Star Wars_ Children of the Jedi - Barbara Hambly [178]
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TATOOINE
CHAPTER 1
The banthas plodded in single file, leaving only a narrow trail of scuffed footprints across the dunes.
Twin suns hammered down on the procession. Waves of heat rippled like cloaking shields, blurring the distance and making an oven of the Dune Sea. Indigenous creatures took shelter in whatever shadow they could find until the firestorm of afternoon trickled away into the cooler dusk.
The banthas moved with no noise other than the muffled crunching of their footsteps in the sand. Swathed in strips of cloth, the Tusken Raiders astride the shaggy beasts looked from side to side, keeping watch.
Wrapped entirely in bandages, yet still uneasy about the disguise, Han Solo looked out through narrow metal tubes designed to shield the eyes from blowing grit. His mouth was covered with a corroded metal filter for the sand; the filter contained a small internal moisturizer to make Tatooine’s fiery air more breathable. The other Sand People had tiny ventilators studded around their desert coverings. Only their strongest survived to adulthood, and they prided themselves on it.
Han rode on his bantha, hoping to remain inconspicuous in the middle of the procession. The hairy beast swayed as it walked, and Han tried not to clutch its scalloped, curving horns more often than the other Tusken Raiders did. The bantha’s sharp back ridges were covered with matted fur, and the disconcertingly thin saddle made the ride excruciatingly uncomfortable.
Han swallowed, taking another sip of his precious water and biting back a complaint. This had, after all, been his own crazy suggestion. He just hadn’t expected Luke Skywalker would be so eager to agree, and now Han was stuck. The mission was vital to the New Republic, and he had to follow through.
With a muttered command, the lead Raider urged his bantha to greater speed. The procession trudged through fine sand, winding along the crest of a shifting dune that stood like a towering sentinel in the arid ocean. Han did not grasp the dune’s great size until they had ascended for the better part of an hour without reaching the top.
The suns grew even hotter, if that were possible. The banthas coughed and snorted, but the Sand People were focused on a mission.
Han swallowed, trying to ease his parched throat. Finally, he could remain silent no longer and whispered into the short-range transmitter implanted in his breathmask. “Luke, what’s goin’ on?” he said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about whatever they’re up to.”
It took Luke Skywalker a moment to respond. Han watched the thin rider two banthas ahead of him sit up straighter; Luke seemed far more comfortable in his disguise than Han felt. Of course, Luke had grown up on Tatooine—but the young man’s voice now sounded bone weary as it came over the voice pickup in Han’s car.
“Nothing to do with us, Han,” he said. “A few of the Sand People have vague suspicions, but they haven’t centered on us yet. I’m using the Force to distract anyone who pays too much attention. No, this is something different entirely. A great tragedy … you’ll see.” Luke heaved a long breath through his breathmask. “Can’t talk now. Have to concentrate. Wait until they’re preoccupied, and I’ll explain more.”
Up ahead, Luke slumped forward in his Tusken disguise. Han knew his friend was expending an incredible amount of energy to lull the Sand People into ignoring their two unwanted guests. Luke was able to use his abilities to muddle the minds of weak individuals, but never before had Han seen his friend manipulate so many minds at once.
The trick was to keep the Sand People from noticing them; then it was easy for Luke to divert a few stray thoughts. If someone sounded an alarm and all the Sand People focused on the intruders, though, not even a Jedi Master would be able to keep up the charade. Then there would be a fight.
Tucked under his tattered robes,