Tatooine turned out to be a desert world. The heat was blinding as the small caravan of containers left the settlement of low whitewashed buildings, many of which were partially submerged as protection from the blazing hammers of the twin suns. Leyla drew a pair of goggles from her baggy clothing and slipped them over her eyes as protection from the blowing grit that the windrush carried as the speeders slid over the waste of rock and sand. If there was any roadway or path Leyla couldn’t see it, but the Dug seemed to know where he was going. As the drove east the landscape became rockier and they climbed several small ridgelines via switch backs that were probably the natural result of erosion rather than any kind of construction.

There was something eerily familiar about the place, or perhaps a presence that lingered over the area. Leyla hadn’t used her abilities much since the purge, at first it had been too great a risk with the Emperor’s hunters scouring the galaxy for survivors and over the years they had grown dormant, dulled without the discipline and practice her instructors had insisted on. Something about this place seemed to carry her back to when she had been a padawan and that made her uneasy. Almost tentatively she reached out with her feelings and almost immediately felt a flash of other lifeforms nearby, lurking with hostile intent.

“Down!” she snapped at Cleo, throwing herself flat behind the lip  of the cargo carrier. The Zabrak obeyed instantly ducking his head a moment before a salvo of blaster bolts stabbed from the ridge like scarlet darts. Most of them flew wide but one ricocheted off the front of the grav struck and two more sliced through the air that she and Cleo had just vacated. The vehicle began to slow as the driver instinctively let off the accelerator.

“NO!” Leyla shouted, “GO GO GO!” She rose into a crotch, both pistols appearing in her hand as if by magic, and opened fire on the ridgeline though at this range and without a clear target it as little more than suppressing fire. She leaped down atop the cab and shouted through the window for the driver to floor it. The Bith did so, kicking the powerful engines into gear with a jolt that nearly threw Leyla from the cab. They rocketed up the switchback pursued by blasterfire that shattered rocks and kicked up plumes of dust. The grav truck raced over the ridge and down the other side towards a sea of sand dunes. Gunfire from the ambushers slowed as the angle worsened.

“I think we might be ok…” Leyla began clambering back up to her original position beside Cleo. A heartbeat after the words left her mouth a half dozen swoops leaped from behind the ridge, along with two heavier skiffs, racing after the fleeing grav truck. The swoops lowered towards the ground, their thrust lifting vast trails of dust behind them. Leyla saw that each of the skiff had a half dozen armed and tough looking thugs riding it, firing wildly with a variety of weapons. The motley appearance made them gang members rather than Imperials, which was at least something. Heavy blaster fire stitched the sand beside them as their driver swerved wildly to avoid the train tracking blaster cannon bolts. Leyla caught hold of a handle, firing with her other hand as the swoop raced past them pulling up and away. Their was a flash of light and a plume of dirty black smoke as her bolts struck something important, though the swoop didn’t crash or explode. They were clearly racing models rather than armored military variants.

“Friends of yours?” she called to Cleo as she turned to track another of the swoops, firing with the steady precision of a metronome.