Finn managed to find one of the flight chairs and cut the straps free with a knife he had tucked up his sleeve. When he had freed two of them, he stumbled back over to Dusque. She sat upright and raised her arms out to her side. The pain in that simple movement was excruciating, and she realized that she looked like Tendau had in his final moments, arms spread.
“Do it,” she told him.
He nodded to her once and placed the first restraint around her chest. As soon as he had the free end threaded through the buckle, he began to tighten it. Dusque groaned with the discomfort.
“More,” was all she managed to say.
He exhaled heavily and cinched the strap tighter. Dusque bit back on a moan and then breathed a little easier.
“Do the other one,” she told him.
As he applied the second makeshift brace, she leaned against him with her outstretched hand. “How did the pilot die?” she asked, to take her mind off the pain.
Finn was silent as he tightened the second brace. “We took a hit in the cockpit,” he finally said. “He didn’t make it.”
Dusque hazily thought that he seemed to be hiding something. She wondered if he had somehow made a mistake and that had been the reason for the pilot’s death. And if his abilities with a ship were not what he had said they were, what else, she wondered briefly, might he have lied to her about? She dismissed the thoughts as soon as he looked up at her through his tousled hair. She realized that she didn’t care about herself or anything else at that moment; she was just glad he was alive.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said shakily. He touched her face. “I thought …”
“I did, too,” she answered him and managed a smile through her discomfort. She placed her hand across the straps and breathed in experimentally. “It’ll do,” she pronounced.
Finn helped her up. “Grab what you can,” he told her. The water had reached the main cabin. “We’ve got to move.”
She eased herself off the table and found that the straps were holding: there was much less discomfort the more she moved around. She found her small pack and strapped it to her back. She wasn’t able to find her sword, but the blaster was poking out from under some circuitry. She wound the holster around her hips and even found an armband of ammo floating past her feet. She noticed, as she ducked below hanging wires and jagged metal, that there was little else that was salvageable.
Finn was near the back hatch. He was squatting in the water, and Dusque realized that he was placing charges around the door. The door lock must have been jammed, she deduced. She slogged through the nearly waist-deep water to stand beside him.
“Now what?” she asked.
He placed the last charge and turned to look at her. He had a worried expression on his face.
“I’ll manage,” she replied to his unasked question.
“I’m going to have to blow the door. I’ve got charges placed in the cockpit, as well. I’m going to blow that first,” he explained, “and then the door. As soon as I do, the seawater is going to rush in behind us first, and as the air escapes, hopefully it will push us out the hatch.”
Dusque nodded. “As soon as we get out,” she told him, “and you can open your eyes, let out a little air. Your bubbles are going to head to the surface, so follow them.”
He nodded in return. “Grab on to something, okay?”
She wrapped her arm around a metal beam. “Okay,” she told him, and started to take several quick breaths to blow all the carbon dioxide out of her lungs. Then in one big breath she filled her wounded chest with as much air as she could possibly hold. She saw Finn do the same. He locked eyes with her and held out a detonating switch. He pressed down on one switch and then the other. Twin explosions rocked the doomed vessel, and Dusque found herself thrust out into the depths of the Corellian ocean. Once again, she was lost in the darkness.
NINE
Dusque was being buffeted around. She shut her eyes tightly, but could do nothing about the cold water that immediately filled her nostrils. One thing she had neglected to tell Finn was that she was absolutely terrified of deep water. And she was in the grip of that fear now. It took all that she had not to scream, though she knew it would do no good. When she finally built up enough courage, she opened her eyes.
She was swirling and tumbling about, unable to tell what was what. The water around her was frothy from the plane wreckage, and Dusque felt panic start to build within her. She momentarily forgot her advice to Finn, finding it impossible to tell where any of the bubbles were heading. Through blind luck, she managed to see the remains of the shuttle. She fixed her frightened gaze on it and realized that it was getting smaller the longer she looked at it. Her scientific mind kicked in and overrode the fear.
Of course, she scolded herself, gravity has taken hold of it and it’s sinking. If it’s going that way, then I’m headed the other.
Without another thought, she kicked up as hard as she could. Though she feared the ocean, she was able to swim. Drowning was a great motivator and teacher.
Remembering what she had told Finn, she let a little of her precious air escape from her mouth and saw the tiny stream of bubbles move past her eyes. That told her that she was headed in the right direction. She swung her arms down in great passes and kicked as hard as she could. But the burning in her chest let her know that she didn’t have much time.
The combination of her injuries and her fear caught up with her. She let out a bellow, and giant bubbles exploded from her mouth in an underwater scream. She saw strong foam no more than a few meters directly above her. With a final thrust of her arms, and spots winking in and out of her vision, Dusque broke the surface.
Her ragged gasp for air sucked in some salt water, and she started to hack and wheeze. She retained enough presence of mind to tread water, and now that she was breathing in air, her fear started to recede. It was still there, but it was no longer overwhelming. When she finally cleared her sore chest, she started to swim in ever-widening circles, calling for Finn.
“Over here,” she heard, and she turned about wildly, searching for the source of the voice, praying it was Finn.
