The Sandtrooper's Story - Part II (Fan Fiction WIP)

[Tyranus]

Locked into the X-wing’s ‘droid socket, the little blue astromech was busy monitoring the snub ship’s course and operation data. Engine performance was optimal and steady, cockpit pressure was stable, and the temperature inside was comfortable by human standards. He silently took note that his master was fast asleep as they raced through hyperspace en route from Hoth to Tatooine.

Inside the cockpit, the young rebel pilot had succumbed to a few moments reprieve into a deep slumber. More strange dreams of a somewhat familiar place were once again taking shape as he rested. Dreams that were just as disjointed and bizarre as his life had become . . .

The fog-shrouded jungle was navigationally unforgiving by air, and nearly impassable on foot. Visibility was only about 5 meters, with nothing but dense jungle swamplands littered with massive trees to see anyway. Far overhead, beyond the shrouding fog and low clouds, the tree canopy teemed with all manner of life. Cries and shrieks filtered down through the heavy grey veil to the ground.

Thick decorated snakes slowly twisted themselves around branches, watching silently as lizards hissed, spitting forked tongues into the air to get a taste of the newcomers, and all manner of wildlife slunk away into the tall grasses and mud as the small band worked their way through the difficult terrain.

He was trudging through the calf-deep mud and mists with Leia, the two ‘droids and an old woman whose face he did not know. Slowly, out of the haze ahead, came the vague outline of an enormous, crumbling stone temple.

There was a flash as his dream skipped ahead suddenly. He and Leia were now alone inside the structure. Although he had not seen it happen, he somehow knew the old woman had gone off on her own leaving the ‘droids outside. Ben Kenobi sat atop a large, displaced stone block to his left, silently watching, giving only a slight nod of acknowledgment to the pair as they entered the building.

He heard a grinding stone-on-stone sound from the ceiling above, and only barely managed to shove Leia out if the path of the falling rock. It crashed into the ground beside him as he fell to one side to avoid being crushed. Then it toppled back toward him, falling across his right thigh and calf, pinning him to the floor. Luke looked over to where Ben had been sitting to ask his master for help, only to find that what he thought was Obi-Wan was really a lichen-encrusted statue; toppled and broken.

A shower of other smaller stones fell from the curved dome ceiling overhead, cascading to the stone floor into a pile of broken shards and a fine stone dust cloud. Luke tried hard to focus. He didn’t think the large rock pinning him had broken his leg bone, but there was too much weight behind it for him to move it even slightly. Leia tried in vain to help as the dust began to settle and thin in the air.

As it cleared, a new outline emerged atop the pile of stones. It was clad completely in black armor, and suddenly the hiss of a mechanical respirator cycled on and off . . . on and off . . . on and off.

Leia’s eyes went wide and her mouth silently formed his name, remembering her interrogation session with him on the Death Star. The dark figure snapped his crimson lightsaber on and slowly climbed down the pile of stone toward them. He casually swung the energy blade back and forth in bright arcs, chopping almost playfully at several large stone pieces.

Without looking up, Luke instinctively reached for the sword hilt hanging on his belt as he felt the cold presence in his veins.

“Vader.”

The jungles suddenly evaporated away as he was abruptly awakened by R2 in the cockpit of his fighter. The navigational indicator on the console showed a necessary course adjustment marker approaching near Bpfassh. He yawned and shook his head a bit as he pulled off his helmet and wiped a bit of perspiration from his forehead remembering the temple from the mists. “Pomojema.”

R2 beeped and whistled an inquiry, curious about what his master had just whispered.

“No R2, we’re not going to Pomojema, it’s just a place from a dream.”

He thought a moment about what he had blurted out and the astromech’s response, then turned his head back toward the little ‘droid. “R2, if I did want to go to Pomojema . . . where would we be going?”

The little droid gurgled a bit and the translated data stream appeared on the ship’s monitor on the console in font of him: Mimban.

Mimban? He thought to himself. He had never even heard of Pomojema or Mimban, and wondered why he was dreaming of a swampy, rainy mud hole like that.

R2 generated the reversion checklist for him as Luke prepared to slip out of hyperspace. He would have to make the course change in normal space and then reset the ‘nav computer for a second jump to Tatooine.

* * *

[Tyranus]

“What do you mean a new search?” asked Rogue. “What are we looking for?”

He stepped away from the bed, pacing a bit, then turned back to Holder. “You need to start from as far back as you can, and catch us up, brother.”

The monitors bleeped away in the silence that had suddenly fallen over the room as Holder shifted slightly in the bed. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to find a suitable place to begin.

He looked around the room at us as he spoke. “It’s important that you know I knew nothing of these events until after the fact. When we arrived in place of the intended crew, with our altered orders to manage the closing of the dig site, we had a fair amount of clean-up to do. There were mountains of files to sift through. Some were sent with the original crew, some were destroyed. The shipping contract had to be terminated, and the water contract held with Darklighter water had to be revised now that there was only a skeleton crew on site.” He scratched his arm where medical tape held a fluid line in place.

“It was during that push to finalize things that we discovered the importance of

08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Watcher had taken over security duties, as that was his specialty. I had just finished de-briefing the last of the site’s personnel and sent their shuttle on its way when Watcher came to me with his discovery.”

Holder felt the pounding of the blood in his veins as he continued. “He had been given a small, shielded durasteel case. Along with it, he was given very unusual instructions by one of the crew leaders I had just de-briefed. His instructions were to feed it to the youngest Bantha on site and then turn the entire herd loose into the wild. Get rid of it all. No mistakes.”

Felth interrupted him. “Wait a tick. You were told to feed the case to a Bantha?”

We were all just as lost as Felth.

Holder nodded. “Yes, we were told to feed it to a Bantha. The only thing I can think is that it was believed the Bantha would carry it around for the rest of its life, as it was too large to be passed, and that it would be buried in the sands when the beast died; truly within the belly of the beast.”

Felth leaned forward a bit, arms crossed. “So what does that have to do with 08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450?”

Holder nodded his head, understanding our confusion. “I was just coming to that. I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense yet. Anyway, Watcher and I became suspicious of the possible contents of the case and decided to open it. After all, he had become head of security, and I was the Holder of mission secrets. When we finally did get it open, all we found was a security data card labeled with the range 08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. It wasn’t until we plugged the card in to view its contents that the importance of it became clear.”

He cleared his throat, and motioned for a cup of water. Etz poured a small cup and handed it to him. He drank it down and wiped his mouth, handing the cup back to Etz.

‘The data stream we saw on that recording showed evidence of a murder.”

We all shifted a bit as he continued.

“It happened deep within the dig site complex, in a dim, secluded corridor. Details were difficult to make out due to the poor lighting, but the victim was clearly identified by the conversation leading up to the murder itself. The killers were at that time nothing more than two contacts from the shipping contractor, both vying for a higher position within their group.”

Holder paused and took a breath, looking around at us, then turned his head to lock eyes with Rogue.

“Matalla the Hutt was killed by Prince Xizor and the Nediji assassin, Kaird, of Black Sun.”

* * *

A blistering, early morning wind blew across the spacious stone terrace of the Darklighter estate, blasting a bit of fine dust in his eyes as Luke lowered his head, pausing momentarily before continuing. Absolute silence had engulfed Huff, who had gone rigid. He saw Luke’s mouth moving, but heard nothing more come out.

It was as if the mainspring that drives the mechanism at the very heart of the universe machine had suddenly snapped. The armatures that normally would have been ticking off the seconds and hours of infinity swung wildly out of control, reeling in the chaos of the moment to eventually rock back and forth at the bottom of the celestial clock face, slowly diminishing into an absolutely still, motionless stop.

The blood drained from his head as muscles all over his body began to twitch involuntarily from the sudden surge of adrenaline in his veins. He felt as if every bit of the solid ground surrounding them, except the square foot or two beneath his feet, had crumbled and fallen away, leaving him perched high atop a spindly stone spire, completely alone, completely isolated in his misery.

Biggs was dead? Vaporized? His eager young son with the quick smile and his mother’s easy manner had been vaporized? There wouldn’t even be anything to bury. Tears fell uncontrollably down his face as the raw grief ravaged his insides. His heart collapsed inward on itself as the disbelief and absolute sadness he felt was quickly followed by complete and utter emotional depletion.

Luke reached out and put his arms around Huff, embracing the only father figure he’d ever really known the way only Biggs’ best friend could in such a personal, awkward moment. Sound slowly emerged from the electric buzzing in Huff’s ears as he began to hear the wind rustling past his clothing wraps, catching the coarse hair of his beard.

The older man struggled somewhat unsuccessfully to regain his composure. “Thank you, Luke, for coming.” He looked at young man fondly, like he did his own children. “You two were more like brothers than any two I’ve ever seen. When he learned something new about the condensers, or flying his ‘hopper, all he wanted to do was shoot over to your uncle’s place and fill you in.”

Suddenly the anguish was wiped away by a fresh, new concern. “Luke, you aren’t safe here. There’s a permanent detachment of Imperial troops here now. They were looking for you in Anchorhead, and out at your uncle’s place. Son, they . . .”

Luke stopped him. “I know.” He nodded his head. “I know what they did. I saw it.” A moment of silence passed between them. “Are Windy and Deak OK? What about Camie and Fixer?”

“They were questioned and shaken up a bit, but they’re all fine. Well, Fixer had a bad accident out on a canyon speed run, but he’s recovering. He was out for quite a while, but is back at the power station now. His ‘hopper’s gone, though; nothing left but scrap.”

“That must have been some accident.”

Huff nodded, “It was. He and Windy were racing and he got caught in a downdraft that pushed him right into Windy’s ‘hopper. They both went down out near the Stone Needle.”

Luke was visibly shaken and filled with concern and maybe just a bit of desire to be back racing the canyons again. Huff put a hand on Luke’s shoulder, smiling kindly. “You know you aren’t safe here, and yet still you come see me. You’re a fine son, Luke.” He paused a moment. “What was it those troops were looking for?”

Luke looked up. “It’s a long, complicated story, but they were looking for a ‘droid my uncle bought, and since I was the one out with it, they were looking for me too.”

A cool gust of wind blew around them. Luke looked off to the horizon in the direction of his uncle’s farm. “Is the harvest under way yet?”

Huff nodded, looking up into the blue sky. “Starts tomorrow. Winter’s coming whether we want it or not.”

Luke nodded knowingly. “I should go. I know you’re busy getting ready for it.”

Huff turned to look at Luke. “That is tomorrow’s business. Come inside and have something to eat with us before you leave.”

* * *

[Tyranus]

I noticed the thick smell of various medications and disinfectants hanging in the still air as we all weighed what Holder had just said.

“People get themselves killed every hour of every day in the Outer Rim worlds. I have to admit, I was wondering what made this murder so special.” said Felth.

A small pump beside the bed switched on for a few seconds, then off as Rogue shook his head in amazement. “Killing a Hutt is no small thing, no pun intended. Jabba and the rest of the clan would never let that go quietly. If they even suspected Black Sun was behind it . . .”

“There’d have been a small war fought between them” I said, finishing Rogue’s sentence. He nodded in agreement.

Blade was scanning the screen of his field holonet pack, his thumb scrolling through screen after screen. “I don’t see any record of a Matalla the Hutt anywhere.”

Holder turned his head toward Blade, then cut his eyes to Rogue, “You won’t. From what I learned, Jabba kept his ‘brother’ hidden, as he was a bit of an embarrassment both personally and to the whole of the Hutt clan.”

“Embarrassment or not, there would have been immediate and bloody retaliation against Xizor, Kaird and all of Black Sun if they had known what we know” countered Rogue.

Felth impatiently blurted out, “You know, this information is twenty years old. Why do we care about it? There was no war between the Hutts and Black Sun and the clan doesn’t seem overly concerned over Matalla’s disappearance.”

Holder became visibly concerned and agitated now. “We should care about it because I picked up Kaird’s embedded tracking signature two days ago on my armor’s signal receiver. Everyone that was on base at the dig site had one, but nobody uses them anymore. I doubt Kaird even remembers it’s in that skull of his. I’ve been watching for changes but there hasn’t been one. Just before we headed out to where Watcher’s body was dumped, the Port Authority contacted me about someone taking an interest in Kaird’s ship. They confirmed that Xizor’s personal ‘droid assistant, Guri had arrived and had made an inquiry about it. Both of them knew what Watcher knew, and one of them killed the crazy old guy looking for it.”

He looked across at Rogue, handing him the small signal tracker. “I know they’re both here searching for the recording; it’s the only thing common to them both. For some reason it must have become important again, and make no mistake about it; either will kill to find it and keep it secure once they do.”

Etz leaned closer to Holder, “Why did you say ‘brother’ that way?”

