He struck one, and the two corsairs chuckled between themselves. He took aim again, squinting along the sight, and continued to fire. That prompted his companion to draw his weapon, as well, and try to best him. Dusque figured she and Finn had only a few moments. She motioned to Finn and the pirates. He looked surprised until she reached for her backpack. He grinned crookedly and gave her one sharp nod. He took aim and waited for Dusque. She shook her sack twice and flung the enraged contents as the two corsairs continued firing.
The spined snake shot out of the opened trap and sunk his fangs into the Nikto closer to the tent. The pirate screamed in rage as the venomous reptile attached itself to his cheek. The Nikto tried vainly to pull the creature free of his face, but the viper coiled its body around his waist and resisted all attempts to dislodge it. The corsair’s screams of rage attracted the attention of his companion, who had been too busy picking off snorbals to notice the other’s predicament. The unbitten pirate lowered his blaster as he started to turn around, a vaguely perplexed look on his smooth face. Finn seized the opportunity and started blasting.
The unbitten Nikto tried to bring up his weapon and return the unexpected fire, but Finn’s aim was dead straight. The shot caught the pirate across the chest and the force of the blow spun him around. He was dead before he hit the ground. Finn moved forward to finish the second, but stopped when he saw that the pirate was mortally wounded. The stricken Nikto fell to his knees and then landed face-first on the parched ground. His death was fast but not easy as the viper’s venom paralyzed all of his autonomic functions. Dusque moved up and watched the life begin to drain from his face. The viper slithered off and disappeared into the cold darkness, once more in search of a warm den.
While Dusque knelt down near the Corsair she had effectively killed, Finn trotted over to the small structure near the tent. By the firelight, he recognized it as a locked container.
“They must have been guarding the cargo, waiting for someone to pick it up. The map’s got to be in here,” he told her. “It won’t take me long to slice the lock.” Dusque nodded in agreement.
While Finn set to work on the electronic code, Dusque watched the bitten pirate slowly expire as his breathing and his heart stopped. She had mixed feelings about her part in all of it. She knew that, given the chance, they would have killed her, but the reason she was out here was her own doing. She tried to balance her need for revenge with taking the life of someone who wasn’t really part of the Empire or the Rebellion. But before she could debate the morality of her actions any further, she was grabbed forcibly from behind and thrown to the hard ground, stunned.
Something pressed hard into the small of her back—she guessed it was her attacker’s knee. He was mumbling drunkenly as he stripped her of her weapons. Then the weight lifted, and when she turned her head, she could see him stumbling away, shaking his head as if he were trying to clear his thoughts. Finn obviously hadn’t heard the third corsair’s arrival. He must have cracked the code, because the large container was now wide open. Only his lower legs and his boots were visible as he rummaged through the illicit goods. Dusque didn’t have enough air in her lungs to call out a warning to him.
The quickly sobering Nikto staggered over, yanked Finn by the ankles, and dragged him free of the container. Startled, Finn didn’t have time to reach his blaster before the Corsair pinned his arms under his heavy legs so he could keep his own arms free. As he straddled Finn, the pirate began to punch him repeatedly in the head. Dusque, all but forgotten by the enraged Nikto, pushed herself to her feet. She stumbled over to where the pirate sat, locked in a struggle with Finn.
She may have been unarmed, but Dusque was not without her resources. Hardly thinking, she threw herself at the pirate’s back and fastened onto him tightly. The Nikto barely slowed his assault on Finn, even though he now had two to contend with. But he didn’t realize what Dusque knew.
As a bioengineer, she was aware of his biology and his one weakness. Enduring a stabbing blow to her ribs from the corsair’s elbow, Dusque managed to clamp her hands on his two breathing tubes and refused to let go. It took a moment for the enraged Nikto to realize what she was doing to him, and by the time he did, the lack of air was already taking its toll. He slowed his assault on Finn and turned his waning attention onto Dusque.
