Star Wars - [The Adventures of Lando Calrissian 03] - The StarCave of ThonBoka (by L. Neil Smith)

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THE ADVENTURES OF
LANDO CALRISSIAN
#3
Lando Calrissian
andthe
StarCave of ThonBoka
by
L. Neil Smith
Based on the characters and situations created by
George Lucas
ADelRey Book
.lit by DrB 12/04
BALLANTINE BOOKS,NEW YORK
This one for E Paul Wilson, Healer and friend, and for James P Hogan, who makes seven.
I
LEHESU SWAM THE endlessOpenSea.
He was large for a young adult, although there were Elders of his species twice his size and mass. An
alien observer in a different place and time would have pointed out his resemblance to an enormous
manta ray-broad and streamlined, powerfully winged, and somehow pleasingly sinister. His sleek dorsal
surface was domed high with muscle.
Others would have been reminded of the Portuguese man-o'-war, seeing thetentacular ribbons hanging
from his ventral side, marveling at the perfect glassy transparency of his body with its hints and flashes of
inner color.
Yet, naturally enough, such comparisons would have been misleading. Lehesu had been born among the
people who call themselves the Oswaft. He was, unlike ray or jellyfish, penetratingly intelligent. Unlike
most others of his kind, he was also aggressively curious.
He dwelt in a place the Oswaft called the ThonBoka, which, in, Lehesu's language, brought to mind
visions of a cozy harbor on the margins of astronomy’s ocean. It was a haven of peace and plenty, a
refuge.
There were those among the Oswaft, principally family and friends, who had warned him smugly that he
would regret adventuring beyond the safe retreat of the ThonBoka into the dark perils of theOpenSea.
Few of them actually dared speculate precisely what those perils might consist of, what he might find,
what might find him - except a quick, unpleasant death. For all their intelligence, the Oswaft were not
remarkably imaginative, particularly when it came to the topic of death. They were a long-lived people
and patiently, even fatally, conservative in their outlook.
Others hadn't even cared enough to scold him. Lehesu, himself, was a nuisance and a danger, whose
very presence was somehow inappropriate to the warm sanctum of the ThonBoka, a hint of the darker
ugliness that lurked beyond its confines. To their credit, it would have been completely uncharacteristic of
them to expel him, just as it would never have occurred to any one of them, regardless of personal
opinion, to attempt to stop Lehesu from sacrificing himself to his incomprehensible exploratory itch.
At that moment, he was beginning to wish he had listened to someone. TheOpenSeawas slowly starving
him to death.
He flapped his great manta wings reflexively to achieve calm. It was an awe-inspiring, majestic gesture -
had there been anyone to see it - among his kind, the equivalent of breathing slowly and deliberately.
And for Lehesu, it was every bit as effective: it didn't help in the slightest. If anything, it only reminded
him that he had a plight to worry about.
He was not really frightened. For all their conservatism, fear came slowly to the Oswaft, panic not at all.
It was just that curiosity was not a common characteristic among them, either.
They had their ancient, venerable, time-tested, firmly established, customary, and honored traditions.
Such redundancy was necessary, Lehesu thought, to convey the suffocating stuffiness of it all. Yes, there
were ways of acceptinginnovation, After all, his people weren't savages. It happened gradually, over
several dozen generations. The culture of the Oswaft was far from stagnant. It was simply, excruciatingly,
boring.
Lehesu, on the other fin, was a genius of curiosity - or a totally demented mutation. The conclusion
depended on whom you sought for an opinion, Lehesu or any other individual of his species. In his thirst
to know what unlooked-for wonders lay beyond the cloying safety of the ThonBoka, he was utterly
alone. He could not so much as begin to explain the burning need that drove him into the Open Sea - not
to anyone his own age, certainly not to any of the Elders, no, not even to the younger ones.
Well, perhaps one day he would have young of his own. And if curiosity were something that could be
passed on, they would understand and share his thirst. He chuckled to himself - how he would ever find a
mate who could tolerate him might constitute something of a problem.
Then again, it might not. It was highly unlikely he would survive traversing what amounted to a desert.
