The Ruins of Dantooine Read Online Free PDF

were herbivores, content to spend their waking hours chewing thousands of leaves every day, blissfully oblivious to their surroundings. This malkloc, however, had been trained to respond to her handler’s commands, as had all the other specimens that performed in the arena. She had crushed every one of her opponents under her tremendous feet. But her feet would not help her against her final opponent.
    On the other side of the arena, a Trandoshan female was bringing out her prized creature. It was one of the largest flit harassers Dusque had ever seen. Indigenous to Lok, the creatures had a tough, leathery hide, an incredibly sharp beak, and a wingspan that was usually greater than the height of a large Wookiee. Very few living things could face down one of these reptavians.
    “The only chance the malkloc has,” Tendau whispered to Dusque, “is the fact that the flit has a damaged wing from its tussle with the dire cat in the previous round.” He pointed out the injury with his long silvery arm.
    “And the fact that they normally hunt in swarms,” Dusque added. She saw the Ithorian nod in agreement but look away as the signal was given for theanimals to attack. She knew he was just as sickened as she was by the bloody scenario in front of her. Travesties such as this were not the reason either of them had become biologists.
    The match ended fairly quickly. The malkloc made her charge and miscalculated. The moment she unsuccessfully thundered past the flit, the reptavian swooped awkwardly around the massive beast and landed on the malkloc’s back. It dug its claws into the tough hide of the herbivore and raised its beak high above. When it was certain it had a solid grip, the flit dropped its head and buried its beak deep into the malkloc’s neck. And then it began to feed.
    Dusque turned away, having no desire to watch the bloodsucker at work. Almost unconsciously, she looked back in the direction of the human male who had been watching her—and found that he was still watching her, just as he had been earlier. She met his gaze and held it for a few moments until he did something unexpected. He winked at her.
    Dusque was at a loss. She knew she should have been offended, or should ignore him at the very least, but she didn’t know how to respond. Almost against her will she could feel the color rise in her face. But before she could say or do anything, a sudden thud shook the stands and she whirled back around to face the arena.
    The malkloc had finally fallen to the ground. The flit’s handler trotted out from the sidelines and tried to pull the bloody victor from its prize even as heaccepted his credits as the evening’s grand-prize winner.
    When Dusque collected her thoughts, she turned back toward her admirer, but he was gone. She scanned the crowd quickly: he was nowhere to be seen. The Ithorian noticed she was distressed and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her flushed appearance couldn’t be missed, either. He asked, “Are you all right?”
    Dusque took a moment before she replied, “I’m not sure.”

TWO
    The moment the official winner was announced, a cry went up from the masses. Almost as one, the spectators turned and made for the casino entrance as quickly as they could, and Dusque was certain it was with the gleam of free credits dancing before their eyes. A few of the slower members of the throng squawked in surprise and pain as they were shoved aside and stepped on by the more assertive guests. But she saw that even the slow recovered and tried to push their way through.
    Dusque collected her materials and picked up her small pack. She grabbed the railing and easily swung her legs over the side. She looked back over her shoulder and told the Ithorian, “I’m just going to collect a few samples. Won’t be but a few moments.” She knew Tendau would probably become ill if he had to walk through the blood-spattered arena. She wasn’t thrilled by the prospect either, but she knew she wouldn’t