I was turning away from the bedside, stepping toward a ‘droid busily cleaning the empty autopsy table as I interjected the answer. “He did that because Hutts are hermaphroditic.”

Etz and Blade stared blankly at each other, then turned, twisting their heads to look at me as Rogue and Holder nodded knowingly.

Doc Shurte, who had been standing behind me listening, stepped forward into the empty space I had vacated, interjecting at this point. “A hermaphroditic animal is one that has both male and female reproductive organs and sexual characteristics. Basically, a Hutt’s apparent gender comes from a conscious decision made by each individual Hutt as to which gender it identifies with.”

“Didn’t see that coming” commented Blade.

“Didn’t want to see that coming” commented Etz.

There was a moment of silence as the doctor adjusted one of the monitors, and checked a connection on Holder’s chest. “Let’s let him get some rest. We can continue this conversation over there” he said, indicating a young woman working at a desk across the room near the morgue drawers.

We all filed away from the bed as Holder closed his eyes and the doctor drew the curtain around the bed.

One of the student archaeologists was seated at the desk, silently cataloguing a recent find. Felth sat down on the corner, flipping the power switch of his blaster on and off, on and off impatiently. When she continued working, quite unimpressed, he stood up abruptly and walked through the door to the waiting area.

Rogue spoke to Blade as they walked toward the desk. “Have 4120 and 0600 pay a visit to the Port Authority. They’ve developed such a wonderful rapport with that office now. I want 1265 keeping a visual on both Kaird and Guri’s ships.”

Blade nodded as he stopped beside the desk, leaning in close to Rogue. He didn’t realize I could hear. “I can do that sir, but may I offer the services of my ‘shadow’? At the moment, she’s laying low at the Dowager Queen with nothing to do, and she has no discernable ties to any of us. It also keeps 1265 free for us to use.”

Rogue considered the suggestion, then quietly replied. “Can you trust her?”

Blade looked away momentarily, then back to Rogue. “I trust her, sir.”

“Do it, but have her take one of them, and put 1265 on the other. We have enough people going with us; he’s much better utilized to keep watch on them.” replied Rogue. “We’re going to need to move on this fast and find it first.”

The student spoke up, keeping her attention focused on the relic she was cleaning in her hands. “If you’re looking for something old out there, we can help.” She looked up. “It’s what we do. If it’s a dead Bantha you’re looking for, local legend tells of a Great Bantha Graveyard littered with the bones of a thousand dead Banthas. When a Bantha knows it’s time is drawing to an end, it journeys out into the Dune Sea in search of the graveyard, and its place to die. We’ve been looking for their graveyard as part of our study. We could work together.”

Rogue looked at me, then to the student, then over to the doctor. “Doc, they’ll be working with us for a while.”

He shifted his attention back to the student. “OK, kid let’s get your group together out front. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

I leaned closer to Blade as we walked toward the door. “Your shadow is here? When did that happen?”

He looked back at me. “I uncovered her in the marketplace. It isn’t common knowledge to anyone but Rogue, and now you. Keep it to yourself, OK Deck?”

I nodded silently.

Rogue headed through the door to the front of the building and we followed him out. I paused at the doorway, turning back. “Doc, keep that old man’s corpse on ice and protected in case we need him.”

He nodded, glancing back to the drawer that contained Watcher’s body, his forehead creased with growing concern.

* * *

[Tyranus]

Luke struggled to lift R2 over a rockslide that blocked the already rough path to Kenobi’s home. The little astromech bleeped his thanks. His lateral hover jets had been removed years earlier by the director of the labor pool onboard the Tantive IV when he had been re-fitted with tool arms for certain mission specific duties. If it was possible for a ‘droid to miss something, he surely missed his jets.

He waddled after his new master as he entered the stone dwelling. The twin suns had already set and the sky overhead which had been ablaze with staccato streaks of oranges and purples, set against the dark blue sky was now fading into blackness, pinpricked with starlight.

Luke closed and bolted the door behind the little ‘droid and walked into the darkness of the main room. Nothing had been disturbed since his last visit. Slowly he sat down in the spot Ben had occupied on that tumultuous day they met, and rested his head back against the stone wall. A wind gust whistled from around the door, breaking the silence. The stone building felt so empty with Ben gone, so much smaller now, as did most of his old life. His closest childhood friend was gone too. Biggs had always been the big brother figure for him, and he missed that. He was angry at having been robbed of the opportunity to have great adventures with him; all those adventures he had dreamed of while staring off into the countless sunsets over the years.

Pushing those thoughts back in his mind, he stood, making his way to the back room, where Kenobi’s modest bed sat neatly made. He sat down on the firm surface, rolled onto it, and stretched his legs. In his hand was the small cube-shaped holocron Ben had left for him.

At that moment, the little ‘droid rolled into the room and beside the bed, making a small nervous scraping noise. Luke closed his eyes and allowed his neck muscles to relax as his head sank deeper into the pillow. “We’ll head out there tomorrow R2. Go out into the main room and power down to sentry mode, OK?”

R2 bleeped again, whirling in a tight circle and scooting away into the darkness.

“That’s right; big day tomorrow.”

The rest of the muscles in Luke’s body slowly relaxed, and he drifted into a deep and much needed sleep.

* * *

[Tyranus]

A segment I just wrote was just inserted a little more than halfway down on this page IN RED LETTERS, so those reading can pick it out easier.

[Tyranus]

Snow blasted across the nose of the ship as Solo maneuvered his Y-wing through the whiteout conditions of the blizzard assaulting the surface of Hoth. His face, dimly illuminated in the small, dark cockpit by the instruments, revealed his elevated level of concentration. He would rather fly by sight any day, but he found himself needing to dust off his old skills and fly by instruments only, as he made his way toward the encrypted beacon heading and the obscure base the rebels were building.

Slowly out of the darkness and speeding fury of the Hoth night came the dim glow of the cavern entrance and open shield doors of the base. He cut his engines and extended the landing gear as he passed through the doors, drifting noiselessly through them on his repulsor field into the slot designated for his ship.

Ice that had formed across the Y-wing’s skin cracked and fell away as he pushed open the cockpit of the fighter. Dack slid by, rotated slightly, and set down his X-wing down in the open slot alongside Wedge’s shredded bird.

As the two pilots powered down all systems, members of the flight crew that were still on duty moved quickly beneath both ships. They scraped the ice away from the metal skin where it covered power and fuel ports, and connected the necessary feed lines.

One of the deckhands moved out from beneath the Y-wing, secured a ladder to the side of the ship just beneath the cockpit, then turned and gave a nod and thumbs up to a tech inside the control room along one side of the hangar. Moments later, as Solo descended the ladder, the massive outer shield doors lurched with the sound of metal scraping on metal as they began to slowly creep closed.

He unzipped the front of his orange flight suit as his eyes moved to Dack’s ship where Toryn Farr was waiting for the young pilot to climb down to her. His eyes darted to Wedge’s ship, and then to the empty slot where Luke’s should have been. The Corellian smuggler pulled his arms free of the flight suit, folded it down, and tied the sleeves around his waist half wishing the Princess had been waiting for him.

He still wasn’t sure exactly how he had ended up here, but at least no bounty hunters had caught up to him yet. The time would come when he could no longer wait, and would have to settle things with Jabba properly, Princess or not. He shot a sideways glance to the crew member working on his ship. “Where is Lu . . .” he stopped himself. “I mean Commander Skywalker’s fighter?”

The tech continued screwing shut a small control panel on the underside of the engine, answering Solo without looking. “The word that trickled down to us from General Rieekan was not to expect him.”

“Rieekan huh?”

Han sharply turned and caught sight of Dack and Torynn walking away together, talking quietly. He watched the pair as they disappeared into a dark hallway on the far side of the hangar. Pushing thoughts of Leia to the back of his mind, he hastily exited, heading down the narrow winding ice corridor that led to the Command Center.

As he disappeared from sight, high up on the opposing cavern wall there was movement in one of the small control rooms. A figure moved out of the shadows and stepped toward the transparisteel. Leia Organa watched Captain Solo through her own reflection. When he could no longer be seen, she dropped her eyes and leaned her head against the pane, rolling uneasy thoughts over in her mind. Abruptly, her eyes flicked up and she stepped back, disappearing once again into the shadows.

* * *

[Tyranus]

Zu was the last one of the small archaeological team in, and she closed the door to the small bunk room. The evening winds were kicking up, and a spray of sand had blown in across the floor. She walked past her friends to her trunk, stripping off her jacket and shirt.

Ashkii stowed some of the heavier gear away as Daegan paced back and forth, his thoughts churning into words. “What the **** were you thinking, telling Imperial troops we’d help them?”

Erek slid the sun visor back off his eyes and chimed in from where he reclined in his bunk, “Yeah, what made you think you could speak for all of us?”

Even Miren was frustrated with her team mate “Come on Alina, you need to think, girl. I don’t like the idea of getting involved with them.”

‘Lina looked up from the artifact she was cataloguing, shot a harsh glare at Miren, and addressed the room in general, “You guys, I don’t like it any more than you do, but the one thing that flashed through my head while they were talking was that these troops have resources we would never have access to. Helping them helps us. If we find the graveyard together, it’s a huge coup for our team, and they find whatever it is they’re after.”

Ashkii leaned against the wall, “Do you even know what it is they’re after?”

‘Lina rolled her eyes, “Does it really matter, Ash?

Zu pulled a shirt on and sat down on her bunk, “Yeah, it could matter a lot. Looking for the graveyard on our own is one thing. Dragging Imperial troops across the sands looking for it is another. Imperial Troops ‘Lina! Are you crazy? Whatever it is they’re searching for could be really dangerous.”

Bem, who had been quietly standing in the shadows of the corner listening, interjected. “You know, it’s not what any of us would ideally want, but ‘Lina’s right. This does help us.”

A frustrated Daegan threw his goggles across the room to his bunk. “Come on, Bem. You know we don’t need any attention, especially from the local law enforcement.”

Bem shifted his stance. “The rest of us aren’t necessarily squeaky clean, I know, but I think what you mean to say is that YOU don’t need the extra attention.”

Daegan’s eyes narrowed a bit as he stared across the room at Bem. “That’s no secret. Everyone knows why I wanted this location.”

Bem stood a bit taller, slipping his own goggles into a baggy pocket on his thigh. “That may be, but you’re the only one on the team that’s hanging out in the Outer Rim because things got too hot at home.”

Daegan’s eyes darted from face to face around the dim room. “You’re hanging out with me. We all agreed this was a great hiding place for me to lay low where we could also get some decent work done. Nobody entertained the idea of partnering with Imperial troops until now!” He turned his head, and directed his glare toward ‘Lina.

It was at that moment that the door burst open and Doc Shurte hurried through, sand blowing and wind howling in the darkness behind him. The old man closed the door quickly and turned, glancing around the room at the troubled faces.

“Ah, yes. I thought there might be a bit of unrest in here.” He walked toward the center of the room and came to stop between Bem and Daegan, turning to look at the latter. “Son, I wouldn’t let you do this if I thought there was a problem. I promised my sister that you and your friends would be safe here.”

Daegan turned away, pointing at ‘Lina. “That’s great, but she’s all but delivered me to the Empire!”

Doc looked around the room, over his glasses, as he spoke, “I can tell you something is up. These troops aren’t following a normal Imperial protocol. If they had been, they would’ve never sought my help for their comrade in the bed inside. Under proper protocol, the circumstances under which I came to be needed would have surely meant Holder’s evacuation from this place for de-briefing at the very least.”

The doc lifted the glasses from the bridge of his nose as he rubbed the skin where they had been resting. “No, I believe these troops are operating outside the realm of the Empire, and have very little, if any, interest in you. With that said, ‘Lina threw the barn door wide open when she volunteered to help them. They’ll be back in a few days geared up and ready to go.”

He replaced his glasses, looking through them at Daegan. “The best thing you can do now, my boy . . . is get some rest . . . and help them.”

*

[Tyranus]

Sand was held out by the magnetic shield as the overhead bay doors drew together, sealing out the dark sky and wailing winds. Topolev was waiting for us, and as our speeder settled to its repulsor-field hover cushion, he popped open a small port in the hull, securing the charging cables.

Etz cut power and those of us that had been riding in the exposed rear portion of the transport pulled off helmets and shook sand from beneath our armor plates in the still, dank air of the bay. Topolev hollered back to us as he returned to his work in the adjacent cache supply room. “How’s Holder?”

Danz pulled off his gloves and hand armor, stuffing them inside his helmet, looking around at the rest of us, “Is it just me, or was that wind actually a little bit cold?”

“You turning into an old woman, Danz?” laughed Blade. I laughed a bit too as I pulled off my gloves and watched for a reaction.

Felth jumped in before Danz could respond. “No, he’s right. Some of the locals on the street the other day were talking about getting the harvest in before winter hit. It must almost be here.”