Eventually, she spotted his head bobbing in the surf some ten meters away. Beyond him, she could see something almost equally gratifying: a shore. She started her clumsy strokes over to where Finn was, pausing frequently to get her bearings and catch her breath. Her fear may have receded, but it wasn’t that far in the distance. Between her sore ribs and clumsy strokes, she was a pathetic sight.
“Thank the Force,” Finn said and Dusque thought it almost sounded like a benediction from his lips. “I thought I’d lost you again.”
“N-no,” Dusque sputtered. She found it difficult to swim and talk too much.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Kicking furiously to stay afloat, Dusque answered, “I will be once we’re on shore.”
Finn scrutinized her and she could see he realized that she was close to panicking. “We’re close now,” he told her encouragingly. “Follow me.”
Dusque struggled along behind Finn, and she was certain he had slowed his pace considerably to accommodate her poor form. He asked only once if she needed help, and when she refused, he didn’t ask again. But she saw him turn his head back frequently to make sure she was following. Even though the shore wasn’t far off, he veered toward a clump of large rocks, and she knew he was doing that for her sake so she wouldn’t have to ask for help. She felt the now familiar mix of exasperation and pleasure over his actions.
He was slightly ahead of her and called back, “Let’s climb out on those rocks and catch our breath, okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” Dusque agreed, holding her mouth shut against the water. As they neared the outcropping, the water broke against the coral flats and grew choppy because of it. She could see that even Finn was being buffeted around by the force of it. But he still worried about her, not himself.
“There are some reeds or something here that you can grab hold of,
” he called to her, and started to swim in the direction of the vegetation he had seen. Even though she was nearly exhausted, something in what Finn said didn’t make sense. There shouldn’t have been any reeds or the like growing in the surf. It took her muddled mind a moment to realize what it was he had seen.
Finn was about to reach for one of the two stalky reeds when Dusque screamed out. He turned back toward her and didn’t see those two stalks raise themselves out of the water and hold themselves above his head menacingly.
Realizing that swimming to him was out of the question, Dusque reached for the blaster she hoped was still in its holster. It was. She pulled the blaster free and flipped the safety like Finn had shown her on the shuttle. “Down!” she screamed at him.
She released a volley of blasts in the general direction of the arachnid creature. More by luck than skill, a few of those blasts caught the monster dead-on, and it crumpled back into the water. She didn’t know who was more surprised by her shooting: her or Finn. She held the blaster tightly in her fist, afraid to try to holster it while the waves knocked her around. She swam awkwardly over to Finn, growing more tired by the second.
When she reached his side, she gasped, “Maybe we can stop here for just a moment or two?”
Finn smiled broadly. “For you, we can even stop for three. Is it safe, though?”
Dusque wasn’t too tired to realize that he was asking her for her evaluation of the situation, even though she was floundering and sputtering like a child.
“L-looks clear,” she gasped, and watched as Finn pulled himself up onto the rocks, carefully avoiding the dead spider creature. He braced himself and pulled Dusque from the water. She gasped at the pain in her side, but she didn’t care. She was overwhelmed with relief to be out of the water. For a few seconds, they both sat there, gasping and shivering. Just as Finn was about to say something, the creature sprang to life and shot toward them.
Before Dusque could let loose with another round of laserfire, Finn unsheathed his knife and drove it into the creature’s back. It fell flat in a chattering heap, all of its many limbs splayed out. And from where Finn had stabbed the thing, black ooze started to pool. He reached for his knife, but Dusque caught his forearm.
“Watch out,” she warned him. “That black ink is venomous.”
Finn carefully extricated his weapon and cleaned it off with a piece of his torn tunic. He inserted the sharp blade back under his sleeve and Dusque figured out that he must have some kind of mechanism under there to release the blade when triggered.
“It was probably dead when it skittered over here,” she told him after she had caught her breath. “Just a reflex action.”
Finn regarded the meter-long arachnid with some disgust. “Just what was that thing?” he asked her.
“A dalyrake,” Dusque explained. “They’re more common on Talus than Corellia, but, as you can see, they can be found here, as well.”
“And that black stuff is toxic?” he asked. Dusque would’ve laughed if her side didn’t ache so. When he asked the question, he looked for the entire world like a little boy both disgusted and fascinated by a creepy-crawly.
“Yes,” she answered with a smile. “They can live on land or in the water indefinitely. What they do quite often is find a solid perch near water and dangle in their front two arms as lures. They wait for some unsuspecting fish to swim by and spear it with their venomous talons.” She smiled more broadly, wondering if he grasped the implication of the explanation.
“So what you’re telling me is that I was nearly killed by something that hunts fish …” He trailed away.
The corner of her lip twitched in amusement. “That’s right, Finn,” she said, emphasizing his name.
He looked at her and said, “Isn’t that ironic?”
The next thing she knew was they were both lying on their backs, laughing at the absurdity that a man named after a part of a fish had almost been killed by something that frequently preyed on them.
“O-ow,” she said, gripping her side and sitting back up, composing herself after the much-needed release of tension.
“Let’s get to shore and get you some medical attention,” he told her. “It’s not too far now.”
