the roster, and he had to report for duty, whether or not Zekk had run away from home.

Peckhum brought the Lightning Rod to dock against the corroded old station, which looked like a tiny speck dangling beneath the kilometers-wide reflector. Chewbacca and Lowie blatted to each other in Wookiee language, expressing their admiration for the huge orbital mirror.

The thin silvery fabric was like an ocean of reflection, only a fraction of a millimeter thick. It would have been torn to shreds had it approached Coruscant’s atmosphere, but in the stillness of space the mirror was thick enough. Space engineers had connected it to the dangling guidance station by dozens of fiber cables, gimbaled to attitude-control rockets that could direct the path of reflected sunlight onto the colder latitudes.

With the Lightning Rod docked, Peckhum opened the access hatch, which still bore markings from the Old Republic, and they all scrambled through into the austere station where they would spend the next few days.

“Well … isn’t this cozy,” Jaina said.

“According to my dictionary programming, I should think cramped is a better word,” Em Teedee observed. “I am fluent in over six forms of communication, you know.”

The metal ceiling was low and dark, strung with insulation-wrapped coolant tubes and wires running to control panels. A single chair sat in the middle of an observation bubble, surrounded by windows that looked down upon the glittering planet below. Old-style computer systems blinked with reluctant readiness, waiting for Peckhum to awaken standby routines and begin the tedious monitoring of the solar path.

Drawn by the spectacular view of space and the planet, Lowbacca went toward the observation dome. He grasped a cold metal pipe that thrust out from the curved wall and bent down to look at the huge ball of Coruscant. High clouds masked the daylight side of the planet, while the darkened hemisphere gleamed with millions upon millions of city lights that sparkled like colorful jewels in the night.

Lowie had seen planets from space before, but somehow it had never struck him how intimate the setting was. Here, high above the world, he felt a part of the universe and apart from it, a piece of the cosmos and an observer at the same time. It was strange to have such a perspective, and it made the galaxy seem both small and immensely large at the same time.

“Don’t just stare, Lowie,” Jaina urged. “We’ve got work to do. Our first priority should be to get those communication systems up and running.”

Chewbacca roared his agreement, clapping a strong hand on his nephews hairy shoulder. Peckhum seemed to be working hard to keep his attention on the routine aboard the station, rather than letting his thoughts wander to Zekk. “I really appreciate what you’re all doing,” he said.

“Happy to help,” Jaina offered as she knelt down to poke around in some control panels. “Lowie, you’re good with computers. Give me a hand here.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Em Teedee said. “Master Lowbacca is exceedingly talented when it comes to electronic systems.” Lowie growled a response, and the miniature translating droid answered, “Of course they already know that. I was simply reminding them.”

“Could you please work on the comm systems first? When I try to transmit, all I can really manage is static,” Peckhum said, hovering behind them as he pointed out problems.

Jaina’s forehead furrowed with concentration. “Sounds like the power transmission is still working, but the voice synthesis encoders aren’t doing their jobs.”

With everyone standing around, the area was far too cramped to let Chewbacca push his way in, so the older Wookiee hung back and waited. Lowie suspected his uncle was amused to watch the two young protégés working so hard. Perhaps it reminded him of the way he and Han had worked together, fixing things again and again.

“Well,” Jaina said, scratching her cheek and leaving a smear of grime from the corroded control panels, “I expect that by the end of today we’ll have these comm systems up and running.” She smiled brightly at Peckhum, and Lowie rumbled his agreement. “Just a stopgap measure, you understand, but they’ll work.”

Peckhum shrugged. “Better than what I’ve got now. I still wish we had that central multitasking unit,” he said dejectedly. “Almost as much as I wish we knew what happened to Zekk.”

“I’m sure he’s all right,” Jaina said, but Lowie knew that she was sure of no such thing.

As Jaina tinkered, Chewbacca went to a different part of the station and roared a suggestion. Lowie readily agreed. Since it was getting toward time for midday meal, it seemed a very good idea to get the mirror station’s food-processing units up and running. Lowie’s appetite was already large, and his mouth watered as he thought of the excellent dishes they could create, even from the meager ration supplies on board.

Em Teedee tsked. “Really, Lowbacca! There you go again—always thinking with your stomach.”

Chewbacca roared an annoyed challenge, and Em Teedee’s voice became thinner, less emphatic. “You Wookiees,” the miniaturized translating droid said in quiet exasperation, “you’re all alike.”