“What do they grow here anyway, this place is one big sand pit” said Etz, jumping down off the tailboard.

Felth began explaining to them about hydroponic crops as I looked across to Danz. “I don’t know about you, but I could stand some cooler weather.” He nodded his silent agreement.

In the cache room, Topolev sat down next to 4120 and went back to cataloguing the holo-cards. “I guess nobody heard me.”

4120 stood up as Topolev returned to their desk in the main cache storage room. “I heard you.” He walked past me to Rogue as he re-wrapped the synth-skin at the wrist of his cybernetic hand. He repeated Topolev’s question. “How’s Holder?”

Rogue, preoccupied in semi-deep thought replied rather mechanically. “Recovering . . .” He hesitated a second, staring off into space, then turned to 4120. But we have a bigger issue.” He looked up, locking eyes with 4120. “What do you know about the death ritual of the elderly, indigenous Bantha?”

4120 looked a bit puzzled at this random and bizarre question, and was at a loss for a reply. We were all listening now.

“Exactly” said Rogue. “Not one of us knows anything about it. So . . . we’re going to need the insight and guidance of a local in addition to the scientific approach of that group of kids on the archaeological team. They’re not from here either. They’re from Balmorra.”

“Archaeological team?” asked 4120.

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain, but we need all troops recalled from their patrols and duties. Based on the players already looking for this thing, there’s a good reason it was hidden, and probably an even bigger reason to find it, and find it first. We’re going to need everyone’s help. Call them back to base, and get Garindan in here. I need to put our snitch to work.”

4120 nodded. “Right away.”

Rogue pulled Blade aside. “You need to have a conversation with your shadow. We don’t need any friendly fire accidents” Blade nodded.

Felth watched 4120 as he headed for the upper level comm center. He couldn’t help but wonder who else Garindan might already be helping.

* * *

[Tyranus]

The still quiet of the darkened med lab was broken only by the occasional whine or flutter of a machine or ‘droid. Holder lay in his bed thinking. Kaird was here, now on this planet again, and while it was likely that he didn’t even remember about the tracker in his head, for Holder, the elapsed twenty years since the implant was fired into the back of his head only seemed like days.

He stared at the ceiling, with half memories still flashing and falling into place in his head, keeping sleep just out of reach. He gave up trying to get rest and instead, slid a hand under his pillow, retrieving a sheathed knife. As he turned off the bedside monitors, he ripped off their leads and pulled out his IV lines. Rolling to a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, he allowed himself a moment to adjust to being upright. He stood up, feeling the cool stone floor under his bare feet and the ID tags around his neck sliding back and forth across his chest as he walked silently toward the ‘fresher.

Once inside he carefully closed and locked the door. A lone luminary winked on as the door closed, its intense light streaming down from just above a wall-mounted mirror. Silently, he stepped in front of it and locked eyes with his reflection. He hadn’t aged at all, but felt incredibly lost. He didn’t really belong in this time, and yet he no longer belonged in the past either. Twenty years gone in a flash.

He closed his eyes and raised his left arm to his head, running the tip of his index finger slowly back across his scalp; over the top and toward the base of his skull. He was almost to the soft tissue of the neck when he felt the slight bulge beneath the skin, sitting up just above the bone. His eyes opened slightly as he slid his fingertip back and forth several times across the bump to ensure it was the right spot.

Once convinced it was, he held his fingertip on it as he slid the knife from the sheath with his right hand. Carefully, and with a firm grip, he raised it to his head. The blade slowly pushed through his hair until the sharp, pointed tip came to rest on the bump as he saw the scene in his minds’ eye. Sliding his left finger out of the way, he firmly pressed the blade into his skin just below the knot. He slid it slightly so the blade sliced through the taut flesh, which split open under the sharp edge and parted cleanly.

Blood instantly welled up in the crude incision and began to flow freely and in great abundance. With the sharp tip of the blade he probed the bloody opening, scraping through the tissue and bone until it found the edge of the small metallic tracking implant.

Sliding his left hand around to brace his forehead, he forced the tip of the knife between the small, tubular implant and the bone of his skull and began carefully prying it out with short jerks of the blade.

His hand glistened with blood now as he worked, dripping from it down his back in a steady, near-constant flow. Finally he felt the tiny cylinder dislodge from the bone. Carefully, he pulled the knife away, bringing it around under the lamp for a look. On the bloody blade sat a narrow cylinder about two centimeters long. He rolled it slowly with a bloody fingertip. It was still intact and still transmitting.

“Perfect.”

* * *

[Tyranus]

It was nearly morning when Chewbacca rolled out of his modified crew bunk aboard the Millennium Falcon and noted that Solo’s bunk had not been slept in. The gentle giant stepped out into the main walkway that encircled the ship. As he stepped onto the smooth deck panels, he raised the strap of his bandolier with attached satchel over his head and situated it properly on his shoulder.

Powerful Wookiee hands pushed one of the thick metallic erg clips back into its secure, centered position in the leather bandolier as he took a quick look into the cockpit. Solo was not there either.

He gathered up the tool kit and welding set he had left on the gaming bench and headed for the main boarding ramp.

The segmented, circular hatch rotated up into the ship, revealing the ramp, as the Wook stepped out onto its frigid, inclined surface. Once out, he closed the hatch, sealing in any heat to be found inside the ‘Falcon.

It was very early and activity was sparse within the hangar. A few technicians worked on repairs to Wedge’s fighter and the ice cutting crew was assembled in a meeting huddle discussing the layout of the lower levels. Everyone wore thermal gear. Even in the relative protection afforded within their ice base, temperatures were still cold enough to cause damage if you weren’t properly insulated. Being a Wookiee, he didn’t have to worry about such things.

A young rebel ran past with an armful of Tauntaun harnesses and waved to the hairy Wookiee.

“Good morning Chewbacca.”

Chewie woofed a pleasant grunted reply as the young woman continued running toward the corral. If Solo wasn’t around, this might be the perfect time to work on that faulty central landing claw. As he stepped off the ramp and crouched to move beneath the ship, his eyes peered under toward the claw . . . only to see Solo, in his parka with the hood up, sitting atop a supply crate with his is head resting against the extender hydraulics of the claw, fast asleep.

A woof of frustration escaped the Wook’s lips as he turned away, quickly deciding instead to work on upgrading the ancient cooling lines that snaked across the upper hull.

Only moments later a claxon screeched once, and the shield doors began to retract, opening up to another Hoth morning. The noise awakened Solo, who rolled his head to watch the doors open. The morning sky that lay beyond didn’t look any different than the dark, stormy sky he had flown through returning to base the night before. Winds whistled and groaned, blowing snow and fog inside the huge cavern.

A blast of the cold air streamed through the hangar and across his exposed neck. Shivering a bit, he secured his parka up to just beneath his chin and pulled the furry hood nearly closed across his face.

Mercifully, the haunting images of the nightmare he’d been having of his childhood on the streets of Corellia were fading rapidly as he began to fully awaken. Like shadows hiding from approaching light, they fell away from him. As they did, a new set of nightmarish thoughts slipped in to take their place; thoughts of Jabba The Hutt and how he must be hunting him over dumped cargo.

It was something that needed to be taken care of, and soon. His reward money would more than cover the payoff and Fett was temporarily out of the picture until he could have the outrigger on Slave I remounted and repaired.

His eyes darted to the edge of the hangar as a small group entered. Mon Mothma and Leia, flanked by Alia and Yane’ made their way slowly across the hangar, looking at the ships and discussing various plans and strategies.

The base was still rough, but slowly beginning to come together. He decided to wait until the recon flights were completed and some sort of perimeter defense system was in place. He didn’t want to leave Leia behind until at least that level of protection was up and running.

Leia.

Thoughts of her raised a whole other set of issues. What about Bria? He had just learned of her death. Had she meant nothing to him? And what about Jenny back on Tatooine and all the others strewn across the galaxy? Was he ready to give them up for her?

His eyes moved to the two techs working on Wedge’s ship and the empty space beside it. Why would Luke just disappear like that without any warning? The kid definitely had skills, but he also had a knack for needing a safety net. With Kenobi gone, he somehow felt compelled to step up and provide the backup as he had in the Battle of Yavin.

Did he feel some kind of obligation to help this kid? His thoughts drifted away to another kid in another time; one whose face had haunted him in the murk of his dreams mere moments ago.

He had been one of many street kids that night, out scavenging for food. All were too cocky for their own good; all were that way to hide the bottomless fear that threatened to consume them. On that particular night he’d found himself stuck watching out for that younger kid. What was his name?

The shifting images of years long blurred began to coalesce, slowly revealing unpleasant and untidy memories of that ink-black night in the forgotten alleys of Corellia. Memories of that older gang member with the drawn blaster, accusations about them being in the wrong sector.

Han was just a boy, but he had tried to be the honorable man. He had a small makeshift blaster, cobbled together from spare parts found in the scrap heaps near the shipyard.

As terrified as he had been, with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, he kept it holstered on his hip. He was just a street kid, but he still understood the concept of honor. He never revealed his fear, and he promised himself he wouldn’t kill on a hunch or a gut feeling.

How utterly wrong that naïve little boy had been.

It was here that the memory remained fuzzy. Time had seemed to slow that night in the alley. The older kid drew on them, followed by a flash from both the muzzle and rear of his gun. It discharged a bolt, but the energy coupler in the discharge chamber had exploded in the process, temporarily blinding the boy holding it.

The smell of ozone rushed over him as he covered his eyes reflexively. As he did so, the youngster in his care crumpled to the street, having been hit at close range.

In the confusion following, Han ran, as fast as he could away into the night, the sound of his heartbeat slamming against his eardrums. He hadn’t stopped running until he saw that small, dark space under the naval loading dock and scrambled inside.

Ever since that night, whenever those neck hairs stood on end from a hunch, that life or death, knotted hunch in his gut . . . he took care of himself and those with him.

He didn’t hesitate or think. He shot first, and worried about the details and the mess later.

* * *

The small belt hook ring on the lightsaber trembled, but would not rise. The weapon rested alongside Luke’s holocron atop a small bench. Luke sat on Kenobi’s bed, focusing intently on the lightsaber. His arm was extended toward the hilt, calling it, willing it into this hand.

Obi Wan’s voice spoke again from the holocron. “Feel the Force push and pull like a great wind or the absence of air. Like water washing in and away from the shore. Feel the object’s energy and merge it to your own. Become one with it.”

Still the belt hook merely trembled. Luke relaxed his arm. He was exhausted.

Master Kenobi spoke again. “Do not think of the Force as a tool to be wielded. Think of it as an extension of your own energy, extending and BECOMING the tool. It will obey your commands just as your arm or your hand would because it is part of you, and you are part of it.”

Luke took a breath and raised his hand again, relaxing this time and visualizing what he saw in Kenobi’s instruction. He imagined his own reach extending out to the hilt. The belt loop trembled again, a bit more agitated this time. He relaxed further, breathing evenly, envisioning his fingertip raising the loop.

Across the room, the tiny ring snapped up to face him just as R2 rolled whistling through the doorway. His concentration broke, and the ring dropped. He exhaled, clearly frustrated. “Yes R2, we’re leaving soon.”

As R2 rotated to leave, one of his outer feet struck the base of the bench. Both the holocron and the lightsaber were jarred and fell. Luke lunged forward making the split-second decision to grab the holocron, allowing the saber hilt to fall to the stone floor with a loud clattering.

“R2 be careful!”

He put the holocron on the bed and knelt down to pick up his lightsaber. When he picked it up, several small pieces of clear glass fell to the floor. He rolled it over to see that the ancient glass sensor eye had shattered.

Shielding his eyes and holding the hilt as far away from his body as he could, he pressed the activation button. Instead of the normal, meter-long energy shaft, a small needle-thin shaft of barely twelve centimeters appeared.

Sparks popped and fell from inside the shattered lens as the blade suddenly stretched out to full length. Just as quickly back to the short length, and began cycling between the two length settings.

Disgusted, Luke switched it off as he shot R2 a look. The little droid rotated his dome away, avoiding eye contact.

“Great. The length adjustment is shot. Now what am I going to do? You broke it R2!”

Suddenly, above the holocron, the image of Kenobi flickered and disappeared, replaced with a display of schematics; lightsaber schematics. Luke leaned in close, studying them as Kenobi’s voice whispered.

“You will need the tools and parts from my home and the cave, and then . . . you will need to take them to one final place. Find those pieces and I will guide you the rest of the way.”

* * *

[Tyranus]

The calm of the empty street was broken as Etz, Danz and Blade stepped out of the barracks into the still morning air. Though ambient sunslight now filled the sky, the gleaming twin suns had not yet arisen beyond the horizon.

