It's a Long Fall
Corso's fingers tapped out an alternating staccato beat with his boot heel as he leaned forward over the console staring fixedly out the windshield.
"If you don't stop that racket, I'm gonna shoot you in the foot," grumped Dester.
"Yeah, sorry, it's just taking longer than I expected."
"That won't get us there any faster, and it's never good to piss off the pilot."
"Ease up on the kid," said Largo as he eased himself into the co-pilot's seat and leveled his gaze on Corso. "Is that dirt on your forehead or a bruise?"
"I got a couple lumps during the crash, sore ribs and shoulder, slight headache, but I'll be fine."
"So, how'd you and Ky get into this fine mess?"
Corso remained silent for a few seconds but figured time might go by faster if he engaged in a little conversation. His nerves were already shot to hell so it couldn't hurt.
"Easy money usually comes at a cost. Ky should have listened to her gut and never gotten involved with that snake Sonhem."
"Ky should have listened to me when I warned her against ever dealing with that scum," chided Largo.
Frown lines creased Corso's brow. "Now's hardly the time for 'I told you so.' We've been operating on a thread for a while now. The rope offered always looks safe and secure when you're trying to climb up from the bottom."
"I thought the Voidhound still had Republic contracts and special immunity from prosecution."
A bitter laugh escaped Corso's lips. "A new broom sweeps clean, as they say. After Yavin 4, Saresh talked the newly elected Galactic Senate into rescinding a lot of its wartime contracts and cracked down, again, on privateers with a record. Ky made that list.
"Personally, I think it's delayed retribution for that cocked-up arms shipment way back on Port Nowhere. She's still in hot water with the Hutts over the spice and been black listed by all but a few. We're still dodging bounty hunters even though it's been more than three years."
"What about the Voidhound fleet?"
"Come on, Largo. You were part of that fleet for a while. We only hear from you and Rogun from time to time. The rest have pretty much gone their own way."
"She should have come to me. I have a couple of runs I could have subcontracted, and job leads coming in all the time."
"She'd never do that, and you know it. She'd rather starve in space than take a handout. The credits for this job were too good to pass up."
"Yeah, and look where that got her," Largo snorted.
"There's the ship!" Corso pointed out the windshield at the still smoking freighter and strode from the cockpit to pace by the hatch while the shuttle landed.
"Damned lucky the sand people haven't stumbled across it," Largo said as he opened the hatch and extended the ramp.
"Might want to rethink that, boss," said Dester, raising his arm to aim his index finger at a small group standing on the ridge high above the downed ship. The broken, yowling, cries of the Tusken echoed down to them.
"Shit," exclaimed Largo. "We'd best get to it."
Corso was already out the door and standing by the half-buried nose of the ship when the two spacers arrived. "We can't get to her any other way except through the windshield. I'll need your help, Dester."
"I'll stand guard," said Largo. "Don't think I'd be able to squeeze through that small space anyway."
Corso scampered up the nose of the ship followed closely by Dester. Both men crawled into the dim interior, Corso immediately moving to Ky's side. Her chin rested on her chest which didn't appear to be moving. He extended a trembling arm to check the pulse point in her neck and found it, weaker than before but still there. A thin smile touched Corso's lips when he realized she still clutched her blaster.
"She's cold," said Corso.
"Shock," stated Dester, removing a syringe from his med kit.
Corso grabbed his arm. "What's that?"
"Tranq and kolto cocktail," barked Dester as he yanked his arm free and injected the substance into the woman's neck. "I do have some med training, and if she comes to and struggles while we're hauling her out of here, she'll likely bleed to death before we can get her to a tank. Now, quit yapping and help me."
Together they removed her from the seat and managed to drag her over the console, through the window, down the nose of the ship and onto the ground below. Both men rested for a minute while Dester rechecked her vitals and then gave the nod that it was safe to move her to the shuttle where they secured her to a pull-down bunk.
"Can you give me five minutes? Is she stable enough?" asked Corso, unable to tear his eyes away from her pale face.
"The sand people have disappeared off that ridge, they'll be coming and soon," said Largo.
Dester was already on his way to the shuttle cockpit. "She's ok for five, but don't push it past that. What's so damned important anyway?"
"Need to get something and check the cargo," Corso said over his shoulder as he went back through the hatch.
He sprinted to the ship, hoisted himself through the cargo door, and went first to the quarters he and Ky shared. With no small amount of effort, he managed to push the door open. The bed sat nearly sideways, the one bracket still securing it to the wall bent to a ninety-degree angle, pillows lay strewn across the floor. Dresser drawers and closets, impacted by the crash, spewed their belongings into loose piles or hung open with clothes draped over the fronts and sides.
He searched for the duffels they kept in the bottom of the closet and found two which he quickly stuffed with as much clothing as possible. Ky's spare datapad leaned against the wall and he threw that in also before going to a section of the wall and kneeling down. Carefully prying one small panel loose, he reached inside and removed a tiny, purple box. Lifting the lid, he gazed inside. The ring winked at him in the dim light before he snapped the top closed and tucked it into his pocket. He took one last look around and headed back to the cargo bay.