Rising to his feet, he stepped over the inert Finn and swung his own body into the metal container. Dusque winced in pain as her back smashed into the cold steel, but she didn’t loosen her grip. The pirate whirled about and reached back, clawing his hands across Dusque’s face and arms. With one last burst of strength, the air-deprived Nikto got hold of her forearms and managed to pry them free of his breathing tubes. Keeping his grip on her arms, he swung her over his head and slammed her to the ground in front of him. Blinking hard, Dusque looked up and saw him raise his arms over his head, locking his hands together into one fist. But before he could deliver what would surely have been a deathblow, his head suddenly turned to an awkward angle with a strange pop. His arms fell limply to their sides, and he toppled over to her right to lie in an unmoving heap. Dazed from his attack, Dusque couldn’t quite process what was happening.
Suddenly a bruised Finn filled her vision. She watched as he moved the pirate completely off her and knelt next to her. He put his hands under her arms and raised her to a half-sitting position. While Dusque shook her head, she could feel Finn’s hands run up and down the length of her. She winced when he touched her back, and the bright stab of pain sharpened her focus.
“Hurts?” he asked her.
“A little bit. Not so bad, though,” she replied, and tried to flex her shoulders and stretch her spine somewhat. She looked at him through the tangled mass of her hair and saw the beginnings of a bruise flowering across his left eye, but otherwise he appeared no worse for the wear.
He looked at her with some concern. “Really?” he asked again.
She shakily rose to her feet unaided. “I’ll be fine. What about you?” Tentatively she touched his swollen cheekbone. He flinched, jerked his head back, and caught her fingers lightly with one hand.
“I’ve been better,” he admitted and then flashed her a roguish grin. “But I’ve been a whole lot worse, too.” He looked at her through his own tousled hair, and somewhere Dusque managed to find a smile.
“Did you get the map?” she asked, feeling uncomfortable again and wanting to say something to break the strange mood between them.
“I was about to,” he told her. He hooked a thumb at the dead Nikto. “Until Handsome interrupted me.” He led Dusque around the slain pirate and added, “That was very quick thinking on your part, especially considering how much bigger he was than you.”
He turned his attention back to the container and didn’t see the rosy flush stain her cheeks. His words carried a great deal of weight with Dusque. It was the first time a man other than Tendau had ever given her any praise for her abilities in the field. She became even more flustered and busied herself by craning over Finn’s shoulder to see what was in the storage unit.
Bits of metal and gemstone winked out at her in the moonlight. She could see blasters and other, more exotic weapons, as well as a cache of documents and credits. Finn tossed out a few datapads and other bits and pieces, mostly weapon powerups and the like.
“I found some datachips,” he called out to her. “Need to check ’em with my datapad.” After a few moments, he said, “Got it. It’s the only one of the bunch that’s a map. It better be the right one,” he continued.
He emerged with a datachip clenched tightly in his hand. Dusque returned his smile and was momentarily surprised when he handed it to her to carry. “I can’t wait to see the look on Nym’s face when you give it to him,” he explained. She accepted the treasure and placed it in her small sack. She also recovered her sword and her mesh trap. She hated to waste anything or leave anything behind. The last thing she did was toss handfuls of dirt onto the dead pirates’ fire. She kicked at the embers and gro
und them under her boot soles. When she was done, she turned and saw that Finn was watching her.
“We have Nym’s prize, so let’s go collect our reward,” he told her.
They walked down the plateau, and Dusque sensed that Finn was keeping a slow pace in deference to her injuries. While she was hurt, she noticed that the more she moved, the more she limbered up. She appreciated his concern and was also glad that when she appeared to be able to handle more, he increased their rate accordingly.
Except for the cries of a few perleks out scavenging, they saw nothing else on their return trip. The sky was clear and another moon rose in the distance. Or is it a planet? Dusque wondered. Tendau had always been better at celestial geography than she was.
