The Ruins of Dantooine (19 page)

Finn had moved away from a workbench area and squatted on the floor, feeling the grooves of the floor panels. When his fingers caught on a release, he opened up the cover to reveal a cache of a different kind. He motioned for Dusque to come over. When she did, she whistled appreciatively.

There was a deadly array of blasters and short-range rifles, along with survival knives and a few other weapons. There was also an electronic lock breaker, comlinks, sensor tags, and even several thermal detonators. She looked at Finn and felt the gravity of what they were walking into.

“If something happens,” he said, answering her unasked question, “we blow the list and everything else. Nothing left.”

Dusque found she didn’t have the words to answer him, so she nodded silently.

There was a whistle from the comm unit, and they turned in unison. Finn slid into the pilot’s seat and grabbed the headset. Dusque finished up the inventory and prepared herself for the flight.

“Go ahead,” she heard Finn say, but because he was using the headset, she couldn’t hear who was on the other end.

“Yes,” he answered, “we’re set to go now. There’ll be no further communications until we return with
the item. Finn out.” And he pulled the headset off roughly.

He was tense, she thought, as she was. But she also wondered if he was a little unsure. Since the crash on the Mon Calamari’s vessel, Dusque had had a nagging doubt about his piloting skills. Maybe, she thought, he was having them now, too. She wondered how she could help.

She stuck her head in the cockpit. “You know, you don’t have to hide what’s being said anymore. I understand the risks, so don’t feel like you need to shield me.”

“We’re in the business of secrets,” he answered, “and so are you, now. ’Fraid you’re going to have to accept that. It’s almost time, so you’d better strap in.” With that, he turned his attention to the myriad switches and flashing lights that made up the control system. Dusque ducked back out and went to get settled in her seat.

“All set?” he called out after a minute.

“Just strapping in now,” she replied. She pulled the sturdy restraints over her shoulders and across her torso, locking them in tight.

“As soon as we’re out of the gravity well, feel free to come up,” he told her.

The shuttle shuddered a little as it rocketed through the atmosphere, and Dusque thought briefly that she was coming to hate space travel almost as much as C-3PO seemed to, judging from one of his many tales of anguish she hadn’t managed to tune out completely.

Then she chuckled to herself. “Great, now I’m starting to think like a protocol droid.”

“What?” Finn called back to her.

“Nothing,” she replied, embarrassed to be caught talking to herself.

Looking out the viewport, Dusque watched as Corellia shrank from view, a beautiful blue-green dot that soon enough became indistinguishable from the rest of the stars in the velvet blackness. She watched the lights wink and twinkle and was once again amazed that so many of those dots teemed with life. She had always been fascinated by the variety of life in the galaxy—otherwise she would not have chosen the profession of bioengineer. But now she realized she had more appreciation for that life—for all lives, each one unique and individual and precious. She felt that she had been a removed observer but was now a true participant, like a wrix that no longer saw in black and white, but could see and appreciate colors.

“Coming up?” Finn asked, breaking her reverie. She undid her straps and joined him in the cockpit.

“We don’t have too much time before we reach Dantooine,” he began, and Dusque thought he was going to make some sort of declaration to her in case something happened to one or both of them. It was, after all, a very real possibility.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I’d like to show you some of the controls, so that you could fly this thing in case …” He left the rest unsaid.

Not what she had hoped to hear, but she understood his concerns. “All right,” she replied.

For nearly an hour, he gave her the basic rundown on how the ship operated, from using the deflector shields to jettisoning cargo if needed. Dusque tried to take in as muchas possible, but was daunted by the enormity of the job. Finally, perhaps sensing her growing frustration, Finn stood up.

“I’m going to go back and change, get geared up, so I’ll leave you to it for a while,” he told her. “We’ve made the jump to hyperspace, but go ahead and go over the controls for yourself. Holler if you have any questions.” And he moved toward the rear of the shuttle.

