The Ruins of Dantooine (20 page)

The officer pulled out a datapad and stylus. He noted her credentials and then Finn’s.

“That should do it, then,” he said. Then he looked at his information and frowned. “Ah,” he cleared his throat.

Dusque turned back around with an angry look on her face. “What?” she asked, sounding extremely put out.

“I need to fill out a reason. Why … um … are you here? We heard no word of it.”

“I am part of an advance group, scanning this world and other unpopulated ones in the Outer Rim,” Dusque said.

“For what purpose?” the officer asked and Dusque thought he seemed genuinely curious.

“For future colonization,” she said.

“Oh …,” he replied.

“Play your sabacc cards right, officer, and you might be the lead garrison for the next major Imperial base,” she finished with a flourish.

As she suspected, the officer perked up when he heard that he might actually be in command of something other than a forgotten post on an empty world. He didn’t even look down at his datapad after that. He straightened up and gave Dusque a genuine salute.

“We’re in order here. Good luck and let me know if we can be of any further assistance to one of the Emperor’s bioengineers.” Then he added, “We have heard of some smuggling activities going on north of here. Perhaps I should send a small detachment with you?”

“I appreciate the offer,” she told him. “Officer …?”

“Fuce,” he replied, “Commander Fuce.”

“I appreciate it, but I suspect your men don’t have the training and skills needed to take samples and conduct surveys. Without that, they would only slow us down. But I appreciate the offer and the warning. And I’ll make sure my superiors know how well informed and helpful you’ve been. Thank you,” she told him.

He saluted again, then turned on his heels and marched back to his station.

Dusque and Finn navigated through the small outpost without any other incidents. Dusque was vaguely aware that except for a few disreputable types hanging about the tiny, nearly deserted cantina, there was no one else around. The place had been forgotten by enemies and friends alike.

When they finally cleared the compound walls, whatever pretense of civilization had existed within those boundaries disappeared. The view opened up to rolling hills and savannas. The lavender grass that grew rampant on the planet turned the entire countryside a soft purple as far as the eye could see. As Dusque was scanning the horizon, the dark clouds finally released their moisture. Big, heavy drops started to fall. She held out her hand and smiled at their luck.

“Perfect,” she said to Finn. “This will help mask our scent from several species of the local wildlife.”

“It is perfect,” he agreed with a strange look in his eye. “You handled yourself very well back there. I was impressed.”

Dusque found herself blushing at his praise and she lowered her head. “I was scared,” she admitted. “Really scared for the first time in my life. And I wasn’t scared for me—I was frightened for all the people on the list, all the people back at that base, all the nameless souls in the galaxy. But most of all, I was afraid for you.”

She felt his hand under her chin, warm and dry, as he tipped her head up.

“I can’t believe I’ve met someone like you in my
life now, here at this moment and we should be involved in this …” He shook his head sadly.

“I know,” she told him. “There’s no time. But if we’re successful …” She trailed off, unwilling to presume anything.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately. For a moment, under the boughs of the twisted biba tree, there was no Galactic Civil War, just two people.

“We have here,” he said when the kiss ended, “and we have now. There’s no point in dwelling on a tomorrow that may never come.”

It was Dusque’s turn to stare at him. “But we
have
to believe in a tomorrow,” she insisted. “Otherwise there is no purpose in today.”

Finn pulled himself away from her and composed himself. “You’re right,” he agreed eventually. “Sorry, I was caught up in the moment.”

“There’s no need for apology,” she told him.

“No, there is.” But he didn’t explain. Instead he turned away from her and pulled out his scanner, took a brief reading, and then pointed to their left. “North by northeast,” he announced. “We haven’t got much time.”

Troubled, Dusque let him take the lead, and they entered into the uncharted wilderness of Dantooine.

With the Imperial base far behind them, Dusque and Finn moved quickly but cautiously. The purple fields were littered with all kinds of flowers, and at unguarded moments Dusque found herself thinking that Dantooine was one of the most beautiful planets she had ever seen. It looked like some wild, unkempt garden that had gone to seed. Beyond the lavender hills, olive-colored steppes framed the sky. Even the rain, which continued to fall, and the ominous roll of thunder in the distance couldn’t dampen how she felt.

