LOCATION: AN UNNAMED PLANETOID DEEP WITHIN THE UNKNOWN REGIONS

The crumbling, mountaintop fortress had stood silent for hundreds and hundreds of years. No longer. Now, after all that time, it once again murmured with sinister life...

Within, the adjutant known as Grik walked briskly through dank, ancient corridors, his footfalls echoing sharply. Eventually his path brought him to a circular, shadow-filled chamber. Across the room, barely visible in the gloom, was a throne. Grik stepped into the center of the room, smoothed his graying hair, and bowed.

"You summoned me, my lord?" he said.

"Indeed," a gravelly voice intoned from the darkness enshrouding the throne. "Have you any word on phase one of our plan?"

"It was just as you anticipated, master," Grik said. "The deaths of Luke and Mara Skywalker have thrown the Jedi Order into chaos. Those who aren't dashing about following false trails to find you, are too busy bickering over choosing new leadership for the Order."

"Excellent," his master said. "I--wait, did you feel that?"

Grik frowned. "What, sir?"

"A tremor in the Force. I think something momentous has just happened. I see...I see...plaid."

"If you say so, my lord."

"You sound skeptical. You doubt my evil vision?" A note of displeasure had entered his master's tone.

Grik shrugged. "Are you sure it's not just gas?"

Force lightning crackled menacingly about the figure on the throne. Had Ben Skywalker been there, he would have been shocked to see his soon-to-be-nemesis in that flickering light. Grik, however, was used to his master's...unusual appearance, and simply waited.

"You try my patience, lackey," his master growled.

Grik sighed. "My lord, we've been over this. I'm not a lackey--I'm a minion. It's a subtle distinction, to be sure, but..."

"Enough!" The lightning vanished, plunging the room into darkness again. After a moment, the voice returned. "What of phase two? Are the droids ready, yet?"

"Droid production is proceeding on schedule, my lord. The Puppy-Kicker 5000 series will be ready for deployment within the week."

"Gooooood. When they're ready, I want units sent to Naboo, Coruscant and Tatooine. They'll demoralize our foes even more, paving the way for my conquest of the New Repub--, er, Galactic F--...what *are* they calling themselves, these days?"

Grik consulted his datapad. "That would be....'Saskatchewan', my lord."

"Saskatchewan? *Saskatchewan*?! Who in their right minds would name *anything*--Bah! Nevermind! All that matters is that history will record that it was I who brought Saskatchewan to its knees!" His master started to cackle.

Grik surrpetitiously glanced at his chrono. The cackling fits could sometimes go on for hours; good thing he'd remembered to set the recorder to tape Gil Iggan's Asteroid...

PART FOUR

TATOOINE: DUNE SEA

The landspeeder skimmed over the shifting sands, Corran at the controls, Ben sitting beside him, the ancient lightsaber clipped to his belt.

"--and that's why Ewoks frequently eat their own young," Corran finished saying.

"That's awful!" Ben said. "And here I thought they were so cute and cuddly."

Corran shrugged. "Circle of life, man."

They rode in silence for a time.

"So," Ben finally said. "What's the plan?"

"Well, when we get to Mos Eisley I'll put in a few calls to see if there's been any progress on the investigation. Then we'll head for Coruscant."

"Your wife picking us up?"

"Yeah." Corran raised a warning finger. "But whatever you do, don't mention anything about me being your father."

"Hey, I'm still not sure *I* believe that part of it. I take it you didn't tell her yet?"

"Are you insane?" Corran said. "Her father has a Star Destroyer."

"Ah." Ben frowned, pointing at a brown smudge on the horizon. "What's that?"

Corran peered ahead. "Looks like a sandstorm. Don't worry, we should be able to outrun it."

An hour later, with the winds beginning to howl and the storm looming before them, Corran ventured, "Okay, maybe we won't be able to outrun it."

"You think?" Ben asked dryly.

"We'll have to set up a shelter." Corran pointed to a craggy outcrop of rock not too far away. "That should do."

