Victory's Price (Star Wars) (Star Wars: Alphabet Squadron) by Alexander Freed

Author:Alexander Freed [Freed, Alexander]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Random House Worlds
Published: 2021-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

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The damage to the hyperdrive was largely superficial, consisting of fused cabling leading to the reactor (which Quell replaced without trouble) along with lesser damage to the motivator (which Quell couldn’t fix but which would survive at least one jump).

The bigger trouble was the navicomputer. There was physical damage to both core and backup core significant enough for Quell to see without a magnifier—she could smell the damage when she crawled underneath the main console. The ship would fly but the entire nav system had been corrupted. She could’ve taken apart and reassembled the whole transport with enough time and tools, but data recovery was an entirely different discipline and not one the Imperial Academy had trained her for.

“Basically,” she told Chadic and Kairos as she closed the toolbox in the main cabin and wiped her hands on an already filthy rag, “we’re in a mess. Hyperdrive is online, so we can hit lightspeed. But we can’t calculate our destination so all we can do is pick a direction, jump, and hope we don’t smash into a star.”

Chadic grunted. “So, what? We go back to Netalych, tell the droids we’re sorry for the damage and hope to get some replacement parts?”

“I don’t know,” Quell said. “I don’t know. I don’t get a vote. But I can tell you those droids—” She thought about the Surgeon and Kandende and tried not to show her discomfort. “—I don’t like them and I don’t trust them.”

“Yeah, well—” Chadic swung drunkenly around the crew seats. “—I don’t know what other options we have. Maybe we can trade them something. Or we float here until they finally kill us. Or we wait for someone to help and hope our oxygen doesn’t run out.”

Chadic made no move toward the cockpit. It was a relief, in a way; Quell smelled the methane of the Netalych outpost, felt the ice prick her flesh. Running out of oxygen seemed preferable.

Kairos had turned back toward the viewport, staring at the stars again. “I know,” she said.

“Know what?” Chadic asked.

Kairos raised an arm and pointed into space—toward a star, or the dark between the stars, or nothing at all.

Chadic furrowed her brow at Kairos, then glanced to Quell. Quell parted her lips to speak but Kairos was leaving the cabin, sliding into the pilot’s seat and bringing her hands to the controls.

“Know what?” Chadic asked again, following Kairos into the cockpit.

Kairos didn’t answer. The ship shifted beneath them, maneuvering thrusters pushing them to face whatever it had been Kairos had pointed to. Whatever she stared at now as she pressed buttons and flipped toggles.

“Know what?” Chadic asked more frantically, and now Quell was up, too, racing to the cockpit and grasping the doorframe for support as the U-wing lurched forward. She heard Chadic say something else but didn’t catch the particulars; her eyes were fixed on Kairos as the woman’s hand found the hyperdrive accelerator and eased back the lever.

The stars distorted and stretched. Quell felt weightless as she heard Chadic cursing over and over.

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