The Ruins of Dantooine (10 page)

As dawn broke with its thin, pink tendrils snaking across the sky, they made good time heading back to Narmle, even though they were exhausted from their flight from the cavern. Dusque, elated at their relative success, could not resist stopping to take a quick survey of some small warrens that she had noticed on their way out to the caves. While she was sampling, she thought she heard a low growl not too distant from where she and Tendau were working.

“Do you hear something?” she asked him quietly.

“No,” he replied.

“I think something’s been following us,” she told him.

“Child, you are imagining it. I think we are both still somewhat on edge.”

“Just the same, let’s keep moving, okay?”

“Of course.” And they packed up their equipment and continued on.

Suddenly, the low growls that Dusque was certain she had been hearing stopped entirely. Rather than relieve her, though, it made Dusque’s hackles
rise. Before she could even turn around to say another word to Tendau, the jungle exploded around them in a cacophony of snarls and screams. Dusque realized that one of the screams had come from her.

A huge tusk-cat came crashing out from the thick brush. Weighing easily four times as much as Dusque, it had two very prominent canines protruding from its jaw that lent its kind their name. The feline was sand colored with a very long tail and strong haunches, although its fur looked mangy and patchy. Dusque and the Ithorian tried to dart for cover. Dusque made it to some trees, but Tendau was not so fortunate.

The tusk-cat bounded after the Ithorian without hesitation. Dusque could see that he was fumbling for his blaster, his fright and his exhaustion making him clumsy. The tusk-cat was about to pounce on him, and Dusque knew he didn’t stand a chance. Seeing him in mortal danger, she acted without thinking.

Unsheathing her dagger, she rushed at the charging tusk-cat. With a leap, she landed partially on its back. As soon as she made contact with the cat, she locked her arm around the creature. Surprise and momentum were on her side, and Dusque diverted the feline’s attention away from Tendau and onto herself.

The large cat galloped around like an unbroken tauntaun, trying to buck the offending weight off it. Dusque, at the same time, tried to slash at the cat’s throat, but it managed to snap its jaws dangerously
close to her hand in retaliation. The sharp teeth caught her on the arm and Dusque screamed in pain. She managed not to drop her dagger, but she lost her grip on the cat. The tusk-cat bucked again and Dusque went flying across the small clearing, landing hard on her side. The enraged beast turned and charged. Dusque rolled off her side onto her back and raised her small dagger in the air just as the feline leapt.

Tendau, having freed his blaster, dropped to one knee. For a brief instant, Dusque could see him take aim. Then her vision was eclipsed by the sight of the tusk-cat, jaws spread wide, descending on her. She brandished her dagger forward and aimed right for the center of the cat’s throat, knowing the gesture was fruitless but refusing to give up. As the feline landed, the air around them was filled with a blinding red haze. Dusque heard the tusk-cat howl and snarl in rage and pain just before collapsing on top of her. She wasn’t even sure if her knife had struck its mark. The weight of the cat forced all the air out of her lungs. She dimly thought she heard the whine of another blaster shot slice through the air. Vaguely, she realized the cat was suffocating her. Dusque tried to push against the body, to no avail. She found it difficult to draw in a breath, and more colored lights danced and flashed behind her lids as she grew light-headed.

Slowly, Dusque felt the cat start to move.

“Dusque,” she heard a muffled voice call.

She started to push the cat in the direction it was
already moving, and as part of the feline cleared her head, Dusque could see the Ithorian above her. He was straining against what Dusque now recognized was deadweight. The tusk-cat was finished. Although her hands were somewhat pinned, Dusque used her knees and legs to try to help Tendau move the carcass off her.

She gave a hard shove, grunting with the exertion. Between the two of them, they moved the cat far enough so that Dusque could pull herself out from under the dead animal.

“Are you all right?” Tendau asked with great concern. He knelt down next to her and ran his hands over her bleeding arm.

“I’ll be fine, I think,” she said and grinned ruefully. “Good shot.”

“Sorry I wasn’t faster. Let me retrieve your pack and tend to this,” he added, indicating her arm.

