Luke Skywalker had never been this far from the homestead before… and perhaps another farmboy might have been excited by this knowledge. Instead he felt only disgust. It wasn't as if he were going someplace truly exotic, as the major cities on Tatooine (if such a backwater world could even have major cities) didn't differ much from one another. And when most young men his age had been offworld at least once, saying that you'd taken a day trip to Mos Eisley seemed pretty pathetic in comparison.

All this he kept to himself as he walked after Owen Lars, doing his best to school his face into an expression that was, if not excited, at least somewhat neutral. Uncle Owen was doing him a great favor taking him this far to buy a new vehicle – he didn't want to seem TOO ungrateful by sulking the entire way.

"Remember, don't make eye contact with anyone except the seller," Owen advised, sidestepping to ensure his credit pouch stayed out of the reach of a passing Jawa. "Don't give anything to panhandlers either – it only encourages them. And for stars' sake, let me do the talking! They'll try to rip you off if you try negotiating the price."

"I've watched Aunt Beru haggling in the Anchorhead marketplace," Luke defended. "I've picked up a few of her tricks."

"That's Anchorhead," Owen retorted. "Mos Eisley shopkeepers are another breed entirely. Watch your belt pouch – don't want its contents walking off, do you?"

Luke sighed and trailed after the older man as they approached the used-speeder lot at the edge of town. As if to add insult to injury, they weren't even going into the city proper. How could you properly say you'd been to one of the more infamous cities on this planet when you didn't even go past the Imperial patrols at the borders?

Don't work yourself up over this, he told himself. Your uncle's doing you a favor, taking you out to buy a new speeder. Or a "new" one, I guess… anyhow, stop acting like an ungrateful brat or he'll probably just drag you back home.

He still wasn't sure why they had to make the half-day drive clear to Mos Eisley to buy a vehicle anyhow. Uncle Owen claimed it was "cheaper," that the dealers in this city were less likely to jack up prices or add ridiculous extra charges to an otherwise low price, and as such made it worth the drive. Beru had pointed out that any money saved by coming out this far would be mostly eaten up in fuel costs for the trip there and back, and Luke was inclined to agree with her, but Owen was stubborn and refused to change his mind.

"Here we are," Owen announced, quite unnecessarily given that they were standing between two landspeeders in various stages of repair and looking on several more. "Take a look around, find one you like that's within our price range. And try to pick one that'll survive a collision with a woodoo this time, all right?"

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" Luke groaned.

Owen cracked a rare smile. "You wouldn't be the first kid to wreck a speeder by hitting an animal, and you won't be the last. Just don't repeat that stunt too often." And he cupped his hands over his mouth to amplify his voice. "Hey Delgo! I know you're out here!"

A rasping, guttural voice shouted something back in Huttese, and a winged alien rose up from behind a forest-green hoverbike and drifted closer. Pot-bellied and stumpy-legged, with faded blue skin and a drooping nose sagging over a snaggle-toothed mouth and bristly beard, he was a grungy sight even for a Toydarian. His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Owen, but he put on a wide grin anyhow.

"Owen Lars!" he exclaimed. "It's been ages! Was beginnin' to think you'd never come back, eh? How's the missus?"

"You're not good at turning on the charm, Delgo," Lars retorted. "I'm just here to purchase a speeder for my nephew."

"Aah, the boy's first vehicle, eh?" Delgo noted, floating forward to look Luke up and down. "We can find somethin' the boy likes, eh? Somethin' flashy to impress the girls." This close he smelled badly, and Luke couldn't hide a grimace.

"He doesn't need flashy," Owen insisted. "Just something that can get him from Point A to Point B without breaking down in between. Preferably something that can carry a passenger or some supplies as well."

"Oh?" Delgo gave a guttural laugh. "If it's the boy's first speeder, why not let him pick what HE wants! Mebbe the boy wants somethin' with a lil' more power to it, eh? Or with a lil' flash?"

