The Ruins of Dantooine

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  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 he
ad 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.

  “What?” she finally managed, more out of surprise than any conscious thought.

  “We need to get out of here,” he whispered urgently, still pulling her by the arm.

  Dusque shook herself free of his grip and twisted back to the knot of onlookers, her face like that of an avenging spirit. Finn ran back and caught her up in his arms and forced her to turn away.

  “If we don’t get out of here now,” he repeated, “we will both die and that will serve nothing. Don’t make it a wasted death!”

  Dusque felt as if she were moving through a dream. Tendau’s death echoed in her head and her heart. She deflated and let him hustle them both out of the shuttleport, past those who craned their necks to get a better look at her dead friend and those who thanked their fortune to still be standing. Once out of the launch area, she vaguely noticed the ticket terminal and the small groups of people chatting and having a few drinks before their departure.

  As she was rushed past them, she couldn’t help but think how wrong it was that they didn’t know Tendau was dead; that they didn’t care that he was gone forever. She couldn’t comprehend that he was gone. And she couldn’t understand how Finn had come to be there to save her at just the right moment. She raised a hand to her head, suddenly hot and claustrophobic. Finn kept them moving.

  Once outside, Dusque drew in a few deep drafts of air. Almost directly opposite them, past a crafting station, was a lively cantina. Finn started to take them in that direction, and Dusque hadn’t regained her senses enough to question him. She found it easier to let him pull her around than to actually process what she had just seen. At the entrance to the cantina, however, she abruptly froze.

  “Not in there,” she whispered. She couldn’t take the thought of being surrounded by noisy people, laughing and talking and carrying on.

  “Right,” Finn agreed. “Too many eyes. No way of knowing who might be in there.” He pulled her past the cantina to the back of the building. It was on the periphery of the city proper; the only thing behind it was a bit of a brick road that faded into the swamps and marshes. The building wall curved, and soon enough they were both out of earshot of anyone. Dusque leaned her back against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes, oblivious to the two tracks of tears that trickled down her hot cheeks. She remained motionless for several long moments.

  When she opened her eyes and faced the black-haired agent, there was a hard expression on her face. “Get out of my way,” she said through tight lips, her emotions at war with themselves. She needed to let them vent, and Finn provided a convenient target.

  Finn didn’t release his grip on her arm, though he relaxed it a little. “And where do you think you’re going? Are you seriously thinking of marching back over there? And doing what, exactly?”

  “There has to be justice,” she demanded. “There has to be. And I want answers.”

  “Listen to me closely,” he said, moving so near to Dusque that she could almost count his individual eyelashes. “As far as they are concerned, justice has been meted out. Go back there, and they’ll serve justice on you, as well.”

  “What are you talking about?” she cried, his words making no sense to her. “How could Tendau’s death be justice?”

  Finn looked around to see if anyone had heard her call out. Satisfied that they were still undiscovered, he continued, “Your colleague traded information with Bothan spies. He betrayed the Empire.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “He was a scientist. All he ever did was look for answers to nature’s secrets. He didn’t trade them.” But she thought back to the other night in the casino and the Ithorian’s conversation with the stranger—a conversation he had never explained. And now would never have the chance, either. Had something illicit transpired between them?

  Finn appeared to be unconvinced. “Well, in the eyes of the Empire, he was a traitor. And even his position couldn’t save him from a traitor’s fate.” He looked at her meaningfully and Dusque recalled their only other conversation, when he had warned her that her job was no guarantee of safety or anonymity. It certainly looked as if that had been true for Tendau. Could it be true for her, too?

  “And if they haven’t already,” he continued, “they’ll brand you a traitor right along with him.”

  “What?” she asked. She felt as though she couldn’t stop asking the question, couldn’t stop walking through a horrible dream.

  He let go of her arm and continued more softly, “You worked with him almost exclusively, day and night, out in the field. You tell me how they could not suspect you. Is there someone else in your labs who would stand up for you, speak on your behalf and proclaim your innocence, your loyalty to the Emperor?”

  Dusque stopped in her tracks. She knew that back in her sterile world, none of the others would say a word. And she had done nothing to set herself apart as a staunch supporter of anything. “No,” she finally said. “No one would. In fact, some would be glad to see me go.” She thought about what she sadly realized had been her last night with her only friend. She thought about how he said that nature must be put right, no matter the cost. And she thought about how she had done nothing like that. “And make no mistake,” she warned him, “I’m not innocent.”

  Finn looked slightly surprised by her last admission. He stepped back imperceptibly and ran his hands through his unruly hair. “Then you’re already a part of the Alliance?” he asked, confused.

  “No,” she answered, “but I’m guilty just the same.”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” he told her. “We need to get off this rock. If we don’t, they’ll capture you for sure. Trust me on that.”

  A frown crossed her features. She looked down at her torn and dirt
y shirt and trousers. She realized that she had only her small pack on her and nothing else. Her belongings as well as Tendau’s were back at the Hotel Aerie, just outside the city. “What about my things?” she asked. She knew it was a foolish question, but focusing on the mundane was helping her cope. “Everything is back in our—my rooms,” she corrected herself and felt a lump form in her throat, her voice suddenly husky with emotion.

  “There’s no time. You don’t have a choice any longer. We’ve got to go,” he said. “We’ll keep outside the city limits and stay on the perimeter.” He started to move, but Dusque held her ground.

  “We don’t have time for this,” he said, walking back to her. “Do you not understand the gravity of the situation? It’s not like you have a choice any longer.” The exasperation was clear in his voice.

  She regarded him steadily. “Oh, yes I do,” she replied. “I do have a choice.”

  His black eyes grew stormy. “You’re right, you do. You can stay here and die, or you can join the Rebellion.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she whispered, confused again.

  “Nothing ever is,” he said gently. “Then come with me for the Hammerhead’s sake,” he added, and Dusque momentarily bristled at his casual use of the slang for Ithorians. “If you don’t believe in me and what we stand for, then come with me because of what they did to him. Come with me for revenge.”

  Dusque swallowed her fear. She felt churned up inside, unsure of her emotions. What he said made sense at a basic level. It was the least she could do for her fallen comrade. Maybe, she thought, maybe I can’t right nature for you, but I can avenge you. That I can do.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s go.” And she placed her fate in his strong hands. For now, she thought to herself. I’ll trust you for now.

  SIX

  Finn led the way, keeping them close to the stone buildings on the edge of Moenia. From across the swamps, Dusque heard the cry of the peko peko. Subconsciously, she started to estimate how far away it was—probably twenty meters—as though she were actually going out to track the reptavian.