As the door slid shut behind them, a cloaked shape walking their way hastily slipped into the shadows of an alleyway further down the street. Etz and Danz slipped on their helmets and set off for the morning patrol loop of the spaceport, having missed the figure’s quick retreat into the darkness.

Blade stood in his black flight suit, watching as they walked away. Then he turned sharply, heading off in the opposite direction, making his way toward the center of town. He was preoccupied, having promised Rogue he would speak to the shadow; the incredibly attractive shadow woman that waited at the Dowager Queen.

For the upcoming mission, he would need her to stay behind and not trail him, for her own safety. The search for the lost security recordings could be very dangerous, and he needed to be sure that anyone tracking his group was a target, not a friend. He shook his head; he didn’t even know her name.

Holder peered from beneath the deep cloak as Etz and Danz disappeared onto an adjacent street. He watched silently, deep in thought, as Blade moved further away. Should he follow him, or the other two? He looked down to the small cylindrical transmitter in his palm, and then back in the direction the others had taken. Having made his decision, and when he felt comfortable with the distance between them, he pulled the thick cloak in closer around his face and cautiously stepped out into the empty street to follow Blade.

*

[Tyranus]

The vivid people and situations that fleshed out my dreams began to evaporate into darkness as I mentally ascended toward consciousness. In those last few moments of sleep, I could hear the sounds of morning in the barracks before my eyes ever opened.

When my brain was fully functioning at a level that told me what I was hearing was real, my eyelids slowly parted, letting reality in. The still dim room was fairly out of focus, so I blinked again. This time I opened my eyes to crisp detail.

Topolev, 1265 and Falker were carrying supplies from the front office through to the storeroom in the back.

4120 was sitting on the bunk adjacent to mine. He had the small metal case containing his cybernetic replacement hands open, and was unwrapping the synth-skin at his wrist. “Finally decided to join us, eh Deck?”

My eyes fell shut again and I rolled onto my back, feeling the bones in my neck crack as they realigned. I exhaled slightly. “Yeah, and lucky me, the first thing I see is your sorry ***.”

We both grinned without seeing the other do so, and he continued. “You know, you snore like a dying Bantha.”

He shot a look my way as the artificial skin came loose from his arm revealing the implanted metallic stump and the attached modular hand. He looked back to the gleaming joint as he moved the hand around. Rogue and Felth walked past discussing supply needs for our search party.

I was still grinning a little as I lay a forearm across my eyes. “Well, I guess that’s better than taking after you; looking and smelling like the other end.”

Again we both grinned.

I moved my arm off my eyes and sat up. “What’s wrong with the hand?”

He scratched at his real skin where it disappeared beneath the stump cap. It was bright red and looked swollen.

“It’s been irritated for a week or so now; it itches something fierce. It’s giving me a banging headache and the synth skin won’t stay attached.”

I leaned closer for a better look. “It looks like it might be infected. You should have the doc look at it before we head out. We may be gone a while. You don’t want that thing getting any worse.”

He attached the sticky end flap of a new roll of synth-skin to the back of the cyber hand and began wrapping the joint. “If I have time to, I will.”

I looked around; making sure the others had emptied from the room before turning back to him. “Do you get a weird vibe from Felth, or is it just me?”

He kept wrapping. “What do you mean?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Something just seems off about him. I can’t put my finger on it specifically, but there’s something about him. Things I’ve seen him do or not do, messages he’s sent over the holonet. Maybe just keep an eye on him?”

He looked over to me as he kept wrapping and nodded slightly, “Yeah, sure.” I nodded back as Felth and Rogue walked hurriedly through again, heading for the rear storeroom.

We both silently followed him with our eyes.

*

[Tyranus]

The elusive shadow of Garindan slunk almost invisibly through the streets. He knew where to find the pack Eopies needed for the journey, and was running through a mental list of people who could possibly lead the troops and scientists on their search as he walked. There were several crusty old scrap dealers he knew that had crisscrossed the Dune Sea in search of salvageable parts. On any given night, after a few drinks, they spun elaborate tales of an immense boneyard out in the ‘Sea. No one had ever taken the drunken fools seriously, until now.

As he was nearly to the first of the parts shops, another person suddenly came to mind with a flash. He stopped short in his tracks, his mind reeling. It baffled him why he hadn’t thought of the ‘Sandman of Tatooine’ sooner. Delighted with the recollection, he disappeared into the shop to interview the first of the parts men on his list. His questions would reveal if they were promising, and a good fit for the team, or merely a drunken cantina storyteller.

*

Doc Shurte held a hand up before his face, deflecting the fine sand spray thrown up from the departing ‘speeder. He watched it accelerate away across the flats as his Rodian assistant headed for home.

Holder’s bed was empty and he was gone, as was the swoop bike that had been chained up out back. The aging doctor sighed. Hed have to call rogue and let him know the Commando was missing.

A slight wind carried on it the distant wailing of womp rats as Daegan approached him from behind.

“Uncle, it’s time.”

Shurte looked from the horizon down to his feet. “The clinic is locked up, are all the supplies ready?”

“Everything's ready. All supplies are packed and on the repulsor sled. It’s nearly midday and the crew is irritated enough about having to go to the troops instead of them coming here. They’re anxious to head out so we can make it to Mos Eisley before nightfall. It’s going to be slow going dragging that overloaded sled behind your old speeder.”

The older man nodded silently, his brow furrowed with unspoken concern.

* * *

[Tyranus]

A mixed roaring of both the new energy blades and the older mechanical cutting claws rebounded from the frozen walls and ceiling as the crews scraping the base layout from the ice continued their work. The newer digger models used energy blades that vaporized the ice on contact, but there were only two of those and funding wasn’t there for more.

The older diggers were far cheaper and easier to come by and were equipped with long rows of spinning durasteel blades which ground deeper and deeper into the ice walls as it advanced. All the while, a fine spray of ice shards was ejected from beneath them until the repulsor bins attached below were sufficiently loaded. When they were, a small sensor within the bin activated an alarm on the operator’s datapad console as the cutter was automatically disengaged and the digger shut down.

Once released from the main vehicle, the robotic bins wound their way through the tunnels and hangars of the slowly growing rebel base to the outside. As they traveled, the container full of ice shards was slightly heated and compressed, and then allowed to re-freeze in the frigid Hoth air, creating large ice blocks. These were then deposited for ground crews outside the base before the bin returned to its digger. The blocks were then used for creating ice walls around lookout posts and along the fronts of the defensive trenches.

This small piece of Hoth was slowly and begrudgingly giving up the shelter and storage they needed to house the rebel forces. Leia watched as one of the robotic bins returned from the main hangar level above, reattaching itself to its digger which immediately resumed cutting.

“Progress is being made Mon Mothma, but perhaps not as fast as we might like. The crews are working nonstop in shifts, but most of the equipment is outdated. They can’t go much faster.” The Princess was nearly shouting to be heard over the noise.

Mon Mothma’s aide, Alia, who had been standing quietly between the two women, took a step back so as not to block the eyeline between the two leaders. The slightly greying, more mature rebel leader responded slowly, carefully selecting her words.

“I have no doubt they are working as quickly as they can, Leia, and I’m sure the base will be completed soon. However; my time here grows short. I must soon return to the rest of the command fleet. Admiral Ackbar has quite a task trying to keep a group of ships that large from being discovered, and there is work still to be done bringing new systems and resources to our cause.”

Leia was watching Mon’s face as she spoke. “There’s something else. Something you’re not saying. What is it?”

The older woman cut her eyes quickly away to the ice shredding machines. “Walk with me, Leia.” She turned to her aide, raising a gentle hand in the air. “A private moment please, Alia? This will only take a moment.”

Alia bowed her head and stepped back, “Of course, milady.” Her eyes followed them as they turned to walk out into the privacy of the hallway.

Thankfully the dim corridor was a bit quieter, affording them a calmer exchange. Mon glanced back into the room to see Alia taking an interest in the cutter machines and talking with the crew. The noise level in the adjacent room was sufficient to cover their conversation anyway. She turned to face Bail Organa’s daughter.

“I hear Commander Skywalker has disappeared again.”

“Mon, I’m aware of this as is General Riek . . . .”

“I know Leia, I know. I do not question your ability to lead, but I am quite concerned with our newest Commander. There is no debating that his actions at the Battle of Yavin saved us all, and the Rebellion. And yes, I know he has left us to further his understanding of the Jedi way.”

Leia cut in, “In order to be a more effective opponent of the Empire.”

Mon Mothma took a few steps away, looking off down the corridor, far away as if looking into another time. She took a moment to draw in a slow breath from the frosty air, and then exhale deeply.

“What troubles me is not his current absence; it is the ghosts of the past that he and his antique Jedi weapon have resurrected within me. It could be brought to bear on us as it once was many years ago against the members of another group. He wields his lightsaber for good, but that weapon has caused more agony, anguish and turmoil than you may realize. Seeing it on our young Commander’s belt raised the hair on the back of my neck, Leia. That name, that weapon; we must be certain. We must be certain of his intentions, and he must be watched closely going forward.”

“His name? Why do you fear him so?” asked Leia. “He was led to us by Obi-Wan Kenobi. Surely he knew what he was doing and was a powerful enough Jedi to see a favorable future with Luke on our side.”

“I have known General Kenobi for many years, and I am confident that he had only our best interests in mind where Commander Skywalker is concerned, but . . . it wouldn’t be the first time he put too much faith in a pupil.”

She dropped her gaze to the ground, again choosing her words very carefully as she danced around the painful truth and past she and Leia’s parents had fought so hard to keep hidden. She mentally worked to bury her thoughts, her emotions. They could be read all too easily.

“Leia, for all that you know of the birth of the Empire and the Rebellion, there is much that you do not. There are only a handful who knew all the entanglements and complexities surrounding the descent of the Republic into the darkness cast by the Empire. Most of those who do are now dead, leaving only myself and one or two others. Trust me when I say it is neither a weight that can be shared with you at the present time, nor a mantle you would want to be burdened with. As a bit of a Force-sensitive myself, I can tell you that the ebb and flow of the Force can pull strongly to dark areas we may not wish to go. Vader and his Emperor are both ruthless and must be stopped at all costs. We cannot risk losing young Skywalker to that dark path. Watch him closely. He could be our salvation, but if he turns . . . he could also be our undoing.”

The last of Mon Mothma’s comments lingered in the air, increasing in weight as the moments passed. Suddenly that silence was interrupted by a hideous roar, immediately followed by screams and blaster fire coming from the room they had just left. Both women turned abruptly to look.

Bright flashes and the sound of more blaster fire was immediately followed by first one, and then several from the ice cutting crew running out of the room into the corridor toward them. Another loud howl echoed off the walls.

The running troops stopped just short of where Leia was standing and turned, dropping to one knee, leveling their blasters. One of the ice cutters ripped off his goggles and turned his red face to the startled women as he powered on his blaster, “There’s ice creatures in there! One of the cutters broke through into a natural ice cave behind one of the walls. When it pulled back to take a look, they came pushing through!”

“Let’s get you both out of here” insisted one of the troopers, attempting to herd Leia and Mon Mothma away to safety.

“Where is Alia?” screamed Mon, wide eyed. “Where is my aide?”

The trooper turned to her grimly, “One of them took her; back into the cave. We tried to stop it, but it grabbed her and was gone. It all happened so fast.”

More howls rolled down the corridor as one of the beasts made its way into the hall. A flurry of blaster fire erupted, bright crimson flashes illuminating the dim space, as the creature howled louder before stumbling to his knees and crashing dead, face-first to the durasteel floor grates.

A second of the huge beasts burst through the opening, followed by a third.

“Retreat!” yelled one of the cutting crew as they stood up and turned to run.

* * *

[Tyranus]

For anyone who has a NOOK or KINDLE e-reader, all chapters to date of The Sandtrooper's Story are now available for either reader in epub and MOBI formats.

If you would like a copy to load up and explore, email thesandtroopersstory@gmail.com and request the version that is right for you.

NOOK = epub

KINDLE - MOBI

[Tyranus]

A little more:

Blade looked quickly to the left, then the right and exited the small room into the hall of the Dowager Queen. Two Jawas leaning against the dusty wall several doors down stopped their jabbering and turned to watch him go, their amber eyes piercing the blackness of their cloaked faces. Their gaze then moved slowly to the still-open door he had come from.

His auburn-haired shadow, ‘Sabela Arlen, slid into the narrow gap between the door and frame he had vacated, watching him go.

As the doors of the turbolift closed with him inside, she silently disappeared behind the closing door of her room; echoes of their brief conversation playing over in her head as she leaned back against the inside of the door. It clicked shut and she locked the heavy bolt. She needed to know more about Kaird and Guri. If they were tailing Blade’s group, she needed more information.