Every fiber in his great and graceful body ached with hunger. He had been cruising for what seemed an
eternity without encountering a molecule of nutriment, and it was far too late to go back. He lifted his
enormous wings once more, unable to ignore their rapidly failing strength.
Lehesu had never seen or even heard of a cat, but he would have understood what killed it, how, and
why. Still, he couldn't really bring himself to regret what he had done. Curiosity may have killed him
already, but it was vastly better than dying from boredom.
Perhaps.
Lehesu estimated that he had, at most, only a few hours before he expired. His people fed continually as
they moved about through life, automatically, almost unconsciously. There was little capacity in his
gigantic body for storage of nutrients.
As he weakened, and the effect was increasingly noticeable, increasingly painful to him, he reflected that
at least he was dying in theOpenSea, away from all the - But wait! What was that? There was something
else in the desolation! Far beneath him in the depths, another entity swam, one that pulsed with life and
power. Stretching his sensory abilities to their limit, he could feel that it was comparatively tiny, yet it
virtually sang with strength-which meant there had to be sustenance around somewhere.
He did another uncharacteristic thing then, something no other Oswaft would have done: he dived for
the object. Lehesu was not a predator. Nor was he herbivorous. Such distinctions had no meaning in his
time and place, under those circumstances. It was the habit of the Oswaft to eat whatever they found
edible, leave everything else alone.
They knew of no other intelligent species, and the entirety of creation was their dinner plate. At least he
could discover what the thing had found to eat.
He realized there was a possibility that it would find him, and he had little strength for fighting left, even if
he had been inclined to fighting, which he was not. Yet he had less hope, even, than strength.
Down and down he went. Yes, there it was, a mote less than a tenth his size, yet he could feel that it
was stronger than he was by a substantial margin.Better armored, as well, much like the small
carapace-creatures that swam the calmer currents of the ThonBoka.
They were delicious.
As he approached the thing, he could see that it was not shaped terribly differently fromhimself . To
judge from its direction of travel, it was a bit broader than it was long, more rounded in its major
contours than he was. Like Lehesu, it had two nondescript projections on its frontal surface, although
whether they were sensoryarrays, like his, was another question.
Lehesu's senses were not strictly limited to straight lines. He could “see” that the creature possessed no
manipulators on its underside. He had hundreds. Yet it appeared that part of the surface was capable of
opening; perhaps its tentacles folded into its belly.
He knew of organisms that - Lehesu recoiled in shock! He was near enough now to make out and be
astounded by a major difference between himself and the... the thing. It was completely opaque, like a
corpse!
His people lost their transparency upon dying and, until they decomposed into the dust of which all life is
made, remained visually impenetrable. This creature looked like a dead thing, yet moved with confidence
and fleetness. There were those among his people who...
But Lehesu was not superstitious. With a mental snort, he rejected such foolish notions.Almost
completely.
Another, milder surprise awaited him. Drawing even nearer - any other Oswaft would have known then
and there that Lehesu was quite insane - he felt the thing trying to say something. The ThonBoka was vast
and its people many, but neither so vast nor numerous that separate languages had ever developed.
Within their limits, the Oswaft were far too wide-ranging, too swift. And they could speak over distances
that would only seem incredible to another race.
And so he felt the tingling of communication, for the first time in his life without being able to understand
it. He broadcast a beacon of good wishes himself and waited. His own message was repeated back to
him. He repeated the first greeting the small armored creature had sent him.
Each now knew the other to be an intelligent organism. That was as far as communication could
proceed. The armored creature began counting - that was silly, thought Lehesu; if it were intelligent, of
course he could deduce that it would be able to count. Thinking hard, he spoke a picture-message, one
meant to convey visual reality rather than pure ideas. Lacking any better image, the wave front he
transmitted was that of the small armored object before him.
A rather long pause followed. Deep within Lehesu, he experienced a brief sensation of satisfaction that
he could surprise it. Then he received a picture-message of himself. Fine! Now he could convey the
essence of his disastrous situation to it, and perhaps it would help him. If in no other way, perhaps it
could help pull him into richer currents.
He spoke a picture of himself,then modified it in his imagination until he showed a pitiable scene in which
he was growing increasingly opaque, increasingly withered. Finally, just to do things properly and in full,
he imagined himself dissolving, his molecular constituents wafting away. It made him feel very strange to
imagine such a thing, but it was necessary.