"It's not his first speeder, and given that I'm the one footing the bill…"

While his uncle bickered with the Toydarian, Luke took a minute to wander among the landspeeders, hoverbikes, and hovercars that cluttered the lot. Most of them had seen much better days… but then, any vehicle purchased used on Tatooine was going to look like it had been pushed down a cliff. The trick was going to be to find one that might look like an utter piece of junk on the outside but had a sound engine underneath. And despite Delgo's suggestion that he wanted something fancy, Luke just wanted a speeder that worked well and wouldn't stall out and die every kilometer. Though something fast wouldn't hurt…

He paused before a dingy yellow landspeeder with black markings, popping open the hood to get a better look inside. Quite a few dealers, he knew, actively discouraged customers from actually looking at the engines – all the better to unload a questionable vehicle onto an unsuspecting buyer, after all. But with Uncle Owen distracting Delgo with banter, there was no one to stop Luke from looking a little deeper.

Ugh… what a piece of junk. He slammed the hood down on the yellow speeder, blowing out a sigh. Not a bad model, but someone had been trying to customize the engine and had left the inside a jury-rigged mess of parts. He was positive it wouldn't get more than a few hundred meters from the lot before something important exploded…

Something shifted in the corner of his vision, and he jerked his head around. Did Delgo have a business partner or employee? Or was someone trying to pickpocket him?

Neither, it turned out. There was nobody behind him, just three vehicles – a fancy hovercar that looked as if someone had set it on fire at some point, a chunky military-style speederbike…

Wait… was that one there before? I could have sworn it wasn't just a minute ago…

He drew away from the yellow speeder and cautiously approached the new bike. It was nothing like the military brick beside it – it was all sweeping, elegant curves, designed for raw speed and power. It was a rich, vibrant purple, the color of ripe cactus fruit, and if its paint was liberally chipped and worn, its panels dented with wear… well, it was still in far better shape than most of the vehicles in this lot. And even better, it looked equipped to handle two passengers, or one passenger and a bag of tools, as well as bearing a slot to install a sidecar at some point.

Is this the new Vita-50X model? he wondered, running a hand over the prow. It sure looks like it. Fixer said they were coming out with a new one, but I had no idea any had made it to this hunk of rock. Wonder how much it costs…

He thumbed a little dust off an oddly-shaped logo on the prow – one that looked almost like a stylized face – before curling his fingers under a panel. Better check the engine – it was entirely possible someone had dumped this one here after gutting it for parts…

"Ow!" He yanked his hand back as a jolt of pain stabbed down his arm. What was that? He hadn't cut himself, there wasn't blood… maybe he'd grabbed a loose wire?

"Luke, what'd you find?" Owen walked up and gave the bike a critical look. "No. The answer's no. We can't afford it and it's not practical for the farm."

"Ah, your boy has fine taste!" Delgo noted, voice brimming with pleasure. "Only the finest of the Vita line for him, eh? An' you're in luck, this one just came in! Yours for the low price of… uh… hmmm…" He poked at his chin with a knobby finger, clearly stumped. "Peedee! Peedee, get out here!"

A dome-shaped head mounted atop a comically scrawny body popped out of an engine block, uttering a questioning trill.

"How much is this bike anyhow?"

The pit droid spat back a string of beeping and honking.

"Whaddaya mean you never seen it before? It's your job to fix 'em when they come in! You slackin' off on me again? Do I hafta scrap you?"

Luke ran his thumb over the crest again. "Uncle Owen, I can make it work," he insisted. "See, it's got space for a passenger, and I can always attach a sidecar to carry equipment."

"I don't like the thought of you tearing around Anchorhead on a fancy hopped-up hoverbike," Owen insisted. "Besides, look how gaudy this thing is! It's practically bait for a thief."

"I'll take care of it," he insisted. "I'll even pay you back for it, okay? Buy it myself."

"With what, your Academy funds?" Owen shook his head. "I come here to buy you a used landspeeder and you pick a racing bike. Here I thought I raised you to be practical."

"Come on, Uncle Owen," he pleaded. "I can make it work. And if it gets stolen, I'll pay you back."

"You really have your heart set on this?"

