Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [83]
Then there were the river’s larger inhabitants. Far ahead and sometimes far behind, Face saw large splashes and roilings in the water that suggested the human-sized amphibians he had glimpsed before. Perhaps they were keeping their distance because they were easily frightened. That was much more soothing than the possibility that they might be stalking him.
A kilometer downriver, Face felt a blinding flash of pain to the side of his head. He almost fell off the speeder bike. He came upright fast, blaster in hand, aiming at the elegant drapery of grasses to his left.
Grasses—and one pale hand sticking out beyond them, waving.
He brought the speeder bike around, hopped off into the thigh-high water, and shoved his way through.
It was Phanan, sweating, paler than usual, leaning against the bank in the shade of the leaves. His gray TIE-fighter pilot’s suit lacked its breathing gear, helmet, and gloves, and was torn in the front—a tear Face suspected Phanan had inflicted to help cool himself.
“I’m glad to see you,” Phanan said. His voice was weak, very hoarse.
“So glad you decided to brain me with a rock.”
“I can’t shout.”
“Are you hurt?”
Phanan nodded.
“Badly?”
Another nod. “I’m pretty sure I’m bleeding internally. I don’t think I’m going to get much farther.”
“You’re going to get to Hawk-bat Base. Can you ride on the back of the bike?”
Phanan was long in answering. “I think so.”
“Let’s get you up on it. You’ve thrown off pursuit pretty well. I’m going to get us out of their search area before they decide to range out this far.”
Face helped Phanan up on the back of the bike. It wasn’t easy. Halfway up, Phanan let out a bark of pain and curled up into a knot and stayed that way, shuddering, several long moments while Face held him up. Then, finally, Phanan could uncurl enough to take a normal rider’s position on the back of the bike. Face noted that Phanan began sweating heavily as soon as he left the cooling water of the river, and the sweating did not stop.
Face climbed up in the driver’s seat and goosed the thrusters.
The thruster engine let out a more vigorous cough than ever, shuddered once, and died.
“It take it you bought this used,” Phanan said.
Phanan lay on his back on the bike. In his hand he held the bike’s sensor unit, which Face had pulled from its post, leaving it attached only by wires.
The bike’s repulsorlift was fine. So Face, finding a rope in the vehicle’s small cargo compartment, had tied the rope off to the outrigger and was now a couple of meters ahead, dragging the bike by the rope while Phanan rode.
“This is pretty sweet,” Phanan said. “Why don’t you peel me some sunfruit while you’re at it?” There was still a rasp of pain in his voice.
“Sure. You kill it, I’ll peel it. What does pursuit look like?”
“Sensors don’t show any vehicles within our scanning range. I disabled the transmitter on this one’s comlink so they can’t bounce a signal and find us.”
“Good.”
“Face?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for coming back for me.”
“If you got captured, I’d have to fill out forms.”
“Reasonable. By the way, do you have a plan, or is walking in the river pretty much the extent of it?”
“That’s the biggest part of it, sure,” Face said. “Walking downriver for exercise and to broaden my awareness of the incredible diversity of human culture. But sooner or later we have to reach a community. At that point, I’ll sneak in and kidnap you a doctor.”
“Right,” Phanan said. His eyes were closed. “As though I trusted you to find your own backside without help from a spotter satellite.”
“From there, we can also rig a signal to base. We’ll probably be off this rock by dawn.”
“Right.”
“Maybe I’ll find a congenial female doctor in town and she’ll be taken with you and your little ways.”
“It won’t happen. You know what her first words will be?”
“What?”
“She’ll say, ‘Garik Loran? The Face? Ooh, I’m feeling faint.…’ ”
Face turned