The Ruins of Dantooine

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  But those days were gone, she corrected herself.

  The spaceport, it turned out, was even closer. Finn stopped and turned to Dusque.

  “I can see the shuttle from here. We’re going to have to run for it,” he explained, and then a gentleness suddenly came over him. “Can you do it?”

  Dusque was confused. His concern for her made her feel moved and angry at the same time.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Let’s go,” he said, and they burst out running across the brick courtyard. Up the steps and past the throng of travelers, they ran at full speed. No one paid them any mind, however, and only one passenger even glanced at them. Dusque realized, as they weaved their way through the lounge into the docking bay area, that Finn had timed it almost perfectly. They didn’t stand out in their haste because the shuttle was nearly ready for departure. In fact, a Trandoshan doctor almost bowled them over in his hurry to board.

  Finn slowed down enough to toss their travel tickets at the protocol droid that was busy trying to collect and organize vouchers.

  They and the medic were the last to board the shuttle. As Dusque sank wearily into a seat and strapped herself in, she looked about the cabin. It was a ragtag and motley group that shared the transport with them. With the exception of the medic and themselves, she thought most of the others looked like questionable sorts. Some carried weapons whose capabilities she couldn’t even begin to guess at, and others appeared to be hunters. It dawned on her that she had no idea where they were going—but if the passengers were any indication, it was not a nice place. She resolved to ask Finn about it as soon as they took off. She was just going to close her eyes for a moment first …

  The next thing Dusque was aware of was someone insistently shaking her shoulder. She was so tired; she tried her best to ignore it. But the shaking only grew steadier the more she turned away from it.

  “All right, Tendau,” she murmured and weakly waved one hand, “I’ll break down the camp. Just give me a bit longer.”

  “We’re here,” Finn whispered, capturing her fluttering fingers in his grip.

  Dusque’s eyes flew open at the unexpected touch and the sound of the strange but increasingly familiar voice. She blinked her eyes to clear them and gazed around the ship. She saw that most of the passengers had disembarked. She and Finn were some of the last to leave.

  “That was fast,” she said.

  For the first time since they’d met, he flashed her a genuine smile. “How would you know? You slept the whole time.” He rose to his feet and offered her a hand up. “I understand, though,” he added when she looked down at her lap. “With everything that happened …”

  Dusque ducked her head and refused to accept his hand. She felt suddenly guilty for having rested at all. She thought that she should have maintained some kind of vigil for her lost friend, but instead she had slept like a child the first moment she’d had a chance to. “I’m fine,” she told him brusquely and moved past him.

  “Stubborn,” he muttered, following behind.

  Dusque smelled the heat before she felt it. She climbed out of the ship and squinted against the sun. Without waiting for Finn, she moved away from the landing area and found herself a vantage point. From there, she shielded her eyes and quickly scanned the area. Dust filled her nose, and a warm breeze caressed her cheek.

  The area where they had landed was mountainous, although she saw a valley to the south. The sun was just breaking above the range, and the sky was a yellow-pink. Directly in front of the shuttle was a bridge that led to a rather large outpost. The buildings, constructed mostly from sandstone and other local materials, almost faded into the harsh landscape. And there was no mistaking the smell of rotten eggs in the air. The bridge crossed a river not of water, Dusque surmised, but of sulfur. She put her hands on her hips and turned to Finn, who was watching her.

  “Well?” she asked him.

  He stepped over to her side. “Aren’t you even curious where we are?”

  “Lok,” she replied. “Obviously.”

  “How did you know? As far as I was aware, you’ve never been here before.”

  “I’m a biologist, first and foremost. And I’m good at my job,” she announced without a trace of vanity. “Just because I’ve never been here doesn’t mean I don’t know about the planet.”

  Finn raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”

  “The sulfur rivers gave it away,” she admitted, pointing to the canal ahead of them.

  Finn smiled broadly and Dusque thought he was pleased. “They do reek a bit, don’t they?”