She thought about him again; Ardan Drone, aka Blade. He didn’t want her to follow; he wanted her to be safe. The more she thought about it, the less she could fight the smile creeping across her face. He was worried about her.

She went to the window, leaning toward the pane, her face pushed into the musty, diaphanous curtains that hung to the floor watching. As he walked away into the masses on the sandy street below, a bent, hooded figure bumped into him in the street. Reflexively she jumped, but the stranger retreated immediately, bowing and apologizing. Flipping the safety back on, her hand moved slowly off the grip of her blaster and she relaxed as Blade disappeared into the crowd.

*

The door to our building slid open, and Garindan entered, trailed by a crusty, weathered old man in a hooded cloak with desert wraps covering his body and face, and dark goggles shielding his eyes. Rogue and Felth looked up from their seats at the holonet console, as the door slid shut behind their snitch.

Garindan began speaking in squeaks and squawks as Rogue motioned for him to wait. “Hold on.” He reached inside his helmet, turning on the translator and switching to broadcast speaker mode. He looked back at his Kubaz spy nodding for him to continue.

The translated voice came from the helmet speakers. “I have found your guide, sir. For years he has claimed to have knowledge about the location you seek.” Garindan stepped aside, bringing the man forward.

Rogue looked him over. “Who are you?”

The old man lifted and pushed back his hood, then pulled down the wraps from his face, revealing a leathery, crease and wrinkle-ridden face, and a thick head of stark white hair. He grabbed his goggles, pushing them up into the snowy tangle, revealing two ice-blue eyes that stood out against his dark, tanned skin.

“Most folks around here call me ‘The Sandman’ ‘cause I generally live outside the towns, out in the sand. Why don’t you call me Sandie? It’ll make things easier.”

Rogue stood up. “OK Sandie . . . I’m Rogue. Why don’t you tell me what you know about the place we’re looking for.”

The old man got a twinkle in his eye, and a slight smile crept onto his face; only the very corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “The place you seek hides from everyone.”

He looked off vacantly into a scene from his mind’s eye, a sandscape from somewhere in his past travels.

“It sends instruments reeling, readings spike and fall off, and false headings breed confusion. The first time I found it completely by accident; after a sandstorm. An entrance was revealed to me when the ‘Sea shifted. I quickly noted the rock landmarks, and it’s a good thing, because another storm blew through soon after, covering the entrance I had found while simultaneously revealing another.”

He looked back to Rogue, “The sands both conceal and disclose in their own time, like the swelling waves of a vast liquid ocean rising and falling; those things caught beneath lie patiently; waiting to be discovered.”

Rogue interjected “It has many entrances?”

Sandie nodded. “I told you, it hides. It doesn’t want to be found.” He pulled a small collapsible bladder from his belt and took a drink. “Do you have water for a refill?”

“I’ve got this” said Felth, taking it from the man, and disappearing into the back.

Garindan spoke up, looking toward Sandie. “He’s a little rough, but if anyone knows where this place is, my money is on him.”

Rogue leaned to his right, unlocking a small box on the console. He reached in a pulled out a small wrapped parcel which he then placed in Garindan’s hand. “I think this should catch us up on what we owe you.” The Kubaz eyed the unmistakable package of wrapped spice sticks in his palm.

Felth reappeared, handing the container back to Sandie and taking a seat behind the holonet console.

“Thank you. Oh! It’s cold too!” Sandie looked gratefully over to Felth, then back to Rogue. “I am at your disposal. When do we leave?”

Rogue nodded. “At first light. We were planning on leaving tonight, and get some traveling done at night when it’s cooler, but we’ve had reports of increased Tusken activity once the suns go down, at least around here. Felth here will be air-lifting us to a point out of the city, at the edge of the Dune Sea. We’ll leave from there. Maybe when we get out a bit we can switch to nights.”

Garindan jumped in as he turned to the front door. “I must leave now to bring your pack animals around back and ready them.”

Rogue nodded as the snitch through the front door. As he exited, Holder stepped in, pulling back his hood. Ddraig, Etz and I entered from the back with a crate. Etz released the crate, turning to face the commando. “Hey Holder, you feeling any better?”

He nodded once. “Yeah, much better.”

Rogue flicked his eyes to Holder. “Is Doc here already? I was expecting him shortly, but not this soon.”

Sandie watched with squinting eyes as Holder responded.

“No, I left last night; wanted some time alone before we left. Doc should be here soon though. You said sundown, right?”

Rogue nodded. “Right. This is Sandie. He’ll be our guide for the search.”

Holder looked at the old man, reaching out a hand. Sandie took it, giving a firm shake; his ancient eyelids trembling a bit.

“Is it OK if I get him his gear?” asked Holder.

Rogue nodded. “Sure.”

Holder led Sandie into the back as Ddraig, Etz and I continued loading charged blaster clips into a crate with Topolev keeping count. When we were done, and had sealed the container, Topolev turned and handed the page to Rogue for his inventory.

He was heading toward the bunk room when Rogue stopped him. “Tops, have you seen 4120 or Blade? We’re almost ready and they’re not here.” He handed the count to Felth.

Topolev stopped, turning back to reply. “No, I haven’t seen them.”

Ddraig jumped in, “4120’s with Garindan out back in the courtyard harnessing up the Eopies. Blade said he’d be back soon. One last sweep I guess.”

Rogue nodded, thinking it over for a moment. “OK” remembering that Blade was going to speak to his “shadow”.

*

Tiny blue sparks popped and fizzled inside 4120’s mouth as he quickly re-wrapped the last remaining spice stick in his hand. Several of the Eopie’s grunted. One spit into the sand as it shifted its weight on long legs anxiously. Garindan’s eyes, hidden beneath his black goggles, darted from one side of the courtyard to the other as he secured a buckle on the last animal.

4120’s eyes rolled back in his head a bit, and he leaned back against the half wall of the loading dock, savoring the strong flavor on his tongue and the rush as a wave of chills swept over him. His heart began beating a bit faster and the intolerable itching at his wrist began to slowly subside.

The cloaked snitch took a handful of credits and passed him two more darkly –wrapped packages before disappearing into the shadows. 4120 pulled himself together as he stood up straight, stuffing the spice into an empty belt container. As he did, Falker came out of the narrow, side alley into the courtyard. “Hey, c’mon and grab your gear. Rogue just said Doc and his crew are almost here. We’ve got to figure out a place for them to bed down for the night since our evening departure has been canceled. How many of them are there? I thought maybe we could put them in . . . .”

Falker and 4120 headed out through the narrow alley toward the front door leaving Garindan behind with the animals. Blade watched silently from the shadows across the courtyard. Even the Kubaz spy didn’t notice him.

*

The Emperor sat alone; motionless with eyes closed. He was as still and rigid as the carbonite-entombed captives that populated the macabre garden surrounding him. Behind his closed eyes, a vision began to emerge from the ever-changing clouds that were the future. He saw himself, overseeing a confrontation between Vader and the missing son the Sith Lord sought.

The boy in question, Luke Skywalker, snapped at something his father said, attacking in an anger-fueled rage, driving the Dark Lord back. Lightsabers slashed and sizzled as his apprentice stumbled and fell. Luke aggressively took advantage of this, continuing his attack with a flurry of saber hacks, ultimately severing his father’s sword hand. He held the tip of his blade to Vader’s throat in certain victory as the image began to fade into more clouds.

A smile formed on Palpatine’s warped face as he realized the potential in Luke as a new apprentice; potential he had once seen in Anakin. He cackled in amusement; his evil laughter echoing off the stony walls, glass floor and carbonite slabs. Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen.

Beneath the glass floor of his Carbonite Garden, two Royal Guards in pressurized breathing suits moved carefully over the rocks and around the scattered bodies of dead Jedi until they were directly beneath the Emperor.

One looked up to adjust their position, making sure they could be seen just in front of the throne. When he was sure they were in place, they both knelt with the capsule they carried. On activation, it slid open. The second guard reached in, pulling out an armful of tattered brown cloth. The other guard reached in now, pulling out more brown cloth. Carefully they laid it out on the rocks. Both pieces came together at a clean, burned slice in the center.

Once arranged, it was clear that the cloth was in fact two halves of a heavy, brown hooded cloak. Although a body had not been recovered, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Jedi robes, collected by the recovery team onboard the Death Star were finally a part of the Emperor’s grisly display from the Jedi Purge.

It was at that moment that they saw Lord Vader enter the garden above, walk to the spot directly above them, and come to kneel before his master.

* * *

[Tyranus]

Inside the crumbling ruins of the tiny B’Omarr shrine, backed as far into the corner as he could get, the little blue astromech awaited his master’s return. The extended lifeform scanner, slowly turning back and forth above his dome revealed his master, beyond the stone wall beside him, and several dozen meters below.

The shimmering blue of the Tatooine sky would soon fall victim to the ambers and reds of another blazing decline into the black of night. Recalled memories of another night on Tatooine coursed through the little droid’s processors. Memories of roaming the empty canyons alone in search of a settlement; vivid memories of descending a sloped stone, right up to the instant the hidden Jawas fired the immobilizing ray at him.

His frame shook a bit, and a very slight electronic whimper escaped from somewhere beneath his dome, which now turned nervously, this way and that. If a ‘droid could hope, he was most certainly hoping that Master Luke would return quickly.

Far below, his master carefully followed the stony, descending path in the dim light of Obi Wan Kenobi’s youthful image floating above the activated holocron. The young Alliance Commander gripped the luminous cube in his right hand. In his left was a small leather pouch of tools from his mentor’s home.

Kenobi’s voice echoed off the walls in the still, quiet air, “Continue down this grade and through the opening in the wall ahead.”

Luke stepped beneath the dark stone arch and through the twisted breech in the downed B’Omarr starship’s wrecked hull into the emptiness of the even darker room beyond. The holocron sensed its proximity to a small metallic trigger placed somewhere among the rocks to the left; just where Ben had left it.

The glowing image flickered and fluttered before disappearing, almost immediately replaced with a new and different image of Kenobi. The one that appeared was of a much older Kenobi with white hair and beard, as Luke remembered him.

The image smiled, “Hello Luke. The fact that this recording has been triggered indicates that you have found your way to my training arena.”

Luke reached down into a calf pocket on his flight suit and removed a rescue flare. He twisted the metal end cap, activating it, and stood up straight, raising the brilliant white light high above his head to get a good look around as Kenobi continued.

“I converted this wrecked cargo bay into an instructional space many years ago, when you were still a toddler. I did so with the hope that someday your uncle would allow me to train you as a Jedi. With each passing year, that possibility decreased exponentially as his dislike for, and mistrust of me grew. I will also assume that since my marker triggered this particular recording, and that the holocron has led you here and not me personally, I am gone. Consider this place an extension of my home and the cave. All three are yours to do with as you see fit. Take notice of the cables overhead for balance training. The trees positioned around the arena are Bafforr trees.”

Luke moved the flare to one side and the other, revealing the trees suspended around the room.

“Within their branches live Ysalimari; small creatures that not only shroud themselves and the trees from the Force, they also create an area surrounding themselves that is a deadened zone, where the Force is not rippled or disturbed; effectively concealing a meditating or practicing Jedi within this ring from unwanted detection by others.”

Luke glanced around the room at the trees as the holo continued.

“On the bench to your left are several lightsabers for training. Any one of these should yield parts useful for repairing a hilt.”

Luke wedged the flare between the planks of a large crate beside him and stepped over to the bench, setting down the holocron. Carefully, he unclipped the damaged lightsaber from his belt and placed it gently on the bench. After opening the bag of tools, he reached down to the shelf below for one of the training sabers. They were all the same; the simple hilts nearly smooth except for several small protrusions sticking out as he rolled it over in his hands.

The black grips on the trainer were tightly screwed in place to the metallic tube of the nondescript saber. He nodded approvingly as he glanced over to his own weapon with grips that were quite loose and hopelessly askew.

As he studied the trainer, he noted that it had no glass eye lens and no bubbled activation stud, only two knurled metallic knobs with inset red buttons like the one found on his hilt and a simple circuit board activation sensor strip, but it looked to be part of the clamping collar.

Aside from having a textured band around its center, the clamp was the same as his. There was definitely nothing elegant about it, but he figured it would get the job done if he could simply swap his for this one.

He turned to the patiently waiting holographic image of Kenobi and spoke aloud, “Lightsaber repair.”

Ben’s smiling image retracted into the cube, replaced with detailed schematics as Luke grabbed one of the tools from the bag and set to removing the silver screws from the notched grips.

Hopefully the repairs wouldn’t take very long.

* * *

[Tyranus]

The spiked cleats strapped to Solo’s boots dug in to the sheer face of the ice wall, and he slammed the pickaxe into the frozen slope, pulling his way up the slick trail toward the mouth of the cave. The rest of the search team was below him, beginning their ascent.