Finally, he started the image over again, but this time hadhimself feeding richly on what drifted in the
currents of the ThonBoka.
He pictured himself growing stronger, healthier, sleeker,more transparent. He pictured himself growing
to become a giant Elder. For some reason this made him feel worse than did the idea of dying, although
whether the feeling came from imagining a feast while he was starving, or imagining himself in the image of
his stuffy forebears, he was not quite certain.
In any case, the creaturehung motionless before him in the void, nor did it reply for a long, long time. As
he waited, Lehesu examined it carefully. Numerous spots glowed on its outer surface, much like the
courting glow pigments of some of the ThonBoka wildlife. One in particular, a large globular spot at the
front end, displayed odd, changing patterns. All the while, the creature pulsed and throbbed with
indecently good health. It had come to a halt when the communications began, and continued to be still
though obviously restless and thrumming to be on its way.
Finally, it sent him a picture-speech. That caught him by surprise, as his mind had wandered - another
dangerous sign of imminent starvation. He had been gazing at the stars, wondering what they were, how
far away they lay, and how he might, if helived, contrive to reach them, as he had reached theOpenSea.
The armored creature asked him, in effect, if these were what he liked to eat. It then began displaying
pictures of every imaginable variety of wonderfully delicious nutriment, from the incidental nutrient haze
that drifted on the currents and was gobbled up by Oswaft as they passed, to the most succulent of
complex culinary creations.
The trouble was,these images were mixed incomprehensibly with things he didn't even remotely
recognize - and with downright garbage.
Excitedly he shouted confirmation when the images were right, withheld comment when they were not.
He and the creature hadn't gotten around to establishing the symbols for “yes” and “no”. He wondered
what the thing had in mind. Would it lead him to this banquet it was promising? Would he have the
strength to follow? Or was it merely mocking him?
He was beginning not to care. There were only minutes left for him, anyway.
Suddenly, the greatest shock of all.The belly of the creature split open and vomited out everything it had
shown him. It filled the currents around them, forming an almost impenetrable fog. Shouting joyously, he
swooped and dived and soared through it all, plowing great clean swaths where he had passed.
The creature stood off, watching, doing, and saying nothing.
One pass took him very near the thing. It was not smooth but was covered with knobs and bulges. Only
portions of the thing showed any signs of transparency, and they simply admitted the sensory probes into
an internal darkness that revealed nothing.
But for once, Lehesu's curiosity was abated. He fed, perhaps more richly than he ever had in his life.
Each pass brought him nearer the creature, but he was not afraid of it; it had saved his life. His senses
passed over a spot that might have told him a great deal more, except that the Oswaft had no written
language, no need for one. It was a plate, a plaque, attached with rivets to the creature's hide. On it were
enameled five words that would have shocked him deeply, for this was not a living creature at all.
The sign read: MILLENNIUM FALCON Lando Calrissian, Capt.
Lehesu the Oswaft, swimmer of the starry void, was content merely to soar and graze about the Falcon,
singing out his gratitude to her every second he did so, with the natural radio waves generated by the
speech centers of his mighty brain.
The formaldehyde was delicious!
II
LANDO CALRISSIAN, GAMBLER, rogue, scoundrel - and humanitarian?
It didn't seem very likely, even to him. But the undeniable truth was that, several months after her initial
encounter with that remarkable space-breathing being, Lehesu of the Oswaft, circumstances found the
Millennium Falcon stolidly boring her way through the interstellar void straight toward the ThonBoka,
which translated roughly into human languages as the StarCave.
Lehesu's people were in trouble: Lando was bringing help.
He was the help, and he was furious. His anger had nothing directly to do with Lehesu, the Oswaft, or
the ThonBoka, but was rather more closely connected with the broken arm he was nursing at the
moment. It was not quite so onerous nor prolonged an ordeal as it might have been in a more primitive
place and time. He wore a complex lightweight brace consisting of a series of electrical coils that
generated a field that would encourage his fracturedhumerus to knit up nicely in two or three days. Yet
the appliance was cumbersome and inconvenient, particularly in free-fall. And Lando had grown
particularly fond of free-fall. It helped him think.