As they jogged along a small gully, Dusque wondered what was going through Finn’s mind. She knew he cared about her, and she was past the point of denying to herself that she felt something for the lanky, black-haired Rebel. If it hadn’t been for him, she thought, she probably would have been killed with Tendau. His fortuitous arrival had saved her from that certain fate, and he had given her a goal into which to channel her rage and frustration. He had been the one who had started her down the
path. If for no other reason, he would be special to her. But nothing was ever that simple.

Before she could think on it further, she heard a thumping in the distance. She slowed her pace, and Finn did, too. They slowly climbed up a steep hill and dropped down to their bellies at the apex. Off to their right was a herd of very large creatures. Dusque berated herself for being careless enough to nearly blunder into them.

She suddenly realized that this was exactly why Finn was being so strange and removed. He knew better than to let anything else cloud his judgment on something so crucial as their mission. She told herself she should do like him and remain focused.

The creatures stood three times as tall as a human, but most of that height came from the neck and head. They had thick, squat bodies with four short legs. Their hide was light on their bellies and darkened along their backs. Wide stripes added to their camouflage, so that when they tired of grazing and lay down, they became difficult to pick out on the steppes. And their elongated heads were covered with horns.

“Piket longhorn,” Dusque whispered to Finn.

The ground rumbled under them when one of the animals decided to lie down for a nap. It ungracefully tumbled onto its side, as though dead.

“They’re not going anywhere now,” Dusque commented.

“Are they aggressive?” Finn asked.

“Not normally. Occasionally there is the rogue
one to worry about, but mostly they’re peaceful grazers.”

“Big grazers,” Finn corrected, and she saw he had regained his dry humor.

“Very big,” she agreed. “But if they’re staying, we are going to need to move around them. And we need to watch for other, deadlier creatures. Believe it or not, these guys are the prey, not the predators.”

“Great,” Finn replied, raising and lowering his eyebrows. “I’d hate to see whatever it is that eats them.”

As they moved quietly back down the hill, the thunder grew much closer. The sounds helped mask any noise they might have made. As they ran back up the opposite side of the gully, Dusque and Finn saw another herd of piket ahead of them. Off to their left was a long, narrow lake that went on for a fair distance, and they both realized they had no choice. They secured their gear and dived in.

Once a little way out from the piket, Finn pulled on Dusque’s arm to get her attention. She turned around fearfully, treading water, and they looked at each other.

“Let’s cross over to the other side,” he said, pointing away from the piket.

Sputtering water, Dusque said, “But if we go on like this, hugging the shore, we can get past them and not lose too much ground.”

“I know,” Finn replied, “but getting out sooner makes more sense.”

“Don’t do it just for me,” she argued, paddling about awkwardly.

“We won’t lose that much time,” he assured her. Without waiting for an answer, he started to swim to the other side.

Dusque shook her head angrily and followed him, frustrated with herself for letting him take over, and with him, for taking over.

“Sorry,” she mumbled after he gave her a hand out of the water.

“You save us from stumbling into a pack of very large animals and you apologize?” He grinned. “So we take the scenic route, so what?”

They started up again, although they had to veer to the west because of the lake. The rain started to slow, but the sky was still an ominous gray, blending into the lavender hills. For a brief time, Dusque and Finn did not come across any other living thing, and the only sound that disturbed the silence was the soggy squish their boots made in the soft ground. Soon enough, though, several forms started to separate themselves from the misty hillside.

Dusque recognized the grazers immediately. Thune, they were called. There were five of them. Each was the size of a small shuttle, with a massive head and legs and gray hide that appeared wrinkled and hard. One lifted its head and looked directly at the two humans, and Dusque could hear Finn’s sharp intake of breath. From the center of the thune’s face swung a huge, noselike appendage; thin, full ears circled its head like a halo or a collar.

Dusque touched Finn’s arm. “It should be okay to move through them, provided we don’t make any quick movements,” she whispered.