Just outside the rough cut opening ahead he could see several soldiers standing guard with rifles drawn and energized; two facing the room, and two facing in toward him. Behind the guards he made out the figures of Leia and Mon Mothma. Both of their faces wore the pallor of extreme concern and worry as they paced; expectantly awaiting his return.

He emerged from the dim passage, breathing heavily from his climb, pulling off his goggles and hood as he stepped into the room. One of the guards shouldered his rifle and offered him a drink of water as he sat down on the idle ice cutter’s treads.

Leia caught his eye, looking for a clue, anything; and for an instant he returned her worried stare with a solemn one that offered no hope. Mon Mothma also saw his expression as he looked up. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as tears fell, realizing Alia was gone.

Han took a breath and began as delicately as he knew how. “We followed every path, every corridor down there, and they’re extensive. We killed several of those things, but there was nothing, no sign of her . . . until we came to the spot where it empties to the outside. There was . . .”

He paused a moment, staring off into space at the image of her mangled remains stained across the ice; staring vacantly at him, and now forever imprinted in his memory.

“There was . . . evidence . . . that she was gone.”

He looked down at the goggles in his hand as Leia comforted Mon Mothma, helping her from the room toward her quarters.

Han exhaled hard. That poor kid didn’t have a chance against those things.

He watched them disappear into the hallway. Several moments later, the rest of the search team emerged from the cave opening. They silently made their way past him, carrying a black body bag. Two of the guards followed them out, and two remained behind.

The Corellian smuggler sat in silence atop the cold tread plates of the ice cutter. All he could see was Alia’s dead face, her vacant eyes open and staring up at him. He had seen more than his share of death over the years. ****, he had looked through the smoke curling from the barrel of his blaster into the dead eyes of many he had helped along their journey to death, but it was always the innocent ones that got to him; the ones in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sound of his heart pounded louder and louder against his eardrums.

A group of techs startled him out of his daze as they entered the room followed by several loader ‘droids. The mechs that brought up the rear were large, lumbering creations and carried large crates of equipment; panels and electronics for installing a locking power door over the jagged mouth of the cave to keep those creatures out. He stood up, goggles in hand as they set to work sealing the opening.

* * *

[Tyranus]

The rear courtyard was now completely submerged in shadow, and Daegan was fuming and muttering under his breath as he stepped from doc’s speeder. “I don’t get it, what’s got us stalled here tonight? Doc was told to be here by sundown, and we all rushed to get here on time.” He checked several straps across their loaded down supply sled.

“It was as much a change for us as for you” I said, watching the heat trails rippling off the speeders’ side thrusters as they wound down. “Rogue told us we were leaving tonight, and then suddenly changed his mind based on some information about increased Tusken activity in the area; raiding parties coming in closer and closer every night. He felt, since we’re traveling with you civilians, it would be safer to set out at first light.”

I turned my head back to him, “We’re not leaving from here anyway. Our drop ship is going to put us on the ground outside of town, at the edge of the Dune Sea. Our guide, Sandie, says there’s a Tusken stronghold not too far out where several Bantha herds are known to gather, and thinks that it should be a good place to begin.”

“Fort Tusken” confirmed Daegan. “I know the place. It dates back about 100 years or so. Some of the settlers from Bestine Township built it and gave the name Fort Tusken to honor the island of Tusken on their homeworld, Bestine IV.”

“A new island in an altogether different sea. So is that one of the places your team is studying?” I asked.

“Yeah” he nodded “but from the surrounding hills with macros. The Sandpeople guard the place pretty fiercely. It’s rumored that in the lower levels it houses a spring-fed pool of water. Whether that’s true or not has yet to be proven. You think this place is desolate now? Back when the settlers were still in control of the fort, they were all alone out here. The Sandpeople attacked and raided it relentlessly, eventually earning them the ‘Tusken Raider’ nickname. ‘Lina knows more about them than I do, though. She was here studying them on her own once before. I’ll let her fill you in on the details. I’d probably get them wrong.”

I stretched my neck to one side and then the other, cracking the stiff vertebrae. “She may be interested in a series of caves we accidentally found out in one of the nearby canyons. They’ve got burial chambers and cave art from some of the earliest Sandpeople, and structures that pre-date even them, going back to the Ghorfa and Kumumgah. At least that’s what we were told by some of the local moisture farmers. I’ll have to show her and the rest of you sometime, maybe when we get back from our little expedition.”

Daegan grinned, almost laughing. “Sandie? Are you kidding me? Sandie? Is that really the guide’s name?”

I concealed any amusement as I responded, nodding my head. “Our snitch, the one who found him for us, says he’s known around here as ‘The Sandman of Tatooine’. The old guy suggested we call him Sandie for short to make things easier. He never did give us a real name. I guess it’s not really important though, as long as he knows where he’s going and how to find what we’re looking for.”

“So, what are you looking for? ‘Lina knows, but she’s not talking.”

Now it was my turn to grin as I dodged his question, “That’s a bigger question than I’m cleared to share right now. C’mon, let’s head inside, the morning’s going to come early. If Rogue gives the OK, I’ll let your whole team know.”

*

Felth nodded, agreeing, “I’ll have the ship ready for the morning, but there’s something wrong with the thrust sequencer on the starboard engine.”

Rogue shook his head as Felth read his silent concern.

“It’ll be ready, but I need to get over to the docking bay to make a few repairs and adjustments and give it a test flight.”

A moment of silence passed, then Rogue gave a nod. “Go ahead. I’ll have 4120 finish the packing out back.”

He paused and Felth turned to go, then he continued. “Just make sure it’s ready to be loaded by dawn. We’ll leave as soon as everything is aboard.”

Felth gave a half-hearted wave of his hand and nodded without turning back as he opened the door, pushing past me and Daegan. Rogue exited the front office, disappearing into the bunk room to find 4120 as I closed the front door. Daegan followed after him and I brought up the rear a few moments later.

Every spare bunk we had in the next room was now occupied, and several bed rolls lay on the floor. ‘Lina and Miren sat on Ddraig’s bunk, fascinated as he worked on the astromech, explaining to them what he was doing and why. ‘Lina was young, probably mid twenties and quite flirty. Miren was in her early thirties and quite attractive, but was clearly an archaeologist and scientist first.

Blade entered the room from the front, moving past me as Daegan sat down and joined Bem, Erek, Doc and Ash in their game of Sabacc. Danz and 1265 stood watching the card game while Zu sat adjacent to them on her bunk, cleaning her field stripped blaster and occasional eyeing the cards in play herself. Blade moved through the crowd, pulling 1265 aside for a brief, private conversation.

Etz, Topolev and Holder were busy packing their gear bags, while Falker and 0600 stretched out on their bunks, relaxing and watching everyone else. Sandie lay on one of the bed rolls in the corner, trying hard to watch the group, but fighting a losing battle with heavy eyelids and sleep. 1265 nodded twice to Blade, then returned to his bunk to grab his helmet and head out through the front.

At about the same moment, 4120, wearing only his black flight suit and boots, entered from the rear store room, heading past me toward the front.

“Hey, is Rogue still back there?” I asked as he passed me.

He looked back quickly, but kept moving, “Yeah but he’s headed down to the cache.”

I watched him disappear through the front door and then noticed Falker also watching him.

“Deck, does he look OK to you?”

“I guess so. Why?”

He shook his head slowly as 0600 cut his eyes over, listening. “I don’t know exactly, can’t quite put my finger on it. I mean he’s usually pretty laid back, but lately he’s looking a little rough around the edges; seems preoccupied and jittery; kinda on edge.”

I looked back toward the front door. “Huh, I hadn’t noticed.”

*

Keeping his distance, so as not to be discovered, 4120 followed Felth through the twisting streets and hallways to the spaceport, watching as he descended the steps to the docking bay below. Something just wasn’t right. There had been nothing wrong with the starboard engine thrust sequencer the last time HE had flown the ship.

Each step he took following Felth down to the bay was taken slowly and deliberately to avoid detection until he could safely watch from behind several cargo containers in the safety of the shadows. Crouched down behind them afforded him a clear view.

Felth glanced up and around the walls of the pit as he opened the maintenance hatch on the side of the engine in question for a quick look. Almost immediately, he pulled his head back out and stepped over to the toolbox, grabbing a small device with coiled cords leading to a probe.

4120 immediately identified it as a sequence analyzer and calibrator, but a puzzled look took over his sweaty face, and he pushed trembling fingers through his disheveled hair as Felth reached back inside the hatch to use the tool.

He appeared to be taking a reading, and making adjustments, then replaced the tool with the others in the box and cut only his eyes up to hovering security ‘droids near the rim of the pit. He closed the access panel and wiping his hands together, disappeared up the boarding ramp into the ship.

4120 heard the power plant come on-line from somewhere within the ship, followed by the engines. They steadily rose in pitch as he rolled the whole situation over in his head. What was Felth up to? He held the swollen, red stump above his cybernetic hand, wincing as a sharp pain shot up his arm. The ship lifted from its landing gear, slowly at first, simply hovering, and then rose with certainty above the rim of the open pit, disappearing into the darkening sky as the main engines engaged.

As Felth slipped away, a perplexed 4120 walked over to the tool box, looking at the tool that had been used. It was clearly marked SEQUENCE ANALYZER/CALIBRATOR, but something was very wrong and 4120 knew it. With shaking hands, he quickly unwrapped a small stick of spice, pushed it in his mouth and bit down hard, crushing it in a shower of blue sparks that spilled out over his lips as he scratched at his infected wrist. The rush was immediate, and the pain in his arm quickly faded away

He had used that same tool before, many times at his post on Ralltiir, but it was for analyzing and calibrating the firing sequence of onboard mounted guns and cannons; it had absolutely nothing to do with engine thrust sequencer calibration on this, or any other ship.

*

[Tyranus]

‘Sabela Arlen, in a black hooded robe, sat motionless in the shadows of the spaceport watching Guri’s ship. The small communicator in her palm began to vibrate. She held it close to her mouth, barely daring to whisper, “Are you in place?”

1265’s voice whispered in response, “I’m in place. Kaird’s ship is looking pretty quiet. You OK?”

Without taking her eyes off the ship, she replied as there was a small movement in the cockpit, “I’m good. Let me know if anything changes, otherwise silence.”

Inside the vessel under surveillance, Guri sat forward in the cockpit to the edge of her seat, positioning her face into the range of the holo-receptor’s scanning beams. She appeared human, and was athletic with strong features. The hologram of a restless figure paced on the console before her. He was a tall, green-skinned Falleen; humanoid in appearance with the subtle, residual features of his ancient reptilian ancestry. A thick topknot of black hair erupted from his otherwise bald head. He turned, looking to one side as Guri began, in a warm, throaty voice.

“Kaird is here, sir. The Port Authority confirmed that his ship is here now.”

He thought carefully, replying slowly at first; surgically selecting his words.

“The conversation”, he paused. “That brief conversation with the Hutt, and the events that followed on that recording must never again see the light of day. Matalla tried to tell me about the Jedi, but I silenced him. He tried to warn me that the Jedi he had seen carried with him an infant, and how uncharacteristic that was for a Jedi. I couldn’t be bothered with his observations of some warrior refugee; that was the obsession of the Emperor’s new Dark Lord.”

He took a few steps, lowering his gaze, but still staring off into nothing, as if once again visiting that dark hallway in his mind.

“I had no way of knowing then, but I now believe that the Jedi he saw was Kenobi, and the child mentioned grew to be mentored in the Jedi way, and went on to obliterate Tarkin and his Death Star.”

His eyes darted from side to side. “If that were to be revealed to Vader; if Kaird were to recover that recording and present it to the Dark Lord, all of Black Sun’s contracts that I worked so hard to negotiate would be finished, and the Emperor’s servant would hunt me relentlessly.”

He turned to look squarely at her now, his perfect white teeth gleaming as he spoke.

“If Kaird locates that recording first, he’ll destroy me with it. He’ll be searching alone, though; he won’t involve the Hutts. He can’t afford to bring them into it. I thought I was rid of this concern long ago, but now he’s determined to dig up the past for his own gain. You know what must be done where Kaird is concerned.”

She nodded, “And what of the Imperial troops also searching for it? How should they be dealt with?”

He looked off again, “Even if they make the find, they may not know the full extent of what they have beyond the evidence of murder, but that’s a chance I am not willing to take.”

He turned back to her again. “That recording can never leave Tatooine, Guri, are we clear?”

The blonde-haired human replica ‘droid stared back with pale and clear blue eyes. “Clear as Adegan crystals, Prince Xizor.”

His holographic image dissolved, and she took a deep breath, mimicking human behavior beautifully.

*

“Yes R2, I was able to fix it this time, but you need to be more careful.”