With the deck-plate gravity switched off, he would sit in the middle of a room - equidistant not only
from its walls, but from its floor and ceiling as well - parked comfortably on a cushion of thin air,
cogitating. But the cast got in the way.
Lando also had a black eye and a broken toe. But, considering everything elsethat had happened, those
were minor annoyances . He flicked expensive cigar ash at a vacuum hose he'd arranged to hang
conveniently nearby, and spoke in the direction of an intercom panel set in a table somewhere beneath
him.
“Vuffi Raa, what's our ETA again?”
The instrument returned a voice to him, soft-spoken and polite, fully as mechanical in its origins as the
instrument itself, yet rich with humorous astute inflection.
“Seventy-six hours, Master. That's a new correction: this region is so clean we've gained another four
hours since I made the last estimate. I apologize for my previous inexactitude.”
Inexactitude! Lando thought. The Core-blessed thing talks prettier than I do, and I'm supposed to be
the con artiste around here!
The Millennium Falcon's velocity, many times greater than that of light, was limited only by the density of
the interstellar medium she traversed. Ordinary space is mostly emptiness, yet there are almost always a
few stray molecules of gas, sometimes in surprisingly complex chemical organization, per cubic kilometer.
Any modern starship'smagnetogravitic shielding kept it from burning to an incandescent cinder and
smoothed the way through what amounted to a galaxy-wide cluttering ofhyperthin atmosphere. But the
resistance of the gas was still appreciable through a reduction in the ship's theoretical top speed.
The particular area the Falcon was then passing through seemed to be an exception. Bereft of the usual
molecular drag, the Falcon was outdoing even her own legendary performance.
The captain pondered that,then addressed the intercom again.
“Better back her off a fewmegaknots . I need more time than that before this confounded dingus comes
off my arm. And you’ve still got a dent ortwo yourself that needs ironing out.And Vuffi Raa?”
“Yes, Master?” was the cheerful reply. Lando could hear the clack-clack-clack of keyboard buttons
being punched as per his instructions. The vessel slowed, but that could not be felt through her inertial
dampers.
“Don't call me master!”
That had been very nearly reflexive. He'd long since given up wondering what the robot's motivation
was for the small but chronic disobedience. Actually, Lando was concerned about his little mechanical
friend, and not just because Vuffi Raa was such a terrific pilot droid.Or at least not entirely.
These sporadic violent attacks they'd been suffering lately were getting to be a serious matter where
they had only been minor nuisances before, and knowing why they were happening, to Lando's great
surprise, hadn't helped a bit.
The gambler sneered down at his foot where another, tinier set of coilspulsed healing energies into his
flesh. Somehow, that was the final insult - that and the black eye. It was one thing to attempt to murder
an enemy. That was what a vendetta was all about, after all.But to do him in by millimeters, an abrasion
here, a contusion there?
Fiendish, Lando was forced to admit - if it wasn't simple ineptitude.
Somehow the enemy realized that a man otherwise willing and capable of bare-handedly confronting a
ravening predator his ownsize, sometimes panics at the sound of a stinging insect barnstorming around his
ears.
Well, the gambler toldhimself , that's why we're on this so-called errand of mercy. I'm going to put a
twelve-gee stop to all of this juvenile assassination nonsense, one way or the other, once and for all.
Sure, it was a risky proposition; the stakes were as high as they could be. But above and beyond every
other consideration, Lando Calrissian - he told himself again - was a sport who'd wager anything and
everything on the turn of a single card-chip.
That's how he'd gotten into the mess in the first place.
It seemed that, some time before, a talented but essentiallyprospectless young
conscientious-objector-of-fortune had wonhimself a starship - actually a converted smuggling freighter -
in a game of seventy-eight-card sabacc. A little while later he had, quite unintentionally, acquired a pretty
peculiar robot in much the same fashion. Together, the two machines and their man had set out upon a
series of adventures, some more profitable than others. In the process, they had made a number of
enemies, one of them a self-proclaimed sorcerer who had plotted to RuleThe Galaxy, and had tripped
over Lando on his way to the top.Twice.
