Star Wars - Day of the Sepulchral Night by Jean Rabe

Author:Jean Rabe
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 1997-05-12T11:54:49+00:00

I’m not sure how much time passed, time seemed irrelevant while there was all this loot about. But I know it was enough time to let me fill my canvas sack. I started stuffing my pockets full of the gems left in the bottom of the chest. I wasn’t going to let even one bauble escape me.

“I can hardly lift this,” Solum’ke grunted. She was a formidable Weequay, probably stronger than I, and the seams of her sack were threatening to split. “If this planet was more civilized, we could’ve rented droids to help us carry this.”

“Not many droids on Zelos II,” Sevik cut in. He was obviously strong, too. He had two bulging sacks, each tossed over a shoulder. “In fact, there’s not many…”

His words trailed off when I waved at him. I cocked my head to the side and listened. Water. “Something’s wrong,” I said. My pheromones told Solum’ke I was worried. I shouldered my sack, took one of the glow rods, and eased my way by Sevik and into the tunnel.

I’d made it to the narrowest part of the shaft when I realized something was very definitely wrong. A rivulet of water was running down the rocky floor, the source of the noise. At first it looked like a trickle, but as I stared, the water spread out and was coming quicker, becoming a stream. It rushed into the pools of water that were in the depressions of the tunnelway, then came out the other side like a miniature waterfall.

“Sol! We’ve got to get out of here, now! Grab what you’ve got and let’s go! Fast! I think the sea is rising!”

I heard Solum’ke scrabble across the crystals on the floor behind me. A glance over my shoulder revealed that Sevik’s feet were rooted to the spot, his eyes transfixed on all the crystals we were leaving behind.

“Sol!” I shouted, nodding toward our guest.

She gave him a harsh nudge that seemed to snap him back to reality. He brought up the rear of our little entourage, carrying his sacks practically effortlessly. It was tougher going climbing the shaft. It was steeper than I’d realized, and the floor was slippery. As we neared the opening, the water came rushing in even faster, surging around our knees, then our thighs.

A moment later, my head poked out of the opening, and I balanced on the ledge to keep from falling into the sea—which was lapping at my waist now. I let the glow rod slip from my fingers—I didn’t need it. The sky was lighter, the eclipse ending, the tides rising quickly. I started scrambling up what was left of the ridge, motioning Sol to follow me.

Hanugar’s sail raft was heading toward the barge—along the deck of which all the Qwohogs stood. Our sail raft was ruined—there was a deep gash in its hull where the repulsorlift mechanism rested. The mechanism was a useless piece of history, shattered by being dashed against a sharp coral spike. The sail raft still floated—but like a primitive boat—on the water, not above it.

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