The little ‘droid gave a sheepish groan of apology as they made their way down to the X-wing fighter below. It sat waiting, atop a flat stone clearing at the base of the canyon.

“C’mon around here R2, and I’ll quick-charge the repulsor packs so we can get you loaded in and . . .”

His sentence broke mid-stream as he noticed a figure dressed in black leaning against his boarding ladder. He reflexively unclipped his newly restored lightsaber, igniting it. The milky blue blade flashed out from the hilt, illuminating his face and arm in the dim twilight of the canyon; the low rumbling snarl of the energy beam cutting through the silence between them.

The dark figure stood up straight, but drew no weapon. Luke listened as he strained in the dim light to see; there was no cold, mechanical breathing; it was not Vader.

Suddenly it spoke, “I’m not armed. I was hoping to meet you. You are Skywalker, right?”

The voice was not menacing or threatening. Luke stood in silence, wondering who could have known he was here, let alone his name. He did not reply, allowing the silence to stand as he waited for more information. R2 whimpered slightly.

“I received a holonet message from ‘BASE ONE’ advising that you were on-planet. They gave me the coordinates to locate your ship. I’m the one that’s been funneling information to you and the rebellion.”

He paused for just a second and stepped forward into the saber’s glow as he continued. Luke lowered his blade slightly, looking the other man in the eyes.

The figure took another step closer, staring back at him.

“My name is Davin Felth.”

* * *

[Tyranus]

It was deep in the murk of a dense mental haze that 4120, quite certain he was falling to his death, suddenly jolted awake. His arms reflexively splayed out wide back to the stone wall he sat against; his wild eyes and rapid breathing conveyed the terror of the very real sensation.

His disjointed mind raced, trying to make sense of the mental clutter in his head, trying to determine just how much time had elapsed since he had ingested the Spice stick. Like some synchronized, mechanical stamping tool, the blood pounding rhythmically through his brain created small flashes of light, strobing in the darkness behind his now closed eyelids.

From out of the darkness of the courtyard, the wide, rough tongue of one of the Eopies licked the side of his face from jaw to hairline as it lowered its head to inspect. 4120 leaned forward suddenly, reaching for his mouth as his stomach spasmed involuntarily and he vomited into the sand. The animal jerked its head away suddenly, disturbed by the abrupt sound, and the foul smell that followed. It watched as the trooper wiped his mouth and stood up, staggering; moving slowly closer to the supply sleds.

He looked around. Somehow before blacking out from the Spice rush, he must have made his way back to base and finished packing the supplies. He glanced skyward noting the blackness and stars. It’s still night, he thought to himself.

Mustering all the strength and balance possible, he took the stairs up to the loading dock and opened the back door to the barracks. Quietly he navigated his way through the tangle of sleeping bodies to his bunk and rolled in. As his eyes fell closed again, he noticed Felth lying in his bunk asleep; it registered on some level in his spinning brain, and he quickly descended into a deep sleep.

* * *

Deep in the bowels of the Star Destroyer, Seether, a unit of Stormtroopers files into the cramped ships’ armory to replace damaged gear and replenish supplies.

As they enter the small room, several remove their 02 tanks and wait in a line to refill them.

One trooper, helmet in hand, moves past this group directly to the repair counter and strikes up a conversation with the technician, pointing to damaged thermal imaging sensors inside his helmet.

Another sizes himself for a new pair of boots.

One sits on a bench, emptying his damaged utility belt and transferring its contents to a new belt. As he pulls out his med kit, a small datacard drops to the deck plate. He bends over to pick it up, and holds it to the light. It is cracked, in a spiderwebbed pattern with the smeared words “Base one” on it. His mind flashes back to the jungles of Yavin IV.

He remembered bending down during the assault on the rebel base to pick up a dropped clip from the ground. It was then that he noticed the datacard, stuck in the crack between two of the metal floor grates. He remembered the smell of the explosions, the smoke, the screams and the smeared label which read “Base One”. It had been stepped on and crushed; fractured in a splintered, spiderwebbed pattern. He remembered tucking it into his utility belt.

Turning the card over in his hand, he looked up, thinking a moment. Then, he gathered up his new belt and supplies, hastily leaving the room. As he rushed along a busy hallway, he passed a group of officers, then turned back, holding up the card and addressing the group.

“Sir, I found this when we infiltrated the rebel’s base on Yavin. I forgot to turn it in when I got back, but it could be helpful. Can you pass it along?”

One of them turned back, looking his way as the other officers in his group went on without him. He took the datacard, his eyes never leaving the trooper. He was annoyed at both the interruption and being left behind by his peers. “I’ll see it’s looked into.”

* * *

In a relatively quiet portion of the Expansion Region, following a course composed of short, zigzagging hyperspace jumps, the rebellion’s ‘Renegade group’ pushes on toward Hoth. Their mission is simple: escort the transport of two Ion Cannons and the Praetor-class ship reactors to power them safely to Hoth.

From somewhere further back in the convoy, a voice crackles in Commander Narra’s headset.

“Renegade Leader, this is Renegade Two.”

“I copy Renegade Two, go ahead.”

“Sir, one of the two transport ships is reporting a critical energy bleed from her port engine. The crew leader of the Allantrid says the containment shielding has failed completely. They’ve had to evacuate the area and are being forced to shut down the reactor and engine. Unless they can stop long enough to make repairs, they won’t be able to limp along fast enough to keep up with us.”

“We’re already out beyond the fringe of this system’s inhabited regions” replied Narra. “Ask them if they think they can make it to Derra IV. We’ve got an outpost there. It’s not much more than a storage dump, but the techs on the orbital platform should be able to fix the shielding problem.”

The comm went silent.

The Commander broke from his lead position in the formation, rolling his X-wing to the right. He came around, peering through the transparisteel of his canopy, across the empty gulf of space to face the damaged transport.

A crackle came through his headset as Renegade Two patched him through directly to the crew. He heard a somewhat garbled message, filled with electronic distortion and transmission static.

“Affirmative, Renegade Leader, Allantrid should be able to make Derra IV.”

“Copy that, Allantrid. Renegade Two let’s get them an escort detail. The rest of us will move on ahead and alert the station.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

The blinding brightness of the day flooded into the rear of the open drop ship. Even though still quite hot by human standards, the temperatures of the Tatooine days and nights had begun their annual decline, signaling the beginning of the harvest and the advent of winter on this Outer Rim planet. To see the rippling waves of heat rising from the brilliant, lifeless sand at the bottom of the loading ramp, one might find that hard to believe, but the planet that had already proven to each of us that it’s heat was harsh and unforgiving, was gearing up to reveal a second, ugly face that was just as brutal.

Most everyone else had unloaded, but Doc was still strapped into his harness, sitting in one of the folding, metal jump seats along the side bulkhead of the drop ship. He pulled a heavily worn pair of desert goggles from his pack and was busily wiping the dirty crimson lenses. Zu noticed what he was doing and walked over to sit beside him.

She grabbed her newer-looking goggles with the blue lenses, and pulled them off her eyes, dragging them up to rest on her forehead as she eyed the old ones in doc’s hands.

“How long have you had those antiques?” she asked.

He gave her a silent glance as he adjusted the straps, pulling them a bit tighter across the back of his silvery hair. Fuzzy eyebrows spilled this way and that over the red lenses as he slid them into place, working them down on his eyes to a comfortable spot, adjusting the side blinders.

He glanced around and then leaned in close to her. “I didn’t have any, so . . .” He paused a moment, looking around again and finally back into her eyes. “I kinda borrowed them from Watcher’s personal effects.”

A mischievous smile formed on her face as she stood up, staring back down at him.

“Well . . .” she began, patting him gently on the shoulder. “He won’t be needing them, I don’t think.”

Doc smiled back at her as he cinched the top of his pack closed and stood up. Falker and Danz pushed past them, maneuvering one of the overloaded supply sleds down the ramp to the sand, followed closely by Topolev and Ddraig pushing another.

Doc and Zu followed them out of the relative comfort afforded by the shady interior of the ship and stepped out into the sand, walking over to the others in the archaeological team. Falker, Topolev and 0600 had hitched the Eopies to the repulsor sleds and lined them up, readied to move out.

Felth and Rogue walked down from the cockpit and out from within the ship, down to the edge of the ramp. “I’ll be on call if you need an emergency pick-up, supplies, and when you find the recording.”

Rogue nodded, looking out into the bleaching sunslight through squinted eyes as Felth returned to the cockpit. The first trickle of perspiration ran down the side of his face. He stepped off into the sand, as he adjusted the settings on his pack. Moments later, as he walked toward the others, a cooling wave coursed through his black body glove.

The wide ramp lurched and slowly closed behind him as the engines came online. The drop ship lifted silently away from the blistering sand on repulsor power, then pulled away as Felth engaged the main drive.

Rogue turned to watch until the accelerating ship was gone from sight, heading back to base. He unclipped the personal memo recorder from his belt and held it to his mouth, pressed the record switch and hesitated momentarily. Clicking off the recorder, his eyes moved over the baked sands stretching out in all directions as far as he could see. Finally, they came to rest on the archaeologists and his guide, none of whom he knew or trusted fully.

He pressed the recorder’s activation button again as he looked over to the rest of us.

“What the **** have I gotten us into?”

*

[Tyranus]

Our crusty guide chewed the last bit of his lunch and swallowed. From the shade beneath the makeshift canopy of fabric of his outer wrap, his ice-blue eyes moved slowly over both teams. The troops were gathered in a small circle, as were the archaeologists.

His tongue moved over his teeth, working loose the small pieces of food stubbornly caught in them. Neither the troops, nor the diggers was intentionally excluding the other; they simply seemed to naturally gravitate toward those of their own.

Miren and “Lina sat with their backs to a supply sled and had followed his lead, constructing small shade canopies above their heads. He nodded approvingly.

Temperatures out here on the ‘Sea varied by 10 – 15 degrees between direct sunslight and shade. By removing the overhead sunslight, they had removed one of the four ways they were being bombarded by heat: overhead direct sunslight, heated winds, heat reflected from the sand, and the heat of contact with the sand itself. Reducing even one of these would reduce their need for water, and on an open-ended search like this, that could prove helpful.

The traveling so far had been both difficult and demanding, tapping the strength of each in the group, likely leaving them more exhausted than they might have imagined possible even a day ago. The ‘Sea was blistering and merciless, with no natural shade to be found anywhere.

I glanced around the resting caravan and off to a small stony outcropping to our right. Contrary to what I had previously believed to be true about this barren wasteland, every now and then we came across sporadic clumps of coarse scrub vegetation.

In a bit of forced conversation earlier in the day, our guide had said the near invisible path we were taking was a Bantha migration trail. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was probably right. The little bit of brush had most likely sprouted from seeds left behind along the trail in dropped Bantha dung. Unfortunately, the woody scrub grew very low to the ground with few leaves and no shade to speak of.

Sandie took a small sip of water from his belt canister as Rogue walked over to him, asking “Do you have a feel for when we’ll pick up a trail?”

The white-haired old man plugged the water canister, replacing it on his belt. “We’ve been on a trail since we left the drop ship” he said with a grin. “It’s a less traveled path than most, but it’ll lead us to Fort Tusken where we’ll find the major trail we need.

Topolev and 0600 walked up beside Rogue as Sandie continued, turning to look their way. “I’ve been to the boneyard before.” He tapped his temple. “It’s in here. Don’t worry, I’ll get you there.”

Tops rolled his eyes as he turned and walked away from the old man.

As he did, 0600 stepped closer and took a pinch of Mandalorian Sweetgrass from a pouch on his belt, shoving it between his front lower teeth and lip. “How far is it, would you say? How many dead Banthas do you figure we’ll find once we get there?” He worked the Sweetgrass into place with his tongue.

He and Rogue listened as Sandie squinted a bit, closing one eye completely against the bright sunslight. “It’s nowhere near a complete crossing of the ‘Sea, but several days’ journey into her heart nevertheless.”

The weathered desert dweller motioned an extended finger toward an outcropping of stone thrust up from the sand out near the horizon. Rippling waves of heat rising up from the ground made the distant stone joggle and dance like mountains in a dream.

“We’ll make it to Fort Tusken before sunsdown. It’s near the base of those hills” he said. “The boneyard itself is littered with the gleaming white bones and decaying carcasses of several thousand Bantha; fallen beasts in the cavern as far as you can see, from countless generations. Don’t worry, I’ll know it when I see it; or more precisely, when I feel it.” He tapped the center of his chest. “When I feel it.”

0600 spit into the sand, looking toward Rogue, “I imagine with that many rotting Banthas around, we’ll know it ‘when we smell it’.”

Rogue grinned, turning to call out to everyone in the group. “Let’s move out!”

