Either because the speeder had passed out of range or because the second Tusken

had convinced the other, the two broke off the discussion and scrambled down the

backside of the high ridge. Snuffling and a shifting of weight took place at the ridge

bottom as the two Banthas stirred at the approach of their masters. Each was as

large as a small dinosaur, with bright eyes and long, thick fur. They hissed anxiously

as the two sandpeople approached, then mounted them from knee to saddle.

With a kick Banthas rose. Moving slowly but with enormous strides, the two

massive horned creatures swept down the back of the rugged bluff, urged on by their

anxious, equally outrageous mahouts.

"It's him, all right," Luke declared with mixed anger and satisfaction as the tiny

tripodal form came into view. The speeder banked and swung down onto the floor

of a huge sandstonecanyon. Luke slipped his rifle out from behind the seat and

swung it over his shoulder. "Come round in front of him, Threepio," he instructed.

"With pleasure, sir."

The Artoo unit obviously noted their approach, but mad no move to escape; it

could hardly have outrun the landspeeder anyway. Artoo simply halted as soon as it

detected them and waited until the craft swung around in a smooth arc. Threepio

came to a sharp halt, sending up a low cloud of sand on the smaller robot's right.

Then the whine from the landspeeder's engine dropped to a low idling hum as

Threepio put it in parking mode. A last sigh and the craft stopped completely.

After finishing a cautious survey of the canyon, Luke led his companion out onto

the gravelly surface and up to Artoo Detoo. "Just where," he inquired sharply, "did

you think you were going?"

A feeble whistle issued from the apologetic robot, but it was Threepio and not

the recalcitrant rover who was abruptly doing most of the talking.

"Master Luke here is now your rightful owner, Artoo. How could you just

amble away from him like this? Now that's he's found you, let's have no more of

this 'Obi-wan Kenobi's gibberish. I don't know where picked that up-or that

melodramatic hologram, either."

Artoo started to beep in protest, but Threepio's indignation was too great to

permit excuses. "And don't talk to me about your mission. What rot! You're

fortunate Master Luke doesn't blast you into a million pieces right here and now."

"Not much chance of that," admitted Luke, a bit overwhelmed by Threepio's

casual vindictiveness. "Come on-it's getting late." He eyed the rapidly rising

suns. "I just hope we can get back before Uncle Owen really lets go."

"If you don't mind my saying so," Threepio suggested, apparentlyunwilling that

the Artoo unit should get off so easily, "I think you ought to deactivate the little

fugitive until you've gotten him safely back in the garage."

"No. He's not going to try anything." Luke studied the softly beeping 'droid

sternly. "I hope he's learned his lesson. There's no need to-"

Without warning the Artoo unit suddenly leaped off the ground-no mean feat

considering the weakness of the spring mechanisms in his three thick legs. His

cylindrical body was twisting and spinning as he let out a franticsymphony of

whistles, hoots, and electronic exclamations.

Luke was tired, not alarmed. "What is it? What's wrong with him now?"

He was beginning to see how Threepio's patience could be worn thin. He had had

about enough of this addled instrument himself.

Undoubtedly the Artoo unit had acquired the holo of the girl by accident, then

used it to entice Luke into removing his restraining module. Threepio probably had

the right attitude. Still, once Luke got its circuits realigned and its logic couplings

cleaned, it would make a perfectly serviceable farm unit. Only...if that was the case,

then why was Threepio looking around so anxiously?

"Oh my, sir. Artoo claims there are several creatures of unknown type

approaching from the southeast."

That could be another attempt by Artoo to distract them, but Luke couldn't take

the chance. Instantly he had his rifle off his shoulder and had activated the energy

cell. He examined the horizon in the indicated direction and saw nothing. But then,

sandpeople were experts at making themselves unseeable.

Luke suddenly realized exactly how far out they were, how much ground the

landspeeder had covered that morning. "I've never been out in this direction this far

from the farm before," he informed Threepio. "There are some awfully strange

things living out here. Not all of them have been classified. It's better to treat

anything as dangerous until determined otherwise. Of course, if it's something

utterly new..." His curiosity prodded him. In any case, this was probably just

another ruse of Artoo Detoo's. "Let's take a look," he decided.