Dusque sighed and went over the mental checklist he had given her. She had newfound respect for pilots, because even with all the technology at their disposal, doing the job well was extremely difficult. She thought that if she had to, she could probably get the thing up in the air, but wasn’t sure she’d be able to fly it beyond that, and she didn’t even want to think about landing. She studied the controls, but the more she looked at them, the more they all started to look alike. She was rubbing her eyes in frustration when a signal blared, startling her. She glanced at the board and was pleased to realize that she remembered what the signal meant: it was time to drop out of hyperspace.

Finn came hurrying up front, wearing a standard-issue, all-weather environmental suit.

“We’ll be in orbit shortly,” he told her, sitting
down. “Why don’t you go and get changed? You have a few moments before we have to strap in for landing.”

As Dusque hurried back, she felt her mouth dry out. She was approaching the moment of truth, and the thought of the task that lay in front of them made her heart pound. Her fingers trembled slightly when she snapped the closures on her environmental suit and strapped on the sport blaster that was permissible for nonmilitary personnel. Telling herself to relax, she stuck several power packs into her sack and strapped on a survival knife. Then she decided to conceal a heavy blaster inside her tunic. Her outer cloak was fabricated from tough fiberplast, so she took the calculated risk that the weapon would be hidden well enough.

Then a flash on the auxiliary control board caught her eye, and she turned to look. Had that been a blip on the radar monitor? Wanting to be sure, she stared at the monitor and waited. After a short time, it happened again. It was as though something was following them, trying to stay just out of range.

She ran forward to the cockpit. “Someone is following us!” she told Finn.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

“Look at the radar!” she exclaimed, waving her hand at the monitor as she slid into the co-pilot’s seat.

For several long moments, both of them watched the monitor.

Finally Finn sighed and shook his head. “There’s nothing there,” he informed her.

“But there was,” she insisted.

“Look,” he told her, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder, “we’re both tense. You probably saw a meteor or an asteroid shoot by. It’s a very common mistake new pilots make.”

Dusque sat there, frustrated, with her arms crossed. She was sure she had seen something on the screen. Rather than argue with Finn over it, since without proof it looked like a losing battle anyway, she took up a silent vigil over the monitor, determined to catch it out. However, the screen remained accusingly blank, and Dusque started to think it had been a natural celestial occurrence after all.

“We’re coming up on the Imperial outpost,” Finn announced at last. “Get ready for landing. And no sign of anything following us,” he added without mockery.

“I guess I imagined it,” she admitted, feeling foolish. She wanted him to think she was competent—and then was annoyed with herself for caring so much what he thought of her.

As soon as they landed, they were contacted by the outpost command center.

“Prepare to be inspected,” a voice announced over the comm unit. Dusque and Finn exchanged a tense glance before Finn responded.

“Hatchway open, we’re ready for boarding,” he said into the comm.

The heavy tread of armor reminded Dusque of the spaceport on Moenia, when the stormtroopers had come for Tendau. Her blood pounding in her ears, she struggled to maintain an outward look of calm. Finn appeared stoic, but then he winked at her just as a stormtrooper entered the cockpit. That one gesture relieved her of an immense amount of tension. She inhaled deeply and stood to address the trooper.

“Everything in order?” she asked, seizing control of the moment.

“We’re still checking your cargo,” the armored stormtrooper replied through his transmitter.

Once again, Dusque was struck by how impersonal, how inhuman, every aspect of the Empire was. Even a voice lost all warmth when heard through their armor.

“Your clearance codes, please,” the stormtrooper added.

Dusque handed him her credentials, along with Finn’s falsified ones. The stormtrooper was momentarily put off when he saw that Dusque was the senior member of the group. Judging by his reaction, Dusque guessed he had never come across a woman in charge before. He continued to scrutinize them, and Dusque wondered just how good a job the Rebels had done with Finn’s forgeries.

“Everything appears to be—” the stormtrooper began, before he was interrupted.

“Come back here and take a look at these,” another officer said.

Dusque’s heart skipped a beat. She looked once at Finn and her mind raced. She was afraid that she had somehow not secured the panel correctly over their cache of weapons. Nausea swept through her when the first stormtrooper called her name.

