The Ruins of Dantooine

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  “Then tell me what you want,” she answered.

  “You are absolutely vital to my current mission,” he replied.

  “How could that be? I don’t even know you.” But, just like at the jubilee wheel, Dusque could feel her pulse begin to quicken. I’m vital to something, she thought.

  “Because of who you are. Look,” he tried to explain, and Dusque could hear the edge to his tone, “the mission I accepted is critical to the Alliance. It could even potentially turn the tide in the Galactic Civil War. And you are the one who can make it work.”

  “All right, tell me more,” she said, lowering her voice and unconsciously taking a step closer to him.

  “You are an Imperial bioengineer. One of the top-ranking scientists in your class. That alone gives you free rein when it comes to travel. You show your credentials and no one bats an eye, and they certainly clear out of your way. And,” Finn added, “most important, it gives you access to any planet you desire. That’s why I need you.”

  “Oh?” Dusque asked.

  “I want to travel along with you as your assistant. I need to retrieve a device that contains the names of some vital personnel and I need to find it fast. The Empire knows of its existence and I’m sure they won’t waste any time sending their agents after it. With you as my companion, no one will question me. I can be in and out before anyone could be the wiser,” he finished.

  “Oh,” she said again, and she was hard pressed to hide the disappointment in her voice. Of course, she thought, he only wants me for cover.

  Perhaps sensing that he was losing her, he loosened his grip on her arm and added, “And I knew you would be sympathetic.”

  Dusque yanked her arm free of his grip. “What makes you think I would be a Rebel sympathizer?” she demanded, fear making her words harsh.

  “I know about you,” Finn told her, “and about your family.”

  “You don’t know my family and you certainly don’t know me,” she replied, her anger on the rise. “You don’t know me at all.”

  “That’s where you have underestimated the Alliance. Do you think your name was chosen at random? Do you think I would ask this of just anyone within your class?” Finn’s voice rose dangerously. “Please give me a little more credit than that.”

  Dusque folded her arms across her chest like a barrier against his words. But she didn’t back down.

  “Your father worked for the Empire,” he recited to her, “and look what that job brought your family. It drove him to his death. He couldn’t live with what he was doing.”

  Dusque lowered her arms slowly as though she were deflating, a shocked look on her face.

  “Your mother basically died with him, no longer the woman she had been. Your younger brother died at an ill-equipped Imperial training facility, and that was the nail in your mother’s living coffin, wasn’t it? And your older brother—”

  “Stop it,” she hissed at him.

  “All right,” he agreed. “Then let’s take a look at you. You study, you learn, and you take a job that turns out to be exactly what you didn’t believe in.”

  “What are you taking about?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “Don’t know what I mean? What about that mission on Tatooine?”

  “What about it?”

  “What happened to the genetic sample of the Sarlacc you were supposed to retrieve? Where did that disappear to?”

  “It wasn’t properly stored and didn’t survive the transport,” Dusque explained.

  “Sounds plausible enough,” Finn agreed. “Except you’re better than that. I think that you had an attack of conscience. After all, if the Empire started playing around with the DNA, mixing and matching creatures with that kind of potential for destruction, how many innocents could they kill?”

  “That’s not my problem,” she said, trying to dismiss his accusations.

  “Ahh … but I think it is. I think it bothers you more than you admit to anyone. And then there were the snow slugs of Alzoc Three, the failed attempt to improve the combat arachnids of Carida, the clawing dinkos of Proxima Dibal, the—”

  “That’s enough,” she interrupted.

  “You’re right,” he agreed and glanced around. “It was more than enough reason for the Alliance to take notice of you. We did. And we need you now.”

  “For cover,” she said, “and nothing more.”

  “Exactly.”

  She shook her head slightly, thinking that here again was someone who didn’t realize her abilities. He knew I had a sample from a Sarlacc, she thought, and didn’t even recognize how difficult it must have been to collect.

  “So that’s all I am to you people? You want me to risk bringing the displeasure of the Empire down on my head so that you can have a free ticket to go planet-hopping? I won’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m surprised you even have to ask, after you laid it out so obviously before me,” she countered, growing angry. She started to tick off items on her fingers. “The Empire destroyed my family. I won’t lose anything more to them. I’ve got a good job and I’m safe,” she added and started to walk away. Before she had taken two steps, though, Finn grabbed her and spun her around.

  “Safe?” he nearly shouted at her, but remembered where he was and lowered his voice. “You think you’re safe with your head buried in the sand? If we noticed the things you were doing, or rather not doing, it won’t take your Imperial superiors much longer before they do—if they haven’t already. And when they do,” he added, “they will come for you. Make no mistake about that.”

  Dusque shook her head in refusal, but didn’t say a word.

  “Don’t you see,” Finn added, moving closer to her, “that there is no safety in not taking a stand. The Empire doesn’t just kill exposed Rebels. Even if you choose to do nothing, you could still be choosing death.”

  Before Dusque could respond, Finn grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to him in a deep kiss. Dusque was momentarily stunned. But even more startling was the fact that she found herself responding to him. For a moment, she forgot who and where she was. A flash of white and the clink of armor, however, brought her back to reality as a stormtrooper patrol passed by them a moment later.

