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Kabe craned her neck to peer out the porthole of the small freighter, gazing down at the golden world below them, turning lazily in the light of its double suns. “I never thought I’d see Tatooine from here,” she chirped, a little uneasily. “I could use a drink, Muftak.”

“Not while we’re in space, little one,” the Talz said. “We don’t want you getting sick. But on Alzoc … ah, there is the finest of nectar to sip!”

“What about juri juice?” she demanded, taken aback. “Don’t tell me they don’t have any juri juice, Muftak!”

Muftak hummed softly. “I have no idea, little one,” he said gently. Every time the Talz moved, he could feel the letters of transit in their place of concealment. First Alzoc III, he thought. Then, perhaps, Chadra … and from there? Who knows? The Rebellion has been far more charitable to us than the Empire ever was or would be … perhaps, after we have seen our home worlds, it will be time to think once again of the Rebellion.

Kabe was still gazing out the porthole, muttering disgustedly to herself about the lack of juri juice. But suddenly she glanced up at her large friend, her little eyes twinkling. “I’ve just thought of one more reason I’m glad to leave Mos Eisley, Muftak.”

“What is that, little one?”

“At least I’ll never have to listen to that … that noise Figrin D’an makes again! Especially his rendition of The Sequential Passage of Chronological Intervals.’ That one really hurt my ears …”

Muftak stroked his proboscis, buzzing softly with amusement.

The Sand Tender:

The Hammerhead’s Tale

by Dave Wolverton

The cantina was crowded now that the afternoon suns beat down on Tatooine, yet even sitting with his friend in the crowded cantina, Momaw Nadon felt somehow alone. Perhaps it was because Nadon was the only Ithorian—or Hammerhead—on the planet. Or perhaps it was the news that his longtime friend Muftak bore.

Muftak the hairy white four-eye drank a cup of fermented nectar, slurping with his long proboscis, and said with palpable excitement, “Talz is the name of my species—at least that is what the stormtrooper called me, and as soon as he said it, I recognized the word. Have you heard of the Talz?”

Nadon had a perfect memory. “Unfortunately, I have never heard of your species, my friend,” Nadon answered, the words from his twin mouths cutting through the room in stereo. “But I have contacts on other worlds. Now that we know your species, we may be able to learn where your home lies.”

Muftak got a faraway look in his eyes as he sipped his drink. “Home.”

“These Imperial stormtroopers that questioned you,” Nadon asked, “what were they after?”

“I have heard,” Muftak said, “that they are searching for two droids who evacuated a Rebel ship and dropped into the Dune Sea. The Imperials are conducting a door-to-door search, even now.”

“Hmmm …” Nadon considered. He couldn’t tell what the Imperials were really after. Often they would visit a planet, pretend to investigate a minor infraction as an excuse to bully the locals, then leave a garrison of gunslingers to “ensure the peace.” A small force of stormtroopers had been onplanet for some time. Now it looked as if the Empire were raising the stakes on Tatooine. At this very moment, all over the planet, residents of the underworld were scurrying to hide illegal drug shipments, forging documents. Nadon saw worried faces in the crowded bar. There was no telling how long the new Imperial forces might stay or what direction their investigations might take.

Muftak laid a heavy claw on Nadon’s arm in warning. “There is something more that I must tell you, my old friend. The Imperials that stopped us were led by a commander named Lieutenant Alima, an older human from the planet Coruscant.”

At the mention of Alima’s name, Momaw Nadon’s blood went cold and the muscles of his legs tightened, preparing him to run. “It would be a great favor,” Nadon said, “if you could discover if this man once led the Star Destroyer Conquest in its attack against a herdship on Ithor.”

“I have already begun asking around,” Muftak answered.