“That’s not what I asked.”
“I don’t know why you bothered to inquire at all.” SHSl-B’s tone was distinctly haughty. “I imagine you’ll do whatever you’re planning on, no matter what le-XE and I tell you.”
“Come on.” Dengar motioned Neelah over toward the pallet. “These droids don’t know how tough this barve really is.”
They managed to lift the pallet, with Dengar taking most of the unconscious figure’s weight into his arms, until the loose gravel shifted under his feet and he saw how strong Neelah actually was; she braced herself and caught the load from toppling to one side. Dengar instructed one of the medical droids to loop the carrying strap of the pallet around his neck. With the lantern’s beam wavering ahead of them, they started downward into the murk and stomach-churning smell.
“How do you know …” At the pallet’s back end, Neelah gasped for breath. “How do you know we can get out this way?”
“I don’t,” said Dengar simply. “But there’s an air current coming in from somewhere. You can feel it on your face.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. The nauseated pallor had diminished slightly; she had gone numb to the smell of the decaying Sarlacc’s carcass, buried beneath whatever was left of its nest under the Great Pit of Carkoon. Neelah took a deep breath, nostrils flared, and only gagged slightly. “Even with the stink,” continued Dengar, “I can tell it’s coming from somewhere outside of these tunnels. If we follow it to its source, we might find someplace where we can either crawl out or dig our way to the surface. Or …” He gave a shrug. “We won’t. The bombing raid might have collapsed the rest of the tunnels with too much rubble for us to get through. In which case, it’s pretty much over for all of us.”
“You sound pretty calm about that possibility.”
“What’s my choices? I volunteered for this gig.” One corner of Dengar’s mouth lifted in a grim smile. “Later on, when I’m actually dying, I might let myself get a little more emotional about it. In the meantime we might as well save our strength for whatever digging we’re going to have to do.” He lifted his end of the pallet higher. “Come on. We might as well find out what it’s going to be.”
The two medical droids followed behind. “This goes against all sound therapeutic protocols.” SHS1-B voiced its concern again. “We’re not taking responsibility for whatever happens to our patient.”
“Absolution.” The shorter one trundled with
dif ficulty over the tunnel’s rough terrain. “Lack of blame.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever.” Dengar didn’t look back at the complaining droids. “You’re off the hook.” The lantern’s beam faded away into the darkness ahead of him. “Just don’t tell me about it.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” The worry in Neelah’s voice was audible. “He’s been jostled around quite a bit. Maybe we should let the droids take a look at him-“
“That’s a good idea.” Dengar kept on walking down the tunnel’s slope, his hands gripping the corner of the pallet at his back. “That’ll give whoever it is topside lots of time to take another pass at us.”
“Oh.” Neelah sounded abashed. “I guess you’re right.”
“About this one, I am. We’ll all be better off the sooner we get out of here.” He was already thinking about the next time he would see Manaroo. And if he would ever see her again. A lot of his recent decisions, his plans and schemes, were swiftly metamorphosing to regrets. And this could be the last one, he thought as the pallet’s weight combined with that of its unconscious passenger to dig into Dengar’s hands. Even his sensory perceptions-the tantalizing hint of fresh air against his sweating face-could have been lies and wishes, rather than the simple truth that he was walking through his own tomb.
His doubts faded a bit when the tunnel’s floor leveled beneath his feet; the slope he and Neelah had carried Boba Fett down had extended, through its various twists and turns, at least a hundred yards. That wasn’t enough, Dengar knew, to take them out of the territory of another bombing raid. But he was familiar with the rocky outcroppings of the Dune Sea’s surface all around what had been his hiding place’s entrance; there was a good chance that they had reached a point where the ground’s bones hadn’t been completely atomized. The bombs’ impact might even have created new passages to the oxygen above, untainted by the stench of the rotting Sarlacc. By now, the smell had gotten bad enough that Dengar could taste it, a nauseating film that had crept down the back of his tongue… .