  Dusque nodded. “It’s because of the sulfur that the kimogilla developed such a tough hide. I’ve only seen one sample of it. Amazing, adaptive feature on the beast.”

  “Not to mention they’re one of the most venomous creatures in the galaxy and can swallow a Wookiee whole if the mood strikes them. If we’re lucky,” he added, “we won’t see a single one of those monsters while we’re here.”

  It was Dusque’s turn to be surprised. “You know your creatures.”

  “I know Lok,” he corrected her.

  “And that’s why we’re here?”

  Finn nodded. “I needed to get you off Naboo, and while this place isn’t somewhere you’d describe as safe, it is safer than the Emperor’s homeworld.”

  Some thirty meters away, Dusque saw a spined snake slither out of a rock cairn and strike at one of the flightless birds indigenous to Lok. The bird was dead before it hit the ground. While the snake dislocated its jaw to accommodate its meal, Dusque looked at Finn.

  “No,” she agreed, “I would definitely not think of this place as safe. Why here?”

  “I’ve got some connections,” Finn told her.

  “There are members of the Alliance here?” she asked. She knew they had to hide themselves well from the ever-vigilant eyes of the Empire, but Lok was a hellhole. As she kicked at the skull of a small scavenger beneath her feet, she wondered how desperate they must be to hide among the snakes and the dead.

  “No,” Finn admitted slowly, “not the Rebels. The ties I have to my connection go back farther than that. I used to … do things for him.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  After Finn checked to see they were alone, he said, “Nym. All of this here is his stronghold.”

  “I know that name,” Dusque remarked thoughtfully. Realization spread across her face after a moment. “Isn’t he the pirate who’s been raiding supply transports along the Corellian Trade Spine?”

  “How did you know that?” he asked, nonplussed.

  “He intercepted several shipments designated for my group. When I tried to find out what had happened to the supplies, his name was bandied about. It delayed a project of mine for some time.”

  Dusque regarded Finn with a keener eye than she had before. She had actually heard quite a bit about Nym and what he was capable of—or, at least, accused of being capable of. The lanky man standing in front of her not only worked covertly for the Rebels but, by his own admission, had even older ties with one of the most fearsome pirates this side of the galaxy, renowned for looting the hyperlanes of the Core Worlds. She looked at him and wondered what he was capable of. And she wondered what she had been drawn into.

  No, she corrected herself, I didn’t just fall into this. He was, after all, right. There had been no security for Tendau and Dusque in their work. She had chosen to do this, and she’d chosen to trust the man in front of her. Now she was going to have to see where her choice took her.

  “So you do know about him,” Finn replied. “Well, not only does he have an impressive ship of his own, but he has been amassing a small fleet here, as well. We should be able to get some covert transport.”

  “And just why would Nym help us, if he’s not with the Alliance?”

  “Let’s just say that he owes me a favor and the time has come to cash it in,” he replied grimly.

  “Must have been a big favor,” she mused.

  “I
t was,” he admitted, with a lopsided grin. “Remind me to tell you about it someday.”

  “I will.” She smiled back. “So, assuming he’ll help us, where do we go from here?”

  “We go on to Corellia, but that’s not our final destination,” he said. “I don’t know where we go after that.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “It’s a safety measure,” he said slowly, and Dusque sensed that he was choosing his words very carefully.

  “How does that keep us safe?” she demanded.

  “It doesn’t,” he replied, shaking his head. “It keeps the Alliance safe. If we fail, no one else will suffer from our deaths.”

  “I don’t understand,” she continued. “Everyone who joins must know they’re risking their lives and the lives of those around them.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed, “but you don’t understand. You don’t really know what the Empire is capable of.”

  “I have an idea,” she replied. “And I’m still here with you, willing to take my chances.”

  Finn scrutinized her for several moments. A hot breeze carried across the small plateau they were standing on, and some of Dusque’s hair blew across her face. Gently, Finn reached over and pushed the offending strands away from her gray eyes. The gesture was almost a caress, and Dusque felt unsettled. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Everyone betrays those they love to the Empire eventually; there’s no choice.” And he gave her a sad smile.