Dusque pulled away at the torn fabric of her sleeve and examined the wound. It looked relatively superficial to her. “Leave it,” she told the Ithorian. “We shouldn’t stop for this. She probably wasn’t alone.”

The Ithorian returned to her side and started to rummage through her bag. “I haven’t heard anything else. If she was with her pack, they would’ve descended by now.” Looking at her bloodied clothing, he added, “That smell would’ve driven them into a frenzy.”

“You’re probably right,” Dusque agreed after some thought. She watched as he laid out a ground
cloth for a somewhat sterile field and pulled out bandages and a few stimpaks. She sat cross-legged and offered her injured arm out to Tendau. Carefully, he cleaned and dressed her wound.

They managed to return to Narmle and Moenia without any further incidents. Despite her wounds, Dusque enjoyed the quiet trek through the wilderness. But once they reentered the city, all the doubts she had tried to dismiss came rushing back like waves crashing on a shore. Once again she recognized how fortunate she was to have a friend and colleague like Tendau in her life.
He helps me and supports me and I’m lucky to know him. But what can I do for him? I take and take and stay safe. I work for the Empire, but I don’t embrace their beliefs any more than I’ve embraced those of the Alliance.
And when she thought of the Rebels, her mind drifted back to the black-haired agent who had haunted her since they had first locked eyes.

Maybe, just maybe, like Finn said, by choosing not to take a chance, I’ve been choosing not to live. What does that make me in the end?
she wondered.

The spaceport was crowded for the return flight to Naboo. As Dusque looked around, absently rubbing her wounded arm, she saw many folks who appeared tired and scared. She suspected they had come to Rori to answer some call to adventure and had been beaten back. Realizing their mistakes, they were fleeing back to those things that they knew. But, Dusque noted to herself, they had all taken a
chance. At least they could comfort themselves with that knowledge during the long nights ahead of them.

The shuttle flight wasn’t long, but Dusque was haunted the whole way. And while she had accused her mother of becoming a shadow back when she lived at home, Dusque suddenly feared the fact that maybe she had been the ghost in her family all along. Perhaps the time to choose had come. And yet she still felt torn.

“What should I do?” she asked the faint reflection that stared back at her from the shuttle window. But that specter had no answer for her. She sulked in silence.

When the shuttle touched down, there was a huge rush of people. Travelers spilling out of the shuttle were replaced by nearly as many eager to get on. Dusque was shoved and jostled and she remembered why she liked being in the field so much, even if it meant that she was being hunted by something decidedly bigger than she was. Folks of all classes with all manner of baggage were milling about in the open-air arena of the shuttleport. Some had released their pets, and an extremely large peko peko hovered obediently near its owner. The blue of its skin was dazzling in the morning sun. Dusque noted that the Naboo tended to revere them less as living things than as trophies. It was the Gungans who kept them as pets.

While Dusque was admiring the reptavian, she unknowingly lost track of Tendau. By the time she had retrieved her small pack, he was nowhere to be
found. She turned and turned, pushing against the crowd of people, trying to locate him. She wasn’t worried so much as curious where he had gotten off to again. While she was searching, she thought she caught sight of the black-haired Rebel, Finn. In spite of herself, Dusque felt her heart skip a beat. A Gungan trader walked past her, his falumpaset trailing behind him. The quadruped was nearly three times as big as Dusque, with packs and equipment strapped to its back. As it passed by her, it obscured her view. She ducked her head from one side to the other, trying to catch a glimpse around it, but by the time the gray-skinned creature had moved past, Finn was nowhere to be seen. Dusque scanned the crowd briefly and then dismissed him as a mirage, conjured by her imagination since he had been weighing so heavily on her mind. Then a ripple of activity went through the already bustling crowd.

Dusque was tossed around by the throng. As she pushed back to keep her balance, she started to become worried. Something was not right. A few of the travelers started to yell. Over the growing din, Dusque could hear the heavy tread of armored feet echo across the stone walkways, approaching rapidly. The shuttle departed so suddenly that its blast knocked a few of the disembarking passengers off their feet. Dusque found herself on her stomach, blinking dust from her eyes. She raked her hair from her face, and when her vision cleared, she could see Tendau about ten meters away. He was completely surrounded by white-armored stormtroopers. The
sun, which had actually broken through the heavy cloud cover that always seemed to shroud Moenia, winked and glinted off their armor. Dusque squinted against the glare and saw that a dark-clad Imperial officer of the Security Bureau was reading to the Ithorian from a datapad he held in his hand. Although he was surrounded, Tendau was making no attempt to flee.