Nym’s stronghold loomed up in the distance like a grave marker. Dusque wondered how many the Feeorin had buried in his career. She nearly jumped out of her skin as a gurk came screaming toward her, howling and arms raised. She drew her sword, but lowered it when she realized the hairy humanoid was only a whelp, the most threatening thing about him his screams. Finn had already turned to see what was wrong, his hand reaching for his blaster, so Dusque signaled that everything was fine as she trotted past the youngster. She didn’t sheathe her weapon, however, until she was well inside the stone wall surrounding the stronghold.
Even though it was the dead of night, they encountered a lot of traffic. If anything, Dusque thought, there were even more hunting parties arriving and leaving than they had seen earlier. Groups of well-armed and eager killers continued to gear up and head out, even though others were returning bloodied and wounded and unsuccessful. She remembered how she had felt during her own trials, and how exhilarating it was to challenge her mind and body’s endurance. Perhaps, she mused, it’s that challenge that drives them to test themselves. She noticed the remains of the group that had accosted her and Finn on their arrival on Lok. The leader who had made advanced to her was very obviously missing. Dusque shuddered and jogged to catch up with Finn.
The cantina was a hive of activity. The rest of the Bith band had arrived, and the place was alive with chatter and music. An incredible variety of species was packed into the large room, and Dusque and Finn had a little difficulty threading their way through the jocular crowd. Dusque noticed, though, that there was an almost frantic air to the festivities, as though the revelers knew that this might be their last celebration before whatever fate had in store for them in the harsh and unforgiving terrain of the volcanic world.
They managed to squeeze their way past a pair of rambunctious Wookiees and wind their way back to the concealed room where they had found Nym before. As he had been in the morning, the pirate was seated on the naturally hewn-out seat, his kusak curled up by his feet. This time, though, he was not alone. Seated next to him was a human male, and opposite them both was a very tall Wookiee.
The human and Nym were obviously in the throes of a heated discussion—a very private one. They stopped arguing when Dusque and Finn entered the room, and Dusque sensed that some agreement had been reached between them. The human stood up and glanced at Dusque with a cursory, appraising eye, then turned back to Nym.
He looked tall, but Dusque had a hard time judging his height accurately because the leanly muscular man stood somewhat slouched, a posture that gave him a lackadaisical air. She suspected he did that to lull others into a false sense of security. With brown hair and eyes to match, he was handsome by human standards, if a bit scruffy around the edges, maybe thirty standard years old. He was dressed in casual pilot’s garb, but Dusque’s eyes grew wide when she saw he had the Corellian Bloodstripe running down the length of his black pants. That was an honor few earned.
“Finn,” Nym began, breaking off his discussion with the other man, “You’ve got the map?” His red eyes flicked over to Dusque. Without any preamble, Dusque brushed past the human and laid the map down on the table. Nym cocked his head in acknowledgment of their accomplishments and tucked the map, unopened, into his tunic. Dusque wasn’t sure if he did that to show his trust in their honesty or if he simply did not want the strange human and the Wookiee to view its contents.
“Good. Now, about my end of the deal,” the pirate lord continued. “There’s a small transport waiting for you in my starport. You’ll be flyin’ with a Mon Cal, but Han and Chewie here are gonna escort you all the way to Corellia. Seems you run in the same circles,” he added slyly.
Han nodded in salute to Finn, while winking at Dusque. The Wookiee howled a salutation to them, as well, before rising to his full, towering height. Han turned his attention back to Nym and his demeanor grew serious.
“Listen, Nym,” he began, speaking freely now, “there’s still a lot of credits to be made working for the Alliance. We could use your help, and I can arrange for high-risk, high-paying jobs.”
The pirate shook his head. “We’ve gone over this, Solo, and you know where I stand.”
It was Han’s turn to shake his head in disappointment. “I know what you’re thinking,” he told Nym. “I was there once and you’re wrong. You think that no one’s gonna bother you, locked up here in your personal fort. Well, sooner or later the Empire will find you, and they will shut you down.” Dusque heard the genuine passion in his words, his casual demeanor forgotten for the moment.
