It was a vast, shining globe and it cast a light of lambent topaz into space—but it was not a sun. Thus, the planet had fooled men for a long time. Not until entering close orbit around it did its discoverers realize that this was a world in a binary system and not a third sun itself.
At first it seemed certain nothing could exist on such a planet, least of all humans.
Yet both massive G1 and G2 stars orbited a common center with peculiar to permit the development of a rather stable, if exquisitely hot, climate. Mostly this was a dry desert of a world, whose unusual star-like yellow glow was the result of double sunlight striking sodium-rich sands and flats. That same sunlight suddenly shone on the thin skin of a metallic shape falling crazily toward the atmosphere.
The erratic course the galactic cruiser was traveling was intentional, not the product of injury but of a desperate desire to avoid it. Long streaks of intense energy slid close past its hull, a multihued storm of destruction like a school of rainbow remoras fighting to attach themselves to a larger, unwilling host.
One of those probing, questing beams succeeded in touching the fleeing ship, striking its principal solar fin. Gemlike fragments of mental and plastic erupted into space as the end of the fin disintegrated. The vessel seemed to shudder.
The source of those multiple energy beams suddenly hove into view—a lumbering Imperial cruise, its massive outline bristling cactuslike with dozens of heavy weapons emplacements. Light ceased arching from those spines now as the cruiser moved in close. Intermittent explosions and flashes of light could be seen in those portion of the smaller ship which had taken hits. In the absolute cold of space the cruiser snuggled up alongside its wounded prey.
Another distant explosions shook the ship—but it certainly didn’t feel distant to Artoo Detoo or See Threepio. The concussion bounced them around the narrow corridor like bearings in an old motor.
To look at these two, one would have supposed that the tall, human-like machine, Threepio was the master and the stubby, tripodal robot, Artoo Detoo, an inferior.
But while Threepio might have sniffed disdainfully at the suggestion, they were in fact equal in everything save loquacity. Here Threepio was clearly –and necessarily –the superior.
Still another explosion rattled the corridor, throwing Threepio off balance. His shorter companion had the better of it during such moments with his squat, cylindrical body’s low center of gravity well balanced on thick, clawed legs.
Artoo glanced up at Threepio, who was steadying himself against a corridor wall. Lights blinked enigmatically around a single mechanical eye as the smaller robot studied the battered casing of his friend. A patina of metal and fibrous dust coated the usually gleaming bronze finish, and there were some visible dents –all the result of the pounding the rebel ship they were on had been taking.
Accompanying the last attack was a persistent deep hum, which even the loudest explosion had not been able to drown out. Then for no apparent reason, the basso thrumming abruptly ceased, and the only sounds in the otherwise deserted corridor came from the eerie dry-twig crackle of shorting relays or the pops of dying circuitry.
Explosions began to echo through the ship once more, but they were far away from the corridor.
Threepio turned his smooth, humanlike head to one side. Metallic ears listened intently. The imitation of a human pose was hardly necessary—Threepio’s auditory sensors were fully omnidirectional—but the slim robot had been programmed to blend perfectly among human company. This programming extended even to mimicry of human gestures. "Did you hear that?" he inquired rhetorically of his patient companion, referring to the throbbing sound. "They’ve shut down the main reactor and the drive." His voice was as full of disbelief and concern as that of any human. One metallic palm rubbed dolefully at a patch of dull gray on his side, where a broken hull brace had fallen and scored the bronze finish. Threepio was a fastidious machine, and such things troubled him."Madness, this is madness." He shook his head slowly. "This time we’ll be destroyed for sure." Artoo did not comment immediately. Barrel torso tilted backward, powerful legs gripping the deck; the meter-high robot was engrossed in studying the roof overhead. Though he did not have a head to cock in a listening posture like his friend, Artoo still somehow managed to convey that impression. A series of short beeps and chirps issued from his speaker. To even a sensitive human ear they would have been just so much static, but to Threepio they formed words as clear and pure as direct current. "Yes, I suppose they did have to shut the drive down," Threepio admitted, "but what are we going to do now? We can’t enter atmosphere with our main stablizer fin destroyed. I can’t believe we’re simply going to surrender."
A small band of armed humans suddenly appeared, rifles held at the ready.
Their expressions were as worry-wrinkled as their uniforms, and they carried about them the aura of men prepared to die.
责任编辑：mman
