Star Wars: Fragile Threads

Fragile Threads

As subsequent explosions rocked the stronghold, Drake and Tiaja emerged from the mouth of the cave as the tunnel collapsed behind them. Sitting at the top of the steep slope, the Steadfast was a welcomed sight. Emergency and landing lights on full to cancel out the darkness, the YT-1300's main cannons were powered up and set on auto, waiting for a target to come within range.

Cradling a T-21 rifle in his arms, Densin came down the ramp. "Anybody need a lift?"

A seismic tremor shook the ground, and with an explosion of rock, a dark, gigantic figure burst through the cascade of fallen debris at the entrance of the cave. Fearing the spiders had found a way through, Drake turned his blaster on the massive shadow loping from the stony tomb.

"Belia!" Jani shouted. "Uncle Geerd!"

Carrying, a wide-eyed and frightened Geerd over its shoulder, the rancor calf cantered up the slope on all fours and bellowed a challenge into the night.

"I knew you couldn't be dead!" Jani jumped down from Nikaede's embrace and leaped into the rancor's arms. "And you saved my Uncle Geerd. Good girl!"

"Now that's something you don't see everyday," Densin said, propping the T-21 over his shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but may I suggest a hasty retreat?"

"Nik, open the cargo bay doors," Drake said, retreating up the ramp to the cockpit. He stared at the rancor and the little girl riding it. "I hope that thing's housebroken."

~ ~ ~

Within the safety of the Trade Outpost security fence, Geerd gritted his teeth and groaned. Nikaede stabilized his broken arm and placed it in a sling. Standing at the foot of the Steadfast's ramp, Drake kept vigil over his first mate, while warily observing a crowd of Nightsisters from the Singing Mountain Clan gathered outside the gate. A dozen, heavily armed guards held the perimeter, keeping them from coming into the compound.

The fifty armed warriors were enough to make them nervous, but the juvenile rancor running back and forth across the only road into the outpost did not help. Jani giggled, running in between the creature's massive legs as it gently tried to herd her.

"Corellian Ole Rye Whiskey," Densin said, handing Geerd a silver flask. "I think you need this more than I do. Won't kill the pain, but after a few sips you won't care about it anymore."

"Thank you." Geerd drank from the flask, grimacing at the numbing sensation that followed. "That rancor saved my life. Broke my fall. When the first charge went off, it jumped up, grabbed me, and started running. With those spiders right on its heels." He wiped a bloody hand across his forehead. "I'll never be able to look at a rancor and feel the same way again."

"Most of the creatures on this planet are acidic or venomous," Densin said, tilting his head and shrugging. "I imagine the rancor have developed certain immunities. Still, the poison must have paralyzed it temporarily."

Drake tried to take his mind off of Tiaja, who was standing outside the gates, surrounded by members of the Singing Mountain Clan and a dozen full-grown rancors a few meters away.

"Did you know the word belia means beautiful in Old Corellian?" Densin asked. "If you can afford to feed the beast, she might make a good first mate."

"Nice try, Densin." Drake chuckled. "But I already have a first mate, and no, you can't have her."

"Worth a try." The Corellian offered his hand. "This has been an unexpected pleasure, Little Prince."

Drake withdrew his hand, staring at the credit chit Densin had slipped him. The same chit he had given the smuggler to pay for the explosives. "You working for free these days?"

"Depends on the customer. I've learned my lesson—some things are more important than profit." He glanced at Jani playing with the rancor calf. "Clear skies, Drake. Farewell, Nikaede. Remember, if you ever want to serve under a real captain, you know how to find me."

The Wookiee waved a cursory farewell, following behind the medical techs as they transported Geerd to the outpost infirmary.

Working his way through the line of guards, Drake stepped through the security checkpoint to find Tiaja. Before he could get two steps beyond the gate, he was swept into Belia's arms. As Jani sang a lullaby from the creature's neck, the rancor rocked him from side to side.

"Jani!" Tiaja shouted, trying to keep her composure among the Nightsisters, "please have Belia put Drake down. And stop teaching her bad habits. If we're going to live in peace with the Traders in the outpost, we can't have rancor scooping people up and hugging them."

"Yes, big sister."

The rancor put Drake gently back down on the ground and then loped to the crowd of Nightsisters and their mature mounts. The elder rancors greeted the juvenile with throaty bellows that reverberated in the night. Their handlers stood beside them, waiting expectantly.

Tiaja walked away from them, but the closer she came to him, the farther she seemed to be. Drake put his hands on his hips and stared at the ground. "I've seen that look before," he said, "usually when my father was going on a long job and had no intention of taking me with him."

Tiaja anxiously patted her thighs, pretending to adjust her war skirts. "The Nightspider Clan is in disarray, and the Singing Mountain Clan intends to keep it that way. I want to help them. This is my home, Drake. I belong here."

Swallowing his disappointment, he replied, "I understand."

Looking into his eyes, Tiaja cupped his face in her hands. "This galaxy is held together by the most fragile of threads. Severing one risks breaking others. But there are some bonds that can never be cut." She kissed him, brushing her lips against his for a prolonged moment. "I know..." she whispered, running her hand through his curls one last time. "Socorrans aren't very good with good byes." Caressing his cheek, she turned and walked away.

The sun was coming up over the hills, turning the night skies purple, then lavender. Heartbroken, Drake stared at the horizon until it grew blurry. Returning from the infirmary, Nikaede stood by him. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, requesting his orders.

"Feeling a little homesick, partner," he replied to her question. "Set a course for Socorro."