  Dusque pulled herself free of Finn’s grip and dragged a hand roughly across her mouth. She looked at him disgustedly and said, “Was I just cover there, too?” In the subdued light, though, Finn didn’t look so self-possessed. That observation off-balanced her more than the kiss, and she realized that she just didn’t know what to make of the man. It frustrated her, but it confused her, as well.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said awkwardly.

  Finn hadn’t given up quite yet. He reached out and caught her hand once more. “What will it take?” he whispered to her.

  Dusque shook her head and, without a backward glance, broke away. “I don’t know,” she answered, too quietly for anyone but herself to hear.

  THREE

  Tendau Nandon was slowly making his way around the casino. He hadn’t seen Dusque for a while and suspected that she had managed to head back to her hotel room. He shook his head sadly and nearly banged it against a low-hanging lamp in the process. The casino was just not well equipped for his kind, although it did accommodate a variety of other species well, judging by the happy noises.

  Or perhaps they are just too inebriated to notice, the Ithorian thought.

  The place had become more crowded since the doors had opened for the evening. Scores surrounded the spinnerpits, and there were lines to the lugjack machines four deep. It seemed as if at least a quarter of the players were winning, but it might simply have been that they were drunk and found everything worth cheering about. And when the Ithorian thought it couldn’t get any louder, he noticed an entertainer setting up behind a nalargon near the bar. As soon as he had tuned his instrument, though, he began to play a song that Tendau could almost recognize. As if on cue, a few Twi’lek dancers appeared from nowhere and began an impro
mptu show. Although the mood was festive, the Ithorian sensed an almost frantic pulse behind it.

  Deciding to take one more look at the sky before retiring for bed, he stepped through the double doors, almost tripping over a body in his way. At first he thought someone had fallen and injured himself, but then he realized that some of the more raucous patrons had literally spilled out onto the walkway. A brief inspection told him they were no worse for the wear. Then, as he started to shuffle along, he saw Dusque walking back toward the casino. He smiled, but his two mouths gradually turned down as he got a better look at her.

  She was walking with her head down, her eyes partially squeezed shut. With both hands, she was rhythmically rubbing her temples. She was so distracted that she nearly marched right past him. Tendau reached out with one long hand and brushed her shoulder. She twisted around with such a fearful look on her face, the Ithorian didn’t know which of them was more startled.

  “Are you well?” he asked her, concern echoing from both his mouths.

  She didn’t answer right away, and Tendau got an even closer look at her by the light of the casino sign. Her light brown hair was more askew than usual. Her face was flushed, and her eyes had the glassy quality of unshed tears. While Tendau knew that the human female was prone to fluctuations in hormone levels not seen in many other species, he had never known Dusque to fall victim to their cyclical nature. In fact, he could not recall ever seeing her so distraught.

  When he had first met her months ago, he had been struck by how earnest she looked. He had not been in the service of the Emperor for very long, and his colleagues had still regarded him with mistrust. As the only Ithorian in the group, he was certain he would always be a bit of an outsider. So he readily sympathized with the newest arrival. Because she was the only female there, he knew she would have an uphill climb to mesh with the other bioengineers. She was diligent, hardworking, and, he discovered from his personal experience, immaculate in her collecting techniques. It didn’t take him long to recognize that the woman didn’t make mistakes; she was very intentional about every aspect of her profession. What had impressed him the most, though, was her affinity with other creatures.

  Whether it was collecting DNA from anesthetized animals or sneaking into a lair or warren to investigate, he saw that Dusque moved as if she were a natural part of her surroundings. In those situations, she displayed a sense of balance that he rarely saw when she was with people. She appeared content when she was with animals, and at peace. She did not look that way now.

  He reached a gentle hand toward her face and laid it briefly against her brow before brushing an errant strand of hair from her eyes. She lost some of her fearful look and closed her eyes at his touch.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked her again.

  Dusque shrugged her thin shoulders and said tiredly, “Nothing is wrong, Tendau. I think the day has finally caught up with me. So I’m going to call it an evening, if you don’t mind,” she added and started to leave. But the Ithorian was not so easily avoided.

  “As long as you are going back in, why don’t you join me for something soothing to drink? You know it will help you relax,” he reminded her, not willing to have her go before he could find out why she looked so troubled.

  She smiled weakly up at him, and he knew her heart was not in it. But she agreed anyway. And he knew she did it for his sake alone.

  “You never do take no for an answer, do you?” she quipped.

  “Not where you are concerned.”

  Dusque shook her head and waved briefly. “It’s nothing, really,” she said, dismissing her obvious distress. “But maybe something to drink would be good before retiring.”

  Tendau nodded and motioned back to the casino doorway. He walked slightly behind her as they both sidestepped the drunken Trandoshan who was still lying on the ground. The doors slid open with an airless whoosh, and the sounds of the gamblers hit them like a wave. He saw that Dusque faltered a bit and seemed unsure of her footing. The Ithorian stepped alongside her and offered her the crook of his slender arm. She hesitantly accepted, and he led her toward the bar. He lowered his head enough so that one of his mouths was near her left ear.