Han looked at the pirate one more time before heading for the door. “Get your stuff. We’re leaving,” he tossed over his shoulder, businesslike, to Dusque and Finn, and left with the Wookiee trailing behind.
Dusque thought about his words and how closely the conversation mirrored the one she and Finn had shared. All around her, she was finding accomplished people who firmly believed in the Rebel Alliance. She was starting to wonder how she had avoided the whole conflict for so long, buried away in her lab as Nym was in his fortress. She was starting to see that both were just elaborate prisons of a sort.
“Finn,” Nym said, “you an’ me, we’re free of each other. Understand? Take the transport, but this is the last favor I do for you. Or the Alliance.”
Finn saluted him in return. “We are quit of our debts.” He turned and started out of the room.
“And good-bye to you,” Nym said, addressing Dusque with mock gallantry. “I hope our paths cross again.”
Dusque surprised both of them by winking at the pirate lord. “You never know. The galaxy is full of surprises. Oh—” she tapped her sword, “—I’m going to hang on to this. Something to remember you by.”
Dusque could still hear the Feeorin’s hearty laughter as she and Finn made their way toward the small starport. She didn’t know much about ships, but the small one in front of them seemed adequate enough. A Mon Calamari was standing near the landing gear.
“I hope he flies better than he looks,” Dusque whispered to Finn, eyeing the pilot’s mangy clothes and tarnished weapons with concern.
“Me, too,” Finn grinned. “But if Nym recommended him, he’ll be one of the best.”
When the Mon Calamari pilot saw them, he waved them aboard. “She’s no cruise liner, but she does what she has to. And with the Falcon flying escort, this trip should be a breeze,” he told them. Inside, Dusque and Finn found seats crammed among all sorts of cargo and junk. As they strapped in, Dusque could hear the Mon Calamari signal to Han.
“Peralli to Falcon. All cargo is secured. Ready for departure.”
“Copy that,” came the static-laced reply. Dusque wondered when the communications equipment on this ship had last seen maintenance. “Falcon out.”
“Hang on,” the Mon Calamari shouted back to them. “This is going to be a little rough.”
Dusque gripped the arms of her seat when the transport shuddered to life. As they left Lok for Corellia, Dusque looked at Finn and wondered what lay ahead.
EIGHT
“Now that we’ve jumped into hyperspace,” Peralli said, “you’ve got some time. Nym sent me a message. He said that you”—he pointed to Dusque—“can help yourself to that small crate over there. He wanted yo
u to have something a little more practical than that skinny gurnaset sticker to remember him by, whatever that means.” The Mon Calamari shrugged his shoulders and ambled back to the cockpit.
“Wonder what Nym’s got in mind for you,” Finn said. He unbuckled himself and maneuvered over to the small crate. Dusque did the same.
“Let’s open it up and find out,” she replied.
Finn grabbed a metal bar and pried the top loose. Inside the small crate was an impressive selection of blasters, all new and shiny. Dusque briefly recalled Tendau’s weapon and how there seemed to be something vaguely sinister about it, like unspoken betrayals.
“Not bad,” Finn murmured as he rummaged through the contents of the container. He pulled out various styles of blasters and checked their power supplies. Dusque was impressed with how comfortable he was with each type, easily disassembling them and reassembling them again after verifying their condition.
“What’ll it be?” he asked her when he was finished.
“Doesn’t really matter,” she confessed, “because I don’t know the differences between any of them.”
“You’ve never used one of these?” he asked her.
“Not in my line of work. Survival knives, some fencing, and hand-to-hand techniques are all I’ve ever practiced or used.” She lowered her head, afraid that she had disappointed him and that he must now have found her wanting.
He surprised her again. “Then we better rectify that while there’s time,” he said easily, without a hint of derision in his voice. “C’mere.”
The Ruins of Dantooine Page 11
