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“Well, borrow, really,” Ben said. “It’s a fine old Jedi tradition, actually. Come on. Let’s take that one.”

Vestara shrugged, reached out a hand, made a fist, and tugged. The speeder lifted up, careened over the rows of speeders, farming equipment, and one or two animals that bleated and hooted in alarm, landed, and bounce slightly in the soft sand a meter away from them. Now it was Ben’s turn to stare. She’d maneuvered the speeder as if it were no more cumbersome than a pak’pah fruit. Vestara noticed his expression and shot him a grin. Ben recovered quickly.

“Yeah, well, then I’ll drive,” he said, jumping onto the speeder and starting it. Vestara slid behind him as the speeder roared to life, slipping her arms around his waist. Safely facing away from her, Ben permitted himself a small private smile at the touch, then yanked the handles around and followed the trail that the insane Dyon had so conveniently left them.

“Where does he think he’s going to go?” Ben asked rhetorically, yelling to be heard over the sound of the speeder bike.

“According to the map,” Vestara yelled back, “Treema is the only major city within several hundred kilometers. If he wanted to escape, he should have stolen a ship.”

“Thinking clearly does not seem to be a trait when these Jedi snap,” Ben retorted.

But where did Dyon think he was going? On a land vessel, he’d run out of water before he made it anywhere. And yet the trail led due west, toward the sinking, bloated magenta sun.

“The Fountain!” Vestara exclaimed.

“The Fountain of the Hutt Ancients?” Why would he go there? Then again, why did the Force users who went mad do anything? To a crazy mind, he supposed it made … some kind of sense.

“It’s the only thing other than sand that is due west of Treema,” Vestara continued. Keeping one arm firmly around his waist, she pointed with the other. “Look. Right there. That slight glint right on the horizon. That’s it.”

Oh, this was just wonderful. A crazed Force-user on a speeder bike heading straight for an ancient, sacred place that insisted that no modern technology approach within one full kilometer. Ben started to reach for his comlink, but he was going too fast and the speeder swerved. Ben swore under his breath.

“Contact my dad. Let him know what’s happened.”

“Master Skywalker?”

Vestara. Her voice was drowned out by what sounded like wind snatching away her words. Luke frowned slightly. “Vestara? Everything all right? Where’s Ben?”

“No sir, everything is not all right, and Ben is right here with me,” she said. “We are in pursuit of Dyon Stad. He appeared to go insane inside on the ground level market and began attacking civilians.”

Luke closed his eyes briefly. No, not here, not now … At least Vestara’s strict Sith training had taught her to report calmly, briefly, and accurately. First things first.

“Any casualties?”

“Negative, unless you count a few bushels of exotic fruit and several wooden crates.”

Ben was rubbing off on her. So much for reporting calmly, briefly, and accurately.

She added, “Several people were injured, but neither Ben nor I sensed any deaths.”

“Well, that’s something, at least. Do you know where he’s heading?”

“Due west of Treema,” she said. “He’s on a speeder bike and so are we. Anticipate broaching the kilometer barrier around the Fountain in approximately five minutes.”

“I assume the authorities are also en route.”

A pause. “Yes, sir. Behind us and closing in are four land vehicles and above us are six air vehicles.”

“What kind?”

Another pause. “Sir, I don’t know your vessel classifications.”

Ah, the Sith. They could always be trusted upon to lie. Luke suspected that Vestara knew exactly what type of “vessel classifications” she was regarding, maybe even better than Ben. But he chose not to challenge her on it.

“It doesn’t matter. Are they—”

He was about to say “attacking” but was saved the trouble as the unmistakable sound of blaster fire was heard.

“Vestara!”

“We’re all right,” she said, her voice calm and cool. “They appear to be poor shots, and I’m deflecting most of the bolts. And most