  “Just one drink, maybe a little something to eat, and we’ll turn in. All right?”

  “All right,” she replied, and this time he saw that she smiled at him with some genuine warmth.

  There were twenty or so customers lined up along the bar. As Tendau and his colleague walked the length of it in search of two free seats, he noticed that more than one male turned and stared at Dusque. It happened quite frequently, and Tendau was saddened that she should always be so distressed by the reactions of others. Like most Ithorians, he revered nature and saw the beauty in all creatures. It was not hard to see her beauty; it was just sad that so few managed to look past it and really see her. And he knew Dusque was aware of that, as well. No matter how she excelled at a very difficult job, her gender was always a stumbling block. And he had noticed that lately she had accepted more and more hazardous missions. He suspected it was in an effort to erase her gender in the eyes of their superiors. He feared that her growing desire to dive into risky situations was going to land her in some very hot water, and he wouldn’t be there to help.

  Toward the far end of the bar, he saw a small empty table. Tendau motioned to it, and Dusque nodded. When the waiter droid left with their order, Tendau tried again to find out what was wrong.

  “Where did you get off to?” he asked her.

  “I was just wandering around, taking in the sights,” she replied evasively. “Isn’t that what you were doing, too?”

  “Did you try your hand at some of the games of chance?” he asked, sidestepping her question.

  “Oh yes, I got a little more than I bargained for,” she answered, and Tendau could discern a trace of bitterness in her voice. “What about you? Where did you end up?”

  “Oh,” he answered slowly, “I just walked around and made observations.”

  “Did you find Mastivo and pass along your regards?”

  “No, I was unable to locate him. I’m afraid I saw no one we know, after all.”

  “Oh,” she answered, “no one at all. Hmm …” She seemed to be fishing for some kind of answer, and the Ithorian wondered why. Normally, Dusque was one of the most straightforward beings he knew. Now she was coming across almost as devious in her approach with him.

  The droid returned with their order, and Dusque grew silent. Tendau observed that while she picked at a bowl of melon, she was surreptitiously scanning the room. He wondered who she was looking for, or if she even knew herself. Starting to worry, the Ithorian tried a different approach.

  “Our hosts have thought of everything tonight,” he told her. “They even brought in a nalargon player. He is not bad.”

  “I can just hear him over the crowd,” she replied. “I’ve actually been listening for the last few moments. Surprisingly, I think his playing is making my headache fade a bit.”

  “They are known to be very calming,” Tendau agreed. The music and the food seemed to be relaxing her a bit. He tried again. “Will you tell me what happened tonight?”

  Dusque looked at him sharply and seemed to be weighing something in her mind. She leaned slightly forward and he could see that she was chewing her lip. It was a behavior he had noticed she exhibited when something serious was bothering her. She seemed on the verge of speaking when she heard a piece of a conversation off to one side and shut down again.

  “Not here,” she said.

  The Ithorian decided to let the matter rest for a while and they ate silently, the only ones in the casino who weren’t talking. He concluded that she would tell him or not in her own time and fashion.

  To their right, a few of the handlers from the arena had gathered. Tendau noticed that the ones who hadn’t won had moved on from commiserating about their losses to discussing some of the latest gear that was available to them. The topics ranged from reinforced gloves to m
ore specific tools used for training and animal enrichment. He was half paying attention to their discussions in case they had some interesting insights into their animals. He valued all perspectives, even those that were obviously skewed.

  “It can’t be done,” one of the handlers said. “You can’t tame those bats.”

  “Aw, you just haven’t tried hard enough,” her companion joked.

  The Zabrak who had made the initial claim slowly pulled off her left glove. She slammed her elbow down on the table and waved her left hand in the air. Tendau could see she was missing two fingers.

  “Believe me,” she said, “I’ve tried.”

  Her companion lost some of his haughty air and lowered his eyes.

  “Borgles are more than mean,” she continued. “It’s like they’re evil right down to their core. Maybe because of all the time they spend in their caves, in the dark.”

  “Are they native to Rori?” her chastised friend asked, and Tendau saw that he was treating her with slightly more respect since she had revealed her compromised hand.

  “Don’t know,” Fingers replied. “There’s so much speculation about Naboo’s moon in general, I don’t know if anybody knows the straight answer.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked her.

  “Well, I’m no historian,” she began, “but I don’t think folks can even agree on who colonized Rori, let alone what is and isn’t indigenous to the place. As I understand it, some say the original human colonists of Naboo landed there first, hated it because it was too inhospitable, and then came here. Others say that a group of spice miners went there first in search of the mother lode. Nobody can agree.”

  “Actually,” her friend said, “I heard that it was Gungans who first built a settlement there.”

  “See what I mean?” Fingers agreed. “No one has the same story.”

  “I heard it was the spice miner theory,” Dusque whispered to Tendau. The Ithorian cast a surprised glance at her, unaware that she had been paying attention so closely. But when he saw the way she regarded Fingers, he realized Dusque was becoming intrigued by the thought of an animal that couldn’t be trained.