Hewie, his vibrosword, and Sergeant Boom Boom still hung in their brackets on the wall. He removed both and used the stock of the rifle to break the lock on one of the cargo crates. Throwing the lid open, Corso found only sand and a few rocks.
"Sonofabitch," he swore and slammed the lid back down. No wonder Sonhem had his own men load the crates. If he and Ky had loaded them, they'd have known right away about the double cross and likely be dead.
Corso angrily snagged the duffel bags from the floor, grabbed the weapons and made his way to the exit. He jumped to the ground and headed for the shuttle which was fired up and waiting to take off.
"Hope what you went back for is important," yelled Dester from the cockpit. "Park your asses and strap in, we can't waste any more time."
Shots pinged off the hull as the shuttle lifted from the ground and Corso was thrown from the jump seat before he could fasten the belt. Dester opened up the throttle and the ship groaned and leaped forward into the arid, dusty air.
Ky moaned and Corso jumped to his feet to check on her and make sure she was still properly positioned so that the restraining straps didn't rub or bump the metal spike that still impaled her. Nothing could be done about the slight jostling and he was thankful that the tranquilizer hadn't worn off yet.
"How's she doing?" asked Largo who'd just walked in from the cockpit.
"She feels hot now and I don't like those bright spots on her cheeks," said Corso as he tenderly took her hand between his. Her skin was dry and heat radiated from her palm and fingers.
"What about the cargo? Anything important enough to go back and kick sand people ass over?"
"Sand and rocks," answered Corso, his voice tight and bitter.
"You know that bird's never gonna fly again, right?" said Largo. "It'll be cheaper to buy another one than try to fix that mangled heap of scrap. Nothing will be left anyway once the sand people get through scavenging."
"Yeah, I know but that's not important right now. We'll figure it out when she's back on her feet." Corso laid her hand back on the bunk and swiped his fingers across his mouth and chin before slumping down onto the jump seat he'd been so unceremoniously spilled from earlier.
He was suddenly bone tired but couldn't take his eyes away from the profile of her face or the barely discernible rise and fall of her chest. The metal piercing her skin winked obscenely at him as if it touched places in her he could never reach and knew secrets that only they shared. His hands itched to yank it free and be rid of its taunting but, he was as helpless in this as he'd been in most things.
"She looks bad, kid," said Largo, placing a beefy hand on Corso's shoulder. "You might want to prepare yourself—"
Corso shot a scathing glance at the large man. "Don't you say that; don't you even think it. She's the strongest woman I've ever met and she'll pull through this."
"Sure, kid, whatever you say," Largo let his hand fall to his side. "How much longer, Dester?" he yelled to the pilot.
"About another twenty minutes. If I push this thing any more, we'll all end up walking. Now leave me be and let me fly."
"I'd better comm the med center and have a stretcher waiting in the hangar," said Largo before leaving Corso to his own thoughts and misery.
The stretcher and two med techs were at the hangar when they set down. Ky was, thankfully, still unconscious when they loaded her into the enclosed speeder that served as transport and sped off toward the med center.
"I'll walk over there with you," said Largo, picking up one of the duffels and putting it in Corso's hand, he carried the other. Corso left the two weapons on the floor where they lay, he'd get them later.
The med center assaulted Corso's nose with the stringent smell of antiseptics and cleaning solutions. The sweet, cloying stench of anesthetics made his stomach roll. He and Largo strode over to the reception desk currently manned by a young blonde in a white lab coat.
"May I help you?" she asked dispassionately after putting down a datapad she'd been working on.
"A woman just brought in. Badly hurt, where is she?" Corso blurted out.
"And you are?" the woman asked suspiciously.
"Cut the shit, Annie," said Largo. "He's family, just answer the damned question."
"No need to be rude about it," she scolded. "She's being prepped for surgery now. That's all I know. Have a seat in the waiting area and someone will be with you as soon as there's any news."
"Come on," said Largo grabbing Corso's arm and dragging him to the other side of the lobby. "There's nothing to do now but wait. I'd offer for you to come back to my place for a shower and some food, but I know you won't leave."
Corso was numb by the time he sagged down onto the synthleather couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a second before hunching forward, balancing his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hands together between his knees. The duffel sat snug against his boot and there was something he should be doing, but he just couldn't figure out what.
"How long's it been since you slept?" asked Largo, easing himself down beside Corso.
"I don't know. Forty-eight hours, maybe more," mumbled Corso.
"You look like something my ack pup dragged in. Get some shut-eye, you won't be worth a shit to her or anybody else if you keep pushing yourself this way."
Corso reached back to scratch his neck, sweat and sand grit caked beneath his nails. "I probably smell like something your ack pup dragged in too, but you're right. There's not a damned thing I can do for her right now so I'm just gonna lean back and rest my eyes for a bit. You make sure that doctor wakes me up as soon she's out of surgery if I happen to doze off."
"Will do and I'm also going to post a couple of my guys out front, just in case. Sonhem won't be pleased when he finds out she's still alive."
Corso was gone as soon as his head hit the back of the couch, his mouth open and slack, his arms limp in his lap and his long legs sprawled out in front.
"Sweet dreams, kid," said Largo. "Enjoy the rest while you can cause you know all hell's gonna break loose as soon as she's up and about."