Dusque was not so reserved. She sprang to her feet and started to shove her way through to reach him. But those who had recovered their footing were backing away collectively from the tableau in front of them. Some tried to run for the exits, while others crouched and cowered fearfully. Dusque was in a state, her emotions making her rash. First she knocked down a small Bothan woman holding a basket of fruit, then she ran up against a newly formed wall of spectators. She grabbed a Rodian by the shoulders and tried to yank him aside. But the crowd had bunched up and there was nowhere for Dusque to move him. He turned angrily and looked at her coldly with his multifaceted eyes.

“Watch what yer doin’, woman,” he yelled at her.

“I’ve got to get to him!” she cried and strained to see past the gawkers who were now riveted by the scene.

“No, you don’t,” he warned her, “trust me on that. They’ve got a warrant for the Hammerhead’s arrest and execution.”

“What?” Dusque demanded. “What has he done? What’s going on here?” All the while, she was trying
to force her way closer, to no avail. Almost sensing the impending danger, the crowd was no longer trying to move away. Another line of stormtroopers moved into formation, creating a solid line in front of the spectators, this time to keep them back.

“I heard someone up front say he was a traitor,” the Rodian replied distractedly. “Sold some information or bought some. Who knows?” He turned to get a better look.

Horror-stricken, Dusque saw that the Imperial officer was putting away his datapad, his pronouncement finished. He signaled to three of the troopers, and two of them seized the Ithorian by his long arms. He made no move to struggle as the two dragged him toward an open section of the spaceport, followed by the third, who was brandishing an E-11 blaster rifle.

“Nooo …,” she moaned quietly. She tore at the shirts and sleeves of those around her in an effort to burst free. But the more she pushed, the more she was shoved back. At one point, she was certain that Tendau saw her. He shook his domed head sadly and let it hang down. She cried out to him, freeing one hand between the troopers to wave imploringly. He raised and lowered his hand, signaling for her to stop: death ahead, it meant in their private language.

Her fear and rage made her reckless, blind to the imminent danger all around her. “You don’t understand,” she screamed at the officer. “You’re making a terrible mistake!”

The officer glanced over in her direction. He cocked his head and tried to find out who exactly was screaming at him. His hand dropped to his sidearm, and Dusque was too frenzied to notice the implied threat in his actions. She was starting to scream again when a strong arm wrapped itself around her waist and yanked her backward, nearly off her feet. She twisted wildly against whoever was pulling her away from the front of the crowd, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Tendau.

The two stormtroopers who had pulled him toward the far side of the shuttleport now stepped away from him, although they kept close enough in case he tried something. But the Ithorian simply raised his head to look at the sky. The third trooper faced him from three meters away and drew a sight on him with his blaster.

“Ready,” the stormtrooper said, not really asking a question.

Dusque grew limp and found herself using the arm that still held her as support, instead of struggling against it. “No,” she whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Now,” the officer ordered. The crowd had grown deafeningly quiet.

The Ithorian dropped his gaze to look directly at the soldier, then spread his arms wide in an almost welcoming gesture. The stormtrooper fired his blaster rifle once, the red beam slicing through the morning air with a deadly whine. It struck Tendau
directly in his chest. He convulsed inward and crumpled to the cold stone. He twitched once and then was still.

Dusque screamed out and bent forward, feeling as if the beam had struck her, as well. She lifted her head, and a snarl of defiance escaped her lips. She dragged a forearm across her moist eyes and tried to launch herself at the officer, but another arm encircled her and she felt herself wrenched farther away from her target. She fought against the grip and twisted around to come face-to-face with Finn. She was dumbfounded. The Rebel spy used the opportunity to drag her farther back into the crowd toward the main exit of the shuttleport.