“Come back here.” It was clearly not a request but an order. Finn moved to join her, but Dusque, her arm by her side, discreetly waved her hand to stop him.

“If need be,” she whispered, “I can make a run for it and you can blast out of here.”

She hoped he understood what she meant. If they were found out, he might be able to pilot the ship away while she distracted the stormtroopers by bolting out of the hatch and running. That way, at least one of them would survive. For a moment she was taken aback by this new Dusque: never before had she been so willing to put herself directly in the path of death. And certainly not for anything so nebulous as a
cause.

“Yes?” she asked, and was proud of the fearlessness in her voice.

She stepped back into the main cabin and saw that several stormtroopers were gathered in a knot. She could not see what they were looking at.

“Explain this,” he ordered, and Dusque feared the worst. She chewed her lip slightly and looked at the open hatchway, estimating how long it would take her to reach the outside before she was either apprehended or shot. Before she could decide, however,
the stormtrooper turned and faced her, holding something out to her.

Dusque let out her breath very slowly. Instead of some illegal weapon, the soldier had one of her collection tools in his gauntleted hand.

“It does look rather evil,” she replied easily, “with the trigger and the pointed dispenser unit, doesn’t it? It’s a liquid suspension device.”

The stormtrooper cocked his head and studied the unit again. “What?” he asked.

“Here,” she said, and plucked the device from his fingers. “Sorry, but I don’t want you to get the stuff on yourself. It’s highly viscous.”

“What do you use it for?” he questioned.

“It’s just one of the tools I use to preserve specimens and as a component in medical stimpaks. Don’t see much of this stuff out here, do you?” she commented, assuming an air of authority.

“No,” he replied, “I don’t see much of anything out here.”

She nodded in commiseration. “This isn’t the most glamorous assignment for me, either. Probably because I’m a woman,” she groused.

The stormtrooper nodded and ordered the rest of the troopers off the ship.

“Looks like everything is in order here,” he told her. “Don’t want to make this more difficult for you than it already is,” he added quietly.

“Thank you very much,” she responded and flashed him a grateful smile.

The stormtrooper left with the others and Dusque
went back to the cockpit. Finn stood up with a pleased expression on his face.

“Nice,” he told her. “Very nice.”

“Nothing to it,” she sighed and then chuckled. “Let’s move it.”

“After you—” He bowed at the waist. “—fearless leader.”

Dusque grabbed her pack and slung it onto her back. She made one last check of her gear, while Finn did the same. Certain they had everything they could think of, they stepped out into the base and sealed up the ship.

Dusque was struck once more by the sterility of the Imperial base. As she stepped out into the square, small clouds of dust puffed up from the red dirt. There were several flat buildings set up, but the place seemed like a ghost town compared to the Rebel base. There were almost no people around. At first glance, all Dusque saw were a few troopers and a lone Bothan who appeared to be surveying, filling a container with some type of amorphous gemstones. The outpost seemed to be the loneliest spot in the galaxy.

As they moved past the military lookout, a uniformed soldier came running after them. Dusque felt her heart rise up in her throat and she saw that Finn had slipped his hand inside his travel cloak. She did the same, her blaster easily within reach.

“Wait,” the officer called. “We’re not finished with you both just yet.”

Dusque turned around, Finn less than a meter behind
her. “I don’t understand,” she said gruffly, forcing a bravado she did not feel. “What is the matter now? You’ve held us up long enough.”

The officer regarded her with openmouthed surprise.

“I am an Imperial bioengineer. The Emperor will hear of this treatment when I am finished with this mission. If you think this post is as remote as it can get, you are sorely mistaken,” she finished with a touch of disdain.

“You haven’t logged in for our records,” the officer replied shamefacedly. “We don’t get many visitors, and the stormtrooper who passed you through forgot. It’s required.”

“Oh,” Dusque said and proceeded to act as though she was somewhat mollified by the officer’s obsequiousness. “I suppose that won’t take very long.”