A Tusken Camp

It was early the next morning when Luke was awoken by his Uncle Owen. The older man frowned at Luke with weariness as he explained that there were running low on parts and that he would need to take the speeder into Anchorhead to pick up replacements. Luke grumbled a little at the inconvenience, but eventually stirred himself awake and got up. He had a quick breakfast with his aunt and uncle before setting off in the family speeder.

The trip was mostly without complaint, with Luke enjoying the breeze rushing through his hair and caressing his face. During the trip he allowed his mind to wander, his troubles to momentarily be forgotten, and he found a measure of peace. He pulled up at Anchorhead and went to the trader his uncle had mentioned, wasting a good ten minutes trying to barter with the stubborn Toydarian before finally getting his way.

“Luke!”

Skywalker spun around in the direction of the voice and couldn’t help but smile at it’s owner. Biggs Darklighter had been one of his oldest friends and one of the few who hadn’t moved on.

“Biggs,” he smiled and walked over to the other man, parts nursed under one arm, “what are you doing here?”

The other man laughed. “Errands, same as you by the looks of it,” he looked over Luke’s shoulder at his speeder, “your uncle isn’t with you?”

“No,” Luke frowned in confusion, “why would he be?”

Biggs blinked. “You haven’t heard? The Tusken Raiders have been causing a real fuss around these parts,” his face looked grave, “there’ve been reports that they’ve attacked three different settlements. It’s real crazy out there!”

“Well I haven’t seen anything,” Luke shrugged, “I guess they haven’t quite gotten to this area. But thanks for the update Biggs, I’ll let my Uncle know!”

Luke and his friend nodded to each other and went their seperate ways. Skywalker returned to his speeder and dumped the part into the seat beside him before hoping in. Biggs words played on him as he zoomed through the stretch of desert, occasionally looking about for any sign of trouble. After fifteen minutes of nothing he allowed himself to relax, shaking his head at how he had let Biggs get to him. Sand People had been a problem for a long time, but they were never anything too serious if you stayed out of their way and didn’t go looking for trouble.

He was almost halfway home when a plume of smoke shot up from his speeder’s engine and he was to slow to a halt and expect the damage. Luke cursed to himself as he took out his hydrospanner and began to investigate the innards of his transport. It didn’t take long for his mechanically gifted mind to pinpoint the problem, and he began to tinker around as he tightened the part up. He closed the flap and went back to start the transport up, finding a satisfied smile spread across his face as the machine hummed to life good as new.

His satisfaction was short-lived however, as something hard connected with the back of his head and the world was consumed by the darkness of unconsciousness.

Luke awoke several hours later with a pain in his skull so bad that he felt as if his brain was going to leak out. His hands were bound tightly above him. He blinked for a few moments, trying his best to focus on the darkened surroundings he found himself in. There was a whistle of the desert breeze blowing and dirt under his bare feet. He suddenly shivered, and to his mounting horror realised that he was completely naked. As if sensing their captive had awoken, two robbed and masked figures stepped into the small tent, their voices creating the Tell-Tale snarls of Tusken Raiders.