Chapter 291
**Dagon POV**
"We're exiting hyperspace!" Ceri announced from the sensor station, voice crisp with tension. "Sir, we're four hundred kilometers from the planet — that's the safe zone here. Beyond that, it's Jabba's territory…"
I stood at the center of the *Terminus* bridge, arms crossed, staring at the viewscreen as Tatooine swelled into view. The twin suns cast a harsh golden-orange glow over the endless dunes.
"Straight ahead are eight Gozanti-class cruisers and forty-eight fighters," another operator reported rapidly.
"Sir, we are being asked about the purpose of the visit and our intentions," the comms officer added, one report tumbling after another.
"Tell them we've arrived on a diplomatic mission," I replied calmly, glancing at the viewscreen. "Tatooine… You can't help but recognize this sand planet. Ever since the Infinite Empire sank into oblivion, this place has remained unchanged. As the locals say: only the sand remains constant — everything else changes. For the rest of the galaxy, Tatooine is just another hole, a backwater on the outskirts. Beyond that, there's only Pzob. But for me… it's a legendary planet. The one where it all began. And twice, in fact."
Lichtendahl and Blam stood ready at their stations. I turned to them. "Everything should go smoothly, but… if we don't get in touch, screw the protocol and send a couple of companies under fighter cover."
"It will be done, General," Blam assured me. "I have already prepared for such a situation."
I concentrated and reached through the bond. "Zule."
"Yes, Teacher?" Her voice came back instantly, warm and alert.
"Take the little guy and get to the hangar. It's time to deliver him to his daddy."
"I'm already running."
**Scene 1 – Surface of Tatooine**
The shuttle hit the dunes hard, nose digging a deep furrow in the sand before finally grinding to a halt. The impact threw everyone forward against restraints.
"Fucking hell!" I spat on the cabin floor, unstrapping quickly. "Is everyone alive?"
Zule was already trying to calm Rotta, rocking the small Huttlet gently in her arms. He was crying quietly, the sudden violence and noise terrifying the poor creature.
"One soldier from the eighth squad is wounded — his arm is broken," the clone captain reported, voice steady despite the chaos. "One of the walkers is heavily damaged."
"Fuck. Damn fighter jets…"
At first, everything had gone smoothly. We had reached atmosphere and begun our landing approach. Then the ambush came from below. Four Belbulab-22 starfighters had appeared out of nowhere, missiles streaking up to take out our escort in seconds. They then turned on us. We hugged the dunes, twin turrets blazing, managing to shoot down three of them. The shuttle's heavy armament could take down a small corvette, let alone nimble fighters. Our survival was also helped by the fact that they were clearly trying to disable rather than destroy us — they needed the Hutt alive. Blaster cannons raked our hull instead of missiles.
The fourth fighter, now alone, abandoned subtlety. It launched four missiles straight at us. It almost succeeded.
"Captain, stay here and wait for reinforcements," I ordered, helping Zule to her feet. "Take care of the wounded. The fighters were supposed to return to the ship in fifteen minutes… but they won't. We'll get help from orbit. We'll head toward Jabba's palace."
"Yes, sir."
Zule cradled the still-sniffling Rotta closer to her chest, her red-orange skin dusted with sand. "He's scared, but he's tough. Like his father, I guess."
We set off across the desert, a small column of clones and the damaged walker limping behind. The twin suns were already dipping low, painting the dunes in blood-red and gold.
**Scene 2 – Separatist Observation Post**
Quinlan Vos snorted in displeasure as a gust of wind blew a handful of sand into his face. Count Dooku had yanked him from a mission on Quil and pointed him here, to Tatooine.
"I assume the fighters coped?" the Kiffar asked the OOM droid standing rigidly beside the probe feed.
"Yes, sir. The shuttle and its escort were shot down. They're twenty-eight kilometers from the Hutt's palace," the droid replied, its head shaking mechanically.
"Is there any movement?"
"Forty-one organics are crossing the desert. One of them is a Hutt. They've moved ten kilometers away. Thirty-nine more remain at the crash site. One moment… We're observing a combat walker at the crash site. Orders, sir?"
"Excellent. It must be Dagon. The ones at the crash site — leave them alone. The ones walking through the desert… I'll take care of them myself."
Quinlan Vos jumped onto his speeder bike and took off in the direction the probe droid had indicated.
"I think it'll be a simple task," he muttered to himself as the bike skimmed over the dunes. "I might even be able to convince this Jedi to hand over the Hutt to me voluntarily. While doing so, I might even win him over to our side. His apprentice is loyal to him and will surely follow. This Dagon… he doesn't look like a Jedi. He has no place in the Order. Just as there was no place for me. I think he'll understand my reasoning and will make an excellent ally. The information the Count provided speaks for itself. However… why didn't Dooku come here himself but sent his elite this organic warrior?"
**Scene 3 – The Desert Plateau**
We'd been walking for nearly an hour through the Tatooine desert. We'd been lucky enough to stumble upon a small rock plateau rising above the endless sand, and we were now moving across its relatively flat surface. It was far easier than trudging through the shifting dunes. Both suns — Tatoo I and Tatoo II — were nearing sunset, and our group cast long, strange shadows across the stone.
Suddenly, I felt it — a strange presence in the Force. Sharp. Familiar in its darkness, yet twisted.
I froze in place and motioned for the others to stop. "There's someone here. Someone… intelligent. And gifted. It seems we can't avoid a meeting with Dooku. Oh, shit…"
"I feel it too," Zule confirmed, her hand already dropping to her lightsaber hilt. Her red-orange skin darkened slightly with tension.
"Sir, who is this?" Puck inquired, scanning the horizon through macrobinoculars.
"Whoever it is, their target is the Hutt. We need to split up."
"We will fight back together, Master," Zule said resolutely, palms resting on the hilts of her dual blades.
"Exactly. And Rotta will get in our way."
"Eh?" Shpilka looked surprised, the other clones following suit.
"Puck, Lucky. You'll be taking care of the Hutt. Take all your fighters with you. Go… back to the crash site."
"And what about you, sir?" Lucky asked.
"We'll distract attention."
"And how are we going to do that?" Zule asked skeptically, though her eyes already showed trust.
"I have an idea. I need your help. After all, she's a predator — she should be able to do at least something, even if it's on a subconscious level."
Zule and I continued our journey alone through the darkening desert. It began to get dark, and the first stars appeared in the sky.
Suddenly, the sound of an engine reached our ears. We froze side by side in the center of the flat summit, a chain of rocky hills flanked by sand dunes on either side.
Ahead, a speeder bike appeared. Atop it sat a figure draped in a Jedi-style robe.
"Master?" Zule stood close to me, wary, her lekku-like head-tails (no, wait — her Falleen features sharp and alert).
The man skidded to a stop a dozen meters away and jumped down onto the sand. As he approached, he pulled back his hood.
This was… not Dooku.
Quinlan Vos smiled, his dreadlocks shifting in the evening breeze, and said cheerfully:
"What a meeting! Glad to see you, Knight Marek, and your apprentice too. I am Master Quinlan Vos. I've been instructed to convey that the Hutt is no longer your concern…"
My eyes narrowed. Something was deeply wrong. The Force around him felt… off. Twisted. And then I sensed the second presence — hidden, alien, radiating pure hatred for the Force itself.
The second warrior stepped out from behind a rocky outcrop.
Oh crap. A Yuuzhan Vong.
The chapter ends with the two figures confronting Dagon and Zule on the darkening plateau, the twin suns setting behind them in a blaze of red and gold.