The fellow had resented that, blamed Lando for his own humbling and bad luck, and the vendetta had
begun. Until now, it had been an unrequited, entirely one-sided relationship.
All Lando wanted was to be left alone. He'd tried explaining, via various media, that he didn't care who
ran the universe - he'd break whatever rules it suited him to disobey in any case, whoever was in charge -
and that the sorcerer was perfectly welcome to all the power and glory he could grab. Alas, these
blandishments, reasonable as they sounded to the gambler, had fallen upon inoperative auditory organs.
Just to make things really complicated, Vuffi Raa had already had enemies of his own.Although the
robot hadn't known it. His previous master, while spectacularly untalented at games of chance, had been
a highly effective government employee in the spy business. This fellow, ostensibly an itinerant
anthropologist, had used the little robot, forced him to help undermine a previously undiscovered
system-wide civilization in a manner that had resulted in the brutal military extermination of two-thirds of
its citizens. The remaining third, understandably perturbed, had sworn eternal hatred for the droid, and
had enthusiastically begun to do something about it.
Subsequent attempts at negotiation, as in Lando's case, had been nearly lethally futile. Some people just
won't listen.
Well, life is like that, Lando thought as he hovered in what had been designed as the passenger lounge
of the Millennium Falcon. It served as their living room; just then, it was the gambler's private
thinking-parlor, and the thoughts he was thinking were reasonably ironic. He took another puff on his
cigar.
The trouble with two partners having separate sets of mortal enemies is that said enemies don't always
make distinctions.
Particularly when using fragmentation grenades. Poor Vuffi Raa had gotten badly dented by an assassin
in the employ of the sorcerer at their last port of call. The idiot had confessed before expiring; with the
nervousness of a beginner, he'd thrown the pin instead of the grenade. The robot's injuries would work
themselves out after a while.
He had excellent self-repair mechanisms.
In another incident, Lando had been pushed over a rail into a vat of vitamin paste he had considered
acquiring for that very trip, somehow fracturing both arm and toe and picking up a shiner. What really
hurt was that he'd simply ruined his second-bestvelvoid semiformal captain's uniform. He was certain
Vuffi Raa's enemies were responsible. It felt like their style.Clumsy.
Nor was the Millennium Falcon considered immune. In fact, she'd rather taken the brunt of things, with
bombs planted inside her (two of which had actually gone off) and having felt the fury of several small
space battles in recent months. A fighter pilot had deliberately rammed her, crumpling her boarding ramp.
She'd strained her engines getting them in and out of various places in a hurry. Her battery of quad-guns,
under Lando's capable direction, had staved off the occasional pirate vessel,who probably hadn't
anything at all to do with vendettas. Surprised at the ferocity with which her captain had taken it all out on
their hides, defeated pirates were giving the battered old freighter quite a reputation.
Pirates they could handle. The Falcon was a good deal faster than she looked, terrifyingly well armed;
he and the robot were pretty hot pilots, but Vuffi Raa had taught Lando everything he knew in this
regard. Lando told himself again that the business at the StarCave would pay off all other debts, as well.
He was thoroughly fed up, loaded for whatever omnivorous quadruped the fates cared to place in his
path.
Tugging gently at the vacuum ashtray hose, Lando drifted to the ceiling of the lounge, gave a little shove
against the overhead, which propelled him near the floor. He switched on the gravity and walked both
forward and starboard around the Falcon's curving inner corridor, to the cockpit, which was set in a
tube-like construction projecting from the front of the ship.
In the left-hand pilot's seat, an equally weird construction perched, a five-limbed chromium-plated
starfish with a single glowing red eye set atop its pentagonal torso. Its tentacles were at rest just then,
having reduced the Falcon's speed as Lando had requested.
The meter-high entity turned to its master. “I believe you'll be able to make out the nebula now, Master.
See, that blurry spot ahead?”
Lando strained his eyes, then gave up and punched the electronic telescope into activation. Yes, there it
was: the ThonBoka, as its inhabitants called it. It was a sack-shaped cloud of dust and gas, enterable
only from one direction, rich withpreorganic molecules even up to and including amino acids. Inside that
haven, life had evolved without benefit of star or planet, life adapted to living in open empty space. Some
of that life had eventually acquired intelligence and called itself the Oswaft. But at the moment, they were
under siege.