As the collection of voyagers stood up and readied themselves and the animals to set out again, Falker grabbed the reigns of one Eopie, leading it around to one of the sleds for harnessing. As he looked back at the animal, he noticed a bright glint flash out from the sand some distance behind their procession. He pulled off his goggles and looked with his naked eyes.

I stopped and looked back to where his eyes were trained. “What is it?”

He blinked twice, staring hard behind us, trying to see the thing again, then he turned to me. “I could’ve sworn there was something there, but I don’t see it now. I guess it was nothing, Deck. This damned heat must have me seeing things.”

I looked back in the direction he’d been staring as he walked off with the Eopie and Rogue came over to me.

“What was that about, Deck?”

I flashed him a brief look and cut my eyes back to the distant sand, pointing with my right hand extended toward the horizon. “Falker said he saw a small flash of light back there, just for a moment.”

Rogue looked in the direction I indicated. “I’ll get on the comm to 1265 and make sure our Nediji assassin is still on or near his ship.”

I nodded as I walked away. “Good idea.”

Rogue gave the distant sand another look, then swept his stare slowly across the sands to the right and left.

*

[Tyranus]

It was later that afternoon that Engedi Etz, walking alongside Danz at the rear of our column, stopped walking momentarily. He turned back to look where we had been, only to see our tracks trailing off toward the horizon, disappearing entirely about halfway there; filled in and swept smooth by the abrasive ground spray constantly blowing over the ground.

He turned and hurried to catch up with Danz. When he did, he found it hard to contain his thoughts. “You know, when you cruise past places like this on a destroyer, you really can’t appreciate the size or scope of what’s below you. It’s so silent and still from out there; serene even.”

“I know what you mean” said Danz. “When I left Bestine IV I was amazed at how calm it all looked from above, so beautiful like a gleaming, blue jewel. You’d never guess the violent oceans on the surface were constantly pitching and rolling, with waves crashing into what little solid ground there was; you’d never even begin to think about all the life and danger in the waters of that blue planet.”

He stopped walking and stooped down, grabbing a handful of sand. “You know what I’ve noticed?” He spread his gloved fingers apart, allowing the sand to drain between them, pouring to the ground in three smooth streams.

Etz shook his head as Danz looked back from the horizon to the spilling sand. “There are no animal shells in this sand.”

Etz looked at the sand around them as Danz continued.

“Either this planet never had any water and aquatic life on it, or anything that was once here has been completely broken down and pulverized by the sheer power of the moving sand.” He stood up.

Etz looked back out over the dunes. “You know, our run in with that Sandperson, and all the bones we saw in that cave got me thinking. After we got back from rescuing those kids from the crash in Beggar’s Canyon, I read up on Tatooine’s history a little. It said long ago there were vast oceans and a jungle over most of the surface.”

Danz looked around at the barren dunes in every direction.

Etz continued, “Hard to believe, I know, but the jungle was inhabited by the native and technologically advanced Kumumgah. At some point, the Rakatan Infinite Empire invaded the planet, conquering and enslaving the Kumumgah. Eventually, they rebelled and managed to drive the Rakata off planet. Unfortunately, their victory was short-lived.

In retaliation, the orbiting Rakata ships subjected the planet to a bombardment that boiled away the oceans, and "glassed" the remaining surface. It basically fused the silica in the soil into glass. Subjected to the high winds, the glass broke up over time into sand. Very little of the original moisture remains. The utter destruction and resulting climate change split the indigenous Kumumgah into two races: the Ghorfas, or ancestors to the modern day Sandpeople, and what we know today as Jawas.”

“Huh.” said Danz throwing the last of the sand down. Without another word, he and Etz hurried to catch up with the group.

Rogue walked just ahead of them with 4120, trying to reach 1265 on a commlink but having no luck.

“Still no answer?”

Frustrated, Rogue turned to his XO as he clicked off the comm. “No, and now this thing needs charging.” He relaced it on his belt.

4120 thought a moment as they walked. “Well, 1265 is watching Kaird. Maybe he can’t respond without compromising his location. When we stop for the night, I’ll set up the fusion generator so you can get a charge, then you can call Felth and have him go check 1265 at the spaceport in person and report back.”

Rogue nodded. “Good plan.” He looked behind, noting the same disappearing footprints Etz had just seen. “Something’s just not right. I have a bad feeling about it.”

*

The mountains that marked Fort Tusken’s location had grown steadily larger as our day wore on. We were drawing close when ‘Lina called for help from the end of the procession. “Doc! Doc, we need your med kit and some water. Erek just collapsed.”

The old man gripped the bag’s straps stretched across his chest as he turned back and ran toward them. ‘Lina moved aside as he reached them. With one foot, Doc dug a rut in the sand and knelt in it beside Erek. He pressed his hand on the boy’s forehead and felt at his neck for a pulse. “Clear a space here to lay him down. Dig it down about as deep as the rut where I’m kneeling, the sand is cooler there.”

‘Lina began scooping sand aside and Bem dropped down beside her to help. As they finished, Zu crouched down, grabbing Erek’s feet as Daegan helped Doc move his upper body into the cooler spot. I knelt down at the boy’s head with a container of cool water. Doc untied the loose wrap around his own neck and head, soaking it with the water. Then he placed it on Erek’s face and neck, moving it around slowly to cool and dampen his skin. The others sat Erek up slightly as I poured a small sup of water. Doc took it from me, trickling a small bit into the boy’s mouth. His moistened tongue moved a bit, and he began speaking deliriously in unrecognizable words and phrases.

Doc stripped off his own outer robe as he addressed the group that had gathered. “Give him some shade. Take this and block the suns.”

We all stood up, grabbing a place on the garment, stretching it out taut to create a shadow that fell across them both. Doc gave Erek another small sip of water, immediately noting the cooling effect of the shade.

As we continued taking care of Erek, Sandie pushed ahead to the top of the next dune. He caught sight of something ahead and ducked down suddenly, falling flat to the sand; careful to remain hidden behind the ridge line. He slowly raised his head up to peer over the dune’s crest.

In the valley beyond lay the exposed base of the jagged, towering hills. Between us and them sat Fort Tusken.

* * *

[Tyranus]

A small group of freighters, loosely assembled in an unmoving cluster, lay adrift far above a massive green and blue planet smeared with dense white and grey clouds. A squadron of snubship fighters drifted between them with engines off. A short distance from them, a lone freighter, the ALLANTRID, sat at a full stop after having limped a fair distance to reach the orbital platform she was now moored alongside.

From the far side of the platform, a lone X-wing fighter suddenly appeared from within the black as it reverted from hyperspace. Immediately upon its appearance, the engines of all ships in the fighter squadron roared to life, propelling half of them away from the freighters to intercept the inbound ship, and maneuvering the remaining half into a defensive posture around them.

As they approached it, a voice sounded in their headsets from the newcomer’s fighter. “Commander Narra, this is Commander Skywalker. Rieekan informed me of your status and asked that I check on your situation as I passed near the system.”

A moment later Narra’s voice came over the comm. “Renegade flight, stand down. I repeat, stand down. Nice to hear from you Luke! We’ve got a freighter undergoing repairs that shouldn’t take much longer. We could use another set of eyes and sensors if you’ve got the time, we’re pretty vulnerable sitting out here.”

“Roger that, Commander. I’ll stay with you until you are clear to continue on.” Luke maneuvered his ship toward the other fighters and cut his engines, drifting slowly into their formation. R2 electronically mumbled his disapproval.

Orbiting silently and invisibly, deep in the haze and ionic distortion of Derra IV’s upper atmosphere, a small ship took notice of the gathering.

* * *

Taking advantage of a brief reprieve from the storms that had raged across the frozen surface of Hoth, Mon Mothma ambled through the defensive trenches roughly cut into the snow and ice outside the base.

The seemingly endless wailing of the winds had finally given way to still, clear blue skies and sunlight. The spiked deck plates beneath her boots had been dropped haphazardly into all of the trenches, creating a more stable path than the bare snow and ice afforded. Rebel troops hurried around her, moving supplies, guns and energy cables to key positions along the trench and to the many turret gun arrays that made up the outer defenses.

Her personal guard detail trailed silently behind, noticing that today she was more disconnected than usual, quieter; more distant. Although fairly young, Alia had been her aid for years and had not only known the duties her position required, but also the proper manner and behavior required among any dignitaries she might encounter. The guards mourned the loss of her as well.

Alia was so young. So much loss and pain had been endured by so many. Darkness had somehow wormed its way in, rotting the core of the Senate; choking out everything the Republic had been. She suddenly realized how quiet it was. All the troops had moved on to forward areas and were gone; she was alone in the trenches, staring out across the ice fields. The Emperor must be stopped, she thought. If he and Vader had built one station capable of destroying planets, they could build more, if they hadn’t already.

Tears streamed down her face, burning on her cheek in the frigid air as the faces of her friends Bail and Breha appeared in her mind’ eye, both gone in an instant along with the rest of Alderaan, while their daughter watched helplessly.

Mon continued to wander ahead of the guards, openly weeping now.

*

Inside the base, Yané walked the frozen corridors in search of the princess. Their meeting had been both abrupt and awkward, and she feared the wrong first impression had been made. She sensed something between Leia and Solo, and did not want to in any way be seen as an obstacle.

She made a turn into a dim hall lined with doors on one side. As she moved through the narrow corridor, she heard music flowing from within one of them. It stopped her in her tracks; the sudden recognition. She closed her eyes, listening as she turned back toward the door. It was the unmistakably beautiful strains of the Royal Anthem of Alderaan.

She retraced her steps and knocked softly on the door, waiting for a response. The music played on and she heard no movement from within. She knocked again, harder this time. Almost immediately the music fell silent, after which the door opened slightly.

Torynn Farr’s face appeared in the narrow crack of the open door. It was obvious from her puffy face and red eyes that she had been crying. “I’m sorry, did the music disturb you?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Said Yané, pausing briefly. “Did you have friends there? On Alderaan?”

Fresh tears fell down Torynn’s cheeks. “Family” she sobbed. “My entire family was there, my whole world. I was off-planet on my way to Talasea when . . .” she hesitated. “When it happened.”

The retired royal handmaiden from Naboo took a shallow breath, giving a moment of silent solemnity to the memory of those lost and then reached out, gently wiped Torynn’s tears from her face. “I can still remember hearing that music for the first time, as a child. My father was a diplomat, and had brought my mother and me along on one of his many trips to Alderaan. He said he wanted to expose me to its rich art and culture.”

She closed her eyes briefly. “I can still smell the sweetness of the air; hear the anthem as the royal procession made its way through the streets, open for all to see. I could feel the energy that emanated from the people and indeed, the very planet itself. I returned many times over the years both in a business capacity and for pleasure, spending days wandering the capital city, taking in the architecture and art. I mourn it from a different place, but mourn it all the same.”

She could see the pain across Torynn’s face. “You know dear, I know someone who shares your personal attachment and loss; someone here in this base. The Princess Leia Organa has been a secret leader of the Alliance for some time now. She lost her entire family as well, and is the last member of the royal house of Alderaan. I was actually looking for her when I heard the music. I know she shares your pain, and probably hasn’t allowed herself to grieve, or hear that sweet anthem in some time. Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll find her together?”

Torynn nodded as she wiped away the last of her tears. She disappeared for a moment, quickly returning with her parka. Yané put her arm around the young girl’s shoulders and closed the door as they walked away in search of the princess.

* * *

Beneath the endless depths of the black, star-filled Tatooine night, Falker and Topolev lay flat out on the sand, each with a set of macrobinoculars, peering over the crest of the dune they lay on. The lenses rotated back and forth slightly, moving in and out with the hushed whirring of tiny electric motors, as they worked to focus on the guards stationed just outside Fort Tusken.

Topolev noticed that with this closer look, the outer shell of the Tusken head wraps was pretty grotesque. The bandages that wrapped their heads were dry-rotted, tattered and frayed from years in the harsh Tatooine elements and obscured any direct view of the creatures beneath. He lowered his macros, looking down toward the fort with his own, unaided eyes. “I think Rogue was right, to set camp where we did.”

Falker nodded slightly as he replied, still looking at the electronic image in the eyepieces of his macros. “With Erek trying to get his strength back, and us being this close to the Fort, it made sense for Sandie to suggest it to him. Tomorrow morning we’ll have to keep a close watch on that herd, though.” He pointed to the far right corner of the Fort where they were gathered. Tops looked in that direction, nodding in agreement as Falker switched off his binoculars and slipped them back into their case.

“Now it’s up to them” said Topolev. “Somehow I never imagined the course of a mission would be directed by following a herd of Bantha.”

Falker grinned a little as he pushed himself up to his knees. “It’s time for Ddraig and Blade to take over watch for us. I’ll go back and send them up to relieve you.”

Topolev nodded as Falker stood up and headed back to the group, leaving him alone on the dune.

*

[Tyranus]

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