The idea of reentering the water sobered Dusque up. She scanned the shore and tried to estimate how much farther it was until she would be on dry land. Only about fifteen meters or so, she thought. I can do it.
“Yes, you can,” Finn told her as if he had read her thoughts.
“You’re right,” she said in return. “I can.”
Finn slid into the water and Dusque followed him in more slowly, favoring her injured side. The water felt colder after their time on the rocks, but Dusque steeled herself, knowing they would soon be back on land. Glancing ahead to the beach, she thought she saw something glint bronze in the setting sun. She saw that Finn noticed it, too; he seemed wary as he swam ahead of her. As soon as he was able to, he stood up and waded partially to shore. Then he stopped and waved, and Dusque realized that the bronze glint she had seen was a metallic figure, who responded to Finn’s wave with a salute.
As Finn turned and waded back in to help her out, Dusque asked, “Someone you know?”
“Droid that works closely with someone I work for,” was all he said as he helped her from the water.
Seeing that the droid was a protocol unit, she sighed inwardly.
“Hello, there,” he introduced himself. “I am See-Threepio, human–cyborg relations specialist.” And he even managed a half bow.
“How did you find us?” Finn asked as he guided Dusque up the shore.
“We tracked your descent,” the droid explained, “and I was sent out here just in case.”
“In case one or both of us survived?” Finn said wryly. He cocked his head toward Dusque. “We need to get her to a medcenter.”
“I’ll be fine,” she told him, eager to get away from the water.
“There are several competent Too-Onebees where we are going,” C-3PO assured them, “if you can wait. It would be better that way, if possible, but it is a long walk from here and some parts are quite steep.”
“I’ll manage,” she assured Finn, almost ignoring the droid completely.
“All right, but we’ll take it slow,” he finally agreed. He put his arm lightly around her waist, and Dusque didn’t mind the support.
As she and Finn walked up the beach together, C-3PO led the way.
“Oh, dear, I hate sand. It always lodges in my gears.” He turned and looked at Finn. “Did I ever tell you about the time on Tatooine when I …”
He droned on and on but Finn and Dusque hardly noticed a word he said.
The walk to their final destination was long and difficult. Several times, Dusque had to readjust the tension on the makeshift bandages around her rib cage. But she didn’t slow down, and they made fairly good time.
It was not the first time that she had been on Corellia, but Dusque had never been to the area they were hiking through. As best as she could estimate, they had crashed fairly close to Tyrena. C-3PO seemed to be leading them northwest, up into the hills and mountains, but when she asked Finn just how far they had to go, he surprised her with his answer.
“I have no idea,” he told her.
“Haven’t you been to this camp before?”
“I haven’t been to that many, and this one is a closely guarded secret because of who’s there right now,” he explained.
“Doesn’t it get frustrating?” Dusque asked. “All the secrecy … How is it different from the tactics the Empire uses?”
Finn studied her closely for a moment, and Dusque wondered if she had offended him. However, she was too sore and too tired to try to defend herself, so she just breathed in the soothing forest air and waited for him to reply.
“You’re right,” Finn said after a long pause. “Many of the tactics are the same. That’s the danger in all of this,” he continued more softly. “You have to keep your motives true, or you co
uld find yourself on the other side with no idea how it happened.”
Dusque wasn’t sure what to say to that. She and Finn continued on without speaking. C-3PO was a different matter: Oblivious to whether anyone was listening to him, he rambled on and on about the difficulties he faced in his day-to-day operations. The only time he was silent was when Dusque spotted a pack of canids between a few of the tall trees and hissed at him to be quiet.
“Unless you want to be trampled by those rooting pigs, shut up,” she whispered urgently.
Finn flashed her a winning smile and they passed the animals in the brush without incident. For the remainder of the hike, C-3PO stewed in what seemed to be offended silence. Dusque was not put out by it in the least.
As they trotted down the incline of yet another hill, Dusque saw a small collection of stone structures, all very flat and probably no more than one level above ground. From the look of the place and Finn’s earlier comments, she got the impression that the camp was temporary, which made sense, since the Rebels never knew when they’d have to flee suddenly. Still, there were several fortifications, and she could see sentries patrolling about.
They were greeted by a soldier who recognized C-3PO and waved them in. He looked very young to Dusque, but what surprised her more than his age was the fact that he seemed genuinely glad to see that they had arrived safely, strangers he had never met before but who shared his dreams. Dusque nodded to him, and he gave her a smile and a quick salute before sobering and resuming his duties of scanning their surroundings, his weapon at the ready.
They headed down a stone walkway and entered one of the largest edifices in the compound. The place was teeming with Rebel soldiers, but few spared the newcomers more than a cursory glance. Dusque assumed that this was because they had obviously been cleared by security. She watched as C-3PO walked over to a compact command center, where he was accosted by a small R2 unit. The little white-and-blue domed droid beeped and chirped excitedly at C-3PO.
C-3PO grew more animated. “Yes,” he told the little droid excitedly, “it was extremely dangerous, but I managed to maneuver them through it and arrive here safely.”
The Ruins of Dantooine Page 13