“What about the blockade, can you locate that?” Lando strapped himself into the right-hand seat, ran a
practiced eye over various gauges and screens, relaxed, and plucked a cigar out of the open safe beneath
the main control panel.
“Yes, Master, I'm overlaying those data now.”
Vuffi Raa's tentacles flicked over the panel with a life of their own. He was a Class Two droid, with a
level of intelligence and emotional reaction comparable to those of human beings. He had a good many
other talents, as well. To Lando's occasional disgust, however, the robot was deeply programmed never
to harm organic or mechanical sapience, and was thus an automatic pacifist. There had been times when
that had been inconvenient! On the main viewscreen, showing the sack-like ThonBoka nebula, a hundred
tiny yellow dots sprang to life.
Lando whistled. “That's quite a fleet for bottling up one undefended dust cloud. What do they think this
is, the Clone Wars?”
He leaned forward to light his cigar, but was stopped by the offer of a glowing tentacle tip. Yes, Vuffi
Raa had a lot of useful talents.
“That isn't even half of them, Master. Although I can't understand why, some of the fleet out therehave
modified their defense shielding into camouflage to conceal themselves. I also believe they've mined the
mouth of the nebula.”
Puffing on his cigar, Lando forced calm. “And we're going to run that blockade. Oh, well, it's been a
short life but a brief one. Can you do anything about shield camouflage for us?”
The robot wiped the screen display. “I'm afraid not, Master, it's very sophisticated technology.”
“Which means that everybody in the universe is using it except civilians.Well, then, what's our plan?”
There was a startled pause that might have been filled with a blinking red eye had Vuffi Raa been
capable of such a thing.
“I thought you had the plan, Master.”
Lando sighed resignedly. “I was afraid you'd say that. To tell the truth, I had a plan, but it seems pretty
insubstantial, here and now. I shall repair to my free-fallcogitorium once more and reconsider. I'll get
back to you as soon as possible. Don't hold yourbreath, it may very well be a century or three.”
Heunstrapped himself from his chair, took a final disgusted look through the sectioned canopy, and
removed himself from the control area with his cigar. Around the long, heavily padded corridor, out into
the cluttered lounge, off with the artificial gravity, and back to the geometric center of the room, where he
sat and smoked and tried to think.
It wasn't one of his better days for that.
“Master?”The voice coming over the intercom was agitated. It startled the gambler out of a dream in
which, no matter what sabacc hand he held, His cards kept changing to garbage, while a faceless gray
opponent held a newly invented one, the Final Trump, which was an automatic twenty-three.
“Zzzzzz-what?”
Lando blinked, discovered that he was covered with sweat. Hisvelvoidsemiformals were soaked
through, and he smelled like a bantha someone had ridden half to death. He stretched, trying to remove
kinks from his muscles that shouldn't have been there in zero gee.
“Vuffi Raa, how many times have I told you never to callme- ”
“Master” the robot interrupted, sounding both worried and eager at the same time, “it's been nearly
three hours. Have you come up with a plan?”
“Uh, not exactly,” the gambler replied, shaking his head in an unsuccessful attempt to clear it. “I'm
working on it. I said I'd call you when-”
“Well, I think we'd better talk it over now, if you don't mindYou see, there's a picket cruiser sitting not
more than a hundred kilometers off our starboard bow. I didn't see them, so well camouflaged were they,
and they've fired two warning shots already. Master, they say they'll cut us in half with the next shot
unless we stand by to receive boarders.”
Lando grunted. His mouth tasted like a mynock cave.
“That's the Navy for you, no consideration at all.”
III
摘要：

  THEADVENTURESOFLANDOCALRISSIAN#3LandoCalrissianandtheStarCaveofThonBokabyL.NeilSmith BasedonthecharactersandsituationscreatedbyGeorgeLucasADelReyBook.litbyDrB12/04BALLANTINEBOOKS,NEWYORK  ThisoneforEPaulWilson,Healerandfriend,andforJamesPHogan,whomakesseven.   I LEHESUSWAMTHEendlessOpenSea. Hewasl...

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