  “There is a choice,” she returned. “The problem is, sometimes we make the wrong one.”

  Finn seemed to contemplate her words, weighing them carefully. Dusque thought that it was as though he was wrestling with something.

  He probably hadn’t expected her to be serious, she thought. He was probably going to underestimate her just like everyone else did. Well, he was in for a surprise. If she could avenge Tendau, then any price was worth it.

  The silence between them was growing uncomfortable. “So where do we find Nym?” she asked.

  “Follow me,” he told her, leading her away from the shuttleport. Dusque realized that there was little need to hide on this planet; for the moment, they enjoyed safety amid the anonymity of refugees and renegades. There was one thing that concerned her, though.

  “What if there’s a price on my head?” she asked as they moved across the bridge that led to the collection of sandstone edifices comprising Nym’s stronghold.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” he told her as he swatted a rather large fly away from his face.

  Dusque pursed her lips. “That really must be a big favor that he owes you.”

  “Well—” He turned his head to look at her. “—the favor wasn’t that big. I just don’t think the price on your head will be all that high.” He held a serious face for a moment longer and then smiled at her.

  “Nice,” she replied. “Bounty humor.”

  “Come on,” he said with a slight chuckle.

  As they moved around the stronghold, Dusque saw a group obviously preparing for a hunt. Most wore armor of varying degrees and quality. Several were checking the readiness of their weapons and supplies. A Mon Calamari was counting out his supply of lecepanine darts and testing the strength of his wire-mesh traps. And a few even had their own animals with them. A full-grown gurrcat paced next to his master, and a Bothan was feeding her young bantha some of her travel biscuits.

  A well-armed human male walked over to them, and Dusque felt her pulse quicken. His chest shield winked in the sunlight. She noticed that Finn had edged his hand slightly toward his hip and realized that he must have a blaster secreted under his travel cloak. She breathed a little easier knowing he was armed.

  The man stood in front of them and looked them both over appraisingly. He nodded at Finn and let his gaze linger a little longer on Dusque. Normally, she would have been offended by his stare, but she bit back her indignation, understanding that drawing attention to themselves now was not in their best interest.

  “We’re looking for a few more to join us,” he began in a gravelly voice. “Want to group up?”

  Finn stood just forward of Dusque and said, “Not today, friend. We’re busy.”

  The hunter leaned against his polearm and blocked their path. Slightly taller than Finn, he tried to emphasize his height by looking down at Finn in an exaggerated fashion, using his weapon for balance. “I wasn’t referring to you. I meant the lady, and I am not your friend,” he added with a touch of menace.

  Dusque was slightly surprised when Finn didn’t do anything. The hunter shifted his weight to lean closer to her. “Now,” he repeated, “how about it?”

  Before Dusque could do anything, Finn swept his leg in an arc and knocked the polearm out from under the hunter. Without the weapon for balance, the man toppled over onto his face. Finn was on him in a flash. He straddled the larger man’s back and drew his concealed weapon. With a scout blaster aimed at the fallen man’s head, Finn said through gritted teeth, “I said we were busy and that means the lady, too. Understood?”

  Shown up in front of his snickering crew, the hunter nodded without saying a word.

  “Good,” Finn told him and then stood up, holstering his weapon with practiced ease. He nodded once to Dusque and then helped the shamefaced hunter to his feet. As they walked away, Finn tossed back a parting remark over his shoulder. “And you were mistaken. I am your friend. If I wasn’t, you would be dead.”

  Maneuvering around the bustling streets, Finn seemed right at home to Dusque. She was certain he had been there before, and obviously for a fair stretch. He ducked and weaved through the alleys and byways until they were standing in front of a cantina.

  “If he’s in town,” Finn explained to Dusque, “he’ll be here.” He pushed open the door for her, and they walked in.