Moving cautiously forward and keeping his rifle ready, he led Threepio toward

the crest of a nearby high dune. At the same time he took care not to let Artoo out of

his sight.

Once at the top he lay flat and traded his rifle for the macrobinoculars. Below,

another canyon spread out before them, rising to a wind-weathered wall of rust and

ocher. Advancing the binocs slowly across the canyon floor, he settled unexpectedly

on two tethered shapes. Banthas-and riderless!

"Did you say something, sir?" wheezed Threepio, struggling up behind Luke.

His locomotors were not designed for such outer climbing and scrambling.

"Banthas, all right," Luke whispered over his shoulder, not considering in the

excitement of the moment that Threepio might not know a Bantha from a panda.

He looked back into the eyepieces, refocusing slightly. "Wait...it's sandpeople,

sure. I see one of them."

Something dark suddenly blocked his sight. For a moment he thought that a

rock might have moved in front of them. Irritably he dropped the binoculars and

reached out to move the blinding object aside. His hand touched something like soft

metal.

It was a bandaged leg about as big around as both of Luke's together. Shocked,

he looked up...and up. The towering figure glaring down at him was no jawa. It

had seemingly erupted straight from the sand.

Threepio took a startled step backward and found no footing. As gyros whined

in protest the tall robot tumbled backward down the side of the dune. Frozen in

place, Luke heard steadily fading bangs and rattles as Threepio bounced down the

steep slope behind him.

As the moment of confrontation passed, the Tusken let out a terrifying grunt of

fury and pleasure and brought down his heavy gaderffii. The double-edged ax

would have cleaved Luke's skull neatly in two, except that he threw the rifle up in a

gesture more instinctive than calculated. His weapon deflected the blow, but would

never do so again. Made from cannibalized freighter plating the huge ax shattered

the barrel and made metallic confetti of the gun's delicate insides.

Luke scrambled backward and found himself against a steep drop. The Raider

stalked him slowly, weapon held high over its rag-enclosed head. It uttered a

gruesome, chuckling laugh, the sound made all the more inhuman by the distortion

effect of its grid-like sandfilter.

Luke tried to view his situation objectively, as he had been instructed to do in

survival school. Trouble was, his mouth was dry, his hands were shaking, and he

was paralyzed with fear. With the Raider in front of him and a probably fatal drop

behind, something else in his mind took over and opted for the least painful response.

He fainted.

None of the Raiders notice Artoo Detoo as the tiny robot force himself into a

small alcove in the rocks near the landspeeder. One of them was carrying the inert

form of Luke. He dumped the unconscious youth in a heap next to the speeder, then

joined his fellows as they began swarming over the open craft.

Supplies and spare parts were thrown in all directions, from time to time the

plundering would be interrupted as several of them quibbled or fought over a

particularly choice bit of booty.

Unexpectedly, distribution of the landspeeder's content ceased, and with

frightening speed the Raiders became part of the desertscape, looking in all directions.

A lost breeze idled absently down the canyon. Far off to the west, something

howled. A rolling, booming drone ricocheted off canyon walls and crawled

nervously up and down a gorgon scale.

The sandpeople remained poised a moment longer. Then they were uttering

loud grunts and moans of fright as they rushed to get away from the highly visible

landspeeder.

The shivering howl sounded again, nearer this time. Bu now the sandpeople

were halfway to their waiting Banthas, that were likewise lowing tensely and tugging

at their tethers.

Although the sound held no meaning for Artoo Detoo, the little 'droid tried to

squeeze himself even deeper into the almost-cave. The booming howl came closer.

Judging by the way the sandpeople had reacted, something monstrous beyond

imagining had to be behind that rolling cry. Something monstrous and murder-bent

which might not have the sense to distinguish between edible organics and inedible

machines.

Not even the dust of their passing remained to mark where the Tusken Raiders

had only minutes before been dismembering the interior of the landspeeder. Artoo

Detoo shut down all but vital functions, trying to minimize noise and light as a

swishing sound grew gradually audible. Moving toward the landspeeder, the

creature appeared above the top of a nearby dune...
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