They parked the speeder near the outcrop, grabbed the emergency shelter kit from the vehicle's gear pack and set it up next to the rocks. They huddled inside, as the winds grew from a howl to a shriek.

"Hey, this is just like camping," Ben said. "Wanna make s'mores?"

"Not really, no."

"C'mon! Graham crackery goodness!"

"No, really, I can't."

"But--"

"Listen!" Corran snapped. "My mother died from s'more overdose, okay? And she passed that addiction on to me. I can't afford to fall off the wagon again. The last time, people died. So many thousands died..."

Ben shifted awkwardly. "Sorry. Didn't mean anything by it."

"No, no, it's all right," Corran said, waving it away. "I'm sorry I yelled. Not your fault."

After a pause, Ben ventured, "Ghost stories?"

Corran mulled it, then shrugged. "Yeah, okay."

Another hour passed, then two. Finally, the fury of the storm passed by.

Ben clambered outside, blinking at the bright sunlight and stretching as Corran emerged behind him. The skies were clear and blue again.

And the speeder was gone.

"What the hell?!" Corran said.

"Maybe the wind blew it away?" Ben ventured.

"Wind that strong would have blown us away, too."

"Maybe someone stole it? You did leave the keys in."

"Who could possibly steal a landspeeder in the middle of a storm like that?"

INTERLUDE:

Miles away, a trio of teenaged Jawas drove Corran's speeder full bore over the sands, whooping and hollering.

"WHOOOOOOOOO!" one of them shouted, mooning a lone Tusken Raider as they streaked past him.

The Tusken watched them dwindle into the distance, and shook his head. "Damn kids..."

END INTERLUDE

"Okay, what now?" Ben asked. "Wait. You can just call Mirax on the comlink, and she'll come pick us up, right?"

"Um...well...no."

"No?"

"I sort of...left my comlink on the speeder."

"Oh, perfect," Ben said, throwing up his hands.

"How do you think I feel?" Corran said. "That speeder was a rental. This is going to cost me a fortune!"

"So you're telling me that we're stuck in the middle of the Dune Sea, no food, no water, no communications?"

"When you put it like that, you make it sound so bad." Corran clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Ben. We're Jedi. Let's pack up the shelter and start walking. We'll be fine."

But Ben had a very bad feeling about this.

Days passed, as they trudged across the endless dunes. They did most of their travelling at night, shivering against the aching cold, and rested in the emergency shelter during the day. Not that it protected them much from the blazing suns. Ben found himself growing dehydrated, hungry and weak far faster than he would have expected. Even calling on the Force couldn't replenish him that much. He could see Corran was having similar troubles.

It was just past dawn on the fifth day, when Ben and Corran stumbled to the top of a dune. Ben hoped, as he always did, that beyond it would lie a settlement, a moisture farm, hell, even a sandcrawler. But there was nothing but more sand stretching to the horizon, already hazy with heat.

"Let's get the shelter up," Corran said in a weary tone. "Over near that other dune."

Ben turned to him, and blinked in surprise. Where Corran had been standing was now a Corran-sized nerf steak, with celery stalks for arms and breadsticks for legs.

"What?" the steak said in Corran's voice. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Drooling, Ben began to reach for his lightsaber, moving slowly so as not to scare the steak away.

"Ben?" A celery stalk slapped Ben across the face. "Snap out of it!"

The steak was suddenly gone, and now Corran stood before him again. Ben almost wailed with loss.

"Quit playing around," Corran said. "We've got work to do."

They quickly built the shelter, and Ben drifted off into a listless sleep as the day grew hotter. After awhile he found himself dreaming that he was being pulled along the ground, while guttural grunting voices sounded all around him. It took his addled mind a moment to realize that it wasn't a dream. His eyes snapped open and he sat up with a startled cry. He and Corran were now outside the tent, Corran still snoring. And Ben found himself facing at least a dozen Tusken Raiders, their gaffi sticks suddenly hovering mere inches from his face. Ben regarded them all in silence.

"Well," he finally said. "This pretty much sucks..."

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