Finn eyed the beasts warily, especially noting their very large feet. “You sure?”

“Yes,” she replied. “We’ll be fine so long as they don’t stampede.”

“Terrific,” he muttered under his breath.

With caution, they started to walk slowly through the group of five individuals. Dusque couldn’t keep from smiling. She had never had the opportunity to observe these magnificent creatures up close. The temptation to touch one of them was overwhelming. She reached out a hand and lightly trailed her fingers against the thune’s tough hide. The creature didn’t even seem to know that something had touched it.

Suddenly, one of the other thune began flapping the collar of its ears rapidly back and forth.

Finn moved up beside Dusque and gripped her arm. She could tell he was tensing to bolt.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “That’s not a threatening gesture. She’s just trying to cool herself down.”

“She’s fanning herself?” he asked in disbelief.

“Sort of,” Dusque replied. “Her ears are filled with thousands of blood vessels, and as you can see, the skin is fairly thin there. By flapping her ears, she cools the blood in that area and then that blood courses through the rest of her body, lowering her overall temperature.”

“Oh.” Finn sounded only marginally convinced.

Dusque laughed gently. “Come on, it’s safe. See?”
She pointed to the largest thune. “The matriarch is moving them away from us.”

Together they walked through the herd’s territory and kept going, trying to regain the ground they had lost. Suddenly, Finn grabbed Dusque’s arm.

“Down!” he whispered urgently, and yanked her into some bushes.

She looked at him in surprise, and he raised his finger to his lip, signaling for quiet. She watched as he drew his blaster and started to crawl along, low to the ground. When he waved at her to follow, she pulled out the heavy blaster she had brought with her and crept after him. She was rewarded by a look of surprise.

“Where’d that come from?” he asked. “What happened to the small one?”

Dusque shook her head. “A woman’s got to have some secrets.”

Finn’s mouth turned up in a smirk, despite the situation. But his good humor faded as soon as he turned his attention to what was just below the hill. He motioned for Dusque to take a look. Down in the small valley below, there were humanoids moving about.

There were about seven that she could see, and all but one were male. Larger and more brutish looking than the average humanoid, they were covered in thick, dark hair and wore simple animal hides and furs. They carried about only the most rudimentary tools—clubs and stone-head axes—and they were hunting.

“It might get a little rough here,” Finn warned.

“Why?” she asked.

“We’ve lost some time because of our detour; we can’t afford to lose any more, with what’s in the balance.” He started to take aim.

Dusque pushed his barrel aside. “We can’t. Those are Dantari. From the few accounts that exist, they are peaceful, simple people.”

Finn regarded her for a moment. “Are those few worth all the many lives that are at stake?” he asked with deadly seriousness.

After brief deliberation, she said carefully, “I think that if we were to hurt these people, we would be no better than those who serve the Empire. The people on that list want to help the Rebel Alliance, and that means that they are willing to risk their lives for complete strangers, no matter what the species. These are exactly the lives that they are willing to sacrifice themselves for.”

Finn slowly lowered his gun. “I guess you’re right.” He sounded sheepish. “I just want to get that device and blast out of here.”

“I know,” she answered. “So do I. But I don’t want it this badly.”

Finn nodded, but he looked frustrated. Turning away from her, he began crawling back the way they had come, and Dusque followed in silence. Neither spoke until both were certain they were downwind of the Dantari.

“We’re going to have to go farther north than we
planned and then cut eastward,” Finn whispered at last.

“We’ll need to keep our eyes out for any more of those people. Normally, they just range along the ocean,” Dusque told him, trying to recall what she had learned of the Dantari in her studies. “If they’ve come this far in to hunt, they may be part of a larger group.”

He nodded but did not reply. Dusque wondered if he was angry with her for telling him what to do, or angry at himself for not thinking things through more on his own. He remained silent as they rushed to detour around the Dantari and start regaining the ground they had lost. The rain tapered off, but the skies stayed overcast. Dusque, uncertain how to mend what felt like a breach between them, left him to his silence. But when she saw something decidedly unnatural in the distance, she spoke without thinking.