  After the bright sun, it took Dusque a few moments to adjust to the dim lighting of the bar. Off to one side, a lone Bith played a slitherhorn. There was a nalargon next to him, but it was not being played. Probably too early in the day, Dusque thought. Perhaps the rest of the Bith would perform later. Very rarely did the baggy-headed aliens travel alone through the galaxy; they tended to tour in groups. Because they saw sounds in much the same way others saw color, they made excellent, if expensive, musicians. Nym, she reasoned, must be very wealthy.

  Several Zabrak milled about the bar and were busy discussing animals. Dusque caught bits and pieces of their conversation. They, like the group outside, were planning a hunt. But they were hoping to capture several species for training, not trophies. She almost wished she could go with them. Lok boasted some of the harshest geography and climate in the galaxy, and Dusque marveled at the way nature had allowed its creatures to survive and adapt.

  Finn walked around the bar toward a seating area in the back. It was deserted, and Dusque suspected they were out of luck. But then she saw Finn approach a partially hidden door and continue farther into the recesses of the cantina. She hurried to follow him, enjoying the cooler temperature of the darkness.

  Rounding a corner, they entered another room. It was hazy and filled with smoke. A few human men sat at a small table in the corner, lost in their conversation. A Twi’lek female wearing a few strategically placed pieces of cloth undulated seductively in another corner of the room, dancing to music no one but she appeared to hear. Toward the back, reclining on a couch carved out of the sandstone, was the person they were looking for. Finn walked over, and Dusque followed close behind.

  It was impossible for Dusque to tell the age of the pirate sitting on the couch. He could have been forty or four hundred. Although he was sitting, she estimated he was at least two meters tall. What she could see of his green, hairless body was heavily rippled with muscle. He had pronounced brow ridges that cast strange shadows over his red eyes, and while he didn’t have a nose like humans did, he did have the suggestion of nostrils that ended in two tendrils hanging to his chest. Several thicker tendrils sprouted from his scalp and hung about his shoulders like hair. He
wore bits and pieces of armor carefully placed, and carried two blasters at his hips and at least one armband of additional ammunition. He sat effortlessly enough, drinking what looked like Vasarian brandy from a large mug and nodding in time to the Twi’lek dancer’s movements. She noticed he had placed himself at the back of the cantina, with a good view of the room and near another half-concealed door. A kusak lay curled at his feet. The partially armored canine was a fearsome species that, if tamed, was loyal to the death. She saw he was stroking the animal absently with his free hand. While he might have appeared unaware to the casual observer, Dusque realized he was extremely tactical in his positioning. He was no one to be taken lightly.

  When he saw Finn, a slow smile of recognition crossed his face. Dusque noticed that it did not reach his eyes, however. They glowed a deadly crimson.

  “Finn,” he said easily, “what brings you back to my doorstep?” He cast an appraising eye over Dusque, but in a discreet way, far from the obvious ogling of the hunter from outside. “And in better company than the last time I saw you.” He motioned for them to sit and join him at his small table.

  Finn pulled up a chair, flipped it around, and straddled it with his arms across its back. Dusque got herself a chair and waited for Finn to start talking. She found, however, that she had a hard time diverting her gaze from Nym. He was an impressive specimen, and she racked her brain trying to decipher what species he was.

  “Hungry? You look like you could eat me alive,” he told her, and Dusque shook her head. It dawned on her that she had been far less subtle in her observations of him than the reverse.

  Finn started to speak, but Dusque interrupted him. “I’m sorry for staring,” she apologized sincerely. “It’s just that I never thought I would ever be fortunate enough to see a Feeorin in my lifetime.”

  Nym regarded her shrewdly for a long moment. She could see Finn shift uncomfortably on his chair, and she wondered if she had somehow offended their prospective savior by her statement. But Nym broke the tension by dropping his head back and laughing with a deep, throaty bellow. When he straightened his head, he nodded in acknowledgment to Dusque.