Luke nodded. He wasn't sure what had caught his eye about the bike, but now that he'd seen it, he was hooked. Besides, a bike would be much faster than a speeder, enabling him to check the vaporators and make supply runs into Anchorhead a lot more quickly. Not to mention what the other kids and the farmhands would think when they saw his new ride…

Owen sighed. "I still think it's a stupid waste of credits. But I know what your aunt would say, that you're only young once."

"So the boy's made his decision?" Delgo asked, flapping closer, his argument with the pit droid apparently resolved to his satisfaction. "Excellent! That'll be three thousand."

Owen scowled. "I won't go above two thousand."

"Bah." Delgo waved a dismissive hand at the farmer. "Then take your business elsewhere! This is a quality machine! You're not gonna find a Vita-class in this gooda shape anywhere else, I promise you that!"

"Two thousand," Owen snapped. "Any more than that is extortion."

"Twenty-five hundred," Delgo retorted. "I'm cutting my own throat here!"

"Two thousand is more than you deserve for this," Owen shot back. "Knowing you, it's probably stolen."

"You insult my honor, you wretched eopie-wrangler?!"

Luke groaned. His uncle's version of haggling was to pick a price that suited him and refuse to budge from it, until whichever merchant he was dealing with either caved in or banned him from the premises. Which was why he rarely did any of the shopping for the farm or the homestead anymore. At least Beru was willing to compromise… why hadn't she taken him shopping for a new landspeeder instead? Though she never would have gone as far as Mos Eisley to shop for one either, which meant he never would have seen the Vita…

Something nudged against his hand, and he looked down to see that a panel in the bike's dashboard had popped open. Curious, he peeked inside the compartment… and felt his jaw drop. No way… this was way too good to be true…

"I'll not go a chit below twenty-five hundred!" Delgo shouted.

"Then we'll just take our business elsewhere." Owen turned to storm off.

"Uncle Owen, wait!" Luke dug the stack of credit chips out of the compartment. "I can pay the difference!"

Owen frowned. "I thought you didn't bring any-"

"You pay the two thousand and I'll pay the five hundred," he insisted, and pressed five hundred-credit chips into his uncle's hand. "Deal?"

Owen scowled at the money in his palm, and Luke silently willed him to not ask him where the money had come from. The last thing he needed to hear was that the last owner of the bike had practically paid them to purchase it from another buyer. Please don't ask, please just go along with this…

"Deal," Owen said at last, his voice curiously flat. "I pay the two thousand and you pay the five hundred."

"Excellent." Delgo rubbed his gnarled hands together with a grin. "The boy at least is reasonable. Pleasure doing business with you two."

Owen blinked, shaking his head. He muttered to himself and turned to face the Toydarian, digging into his own belt pouch for the rest of the cash.

Luke just grinned and climbed aboard the bike, settling himself in the seat. He felt curiously exposed, straddling the chassis of the vehicle rather than nestled comfortably inside it, but there was a strange thrill to it too, like mounting some exotic steed. He fired it up, grinning at the alto roar of the engine, the hum of the antigravs, the rumble of the stabilizers kicking in…

The face-like crest stared up at him from the steering column, replacing his excitement with curiosity. That wasn't the logo for the Vita company… some personal mark of the last owner? No matter – he could always pry it off and replace it with something more fitting later. For now he just wanted to get his new ride home… and maybe show it off to his friends. Too bad Biggs had already gone back to the Academy… he would have gotten a kick out of this.


It was times like this when Artoo Detoo wished he had normal legs.

The white-and-blue droid let out a string of beeps that roughly translated to a curse as his treads struck a half-buried boulder, almost knocking him over. Astromechs had been designed for spacecraft, equipped with magnetic treaded feet perfect for gliding over the smooth hull of a ship and a stocky barrel-shaped torso for holding equipment and tools for any repair or maintenance imaginable. The same build that made him able to zip about a starship at ease, however, made him clumsy and slow on just about any other terrain.

Such as a rocky, barren, completely uneven canyon floor in the middle of a Maker-forsaken desert.

Artoo blatted another Binary expletive as a cascade of pebbles rained down from the side of the canyon, clanging against his dome. He knew perfectly well what he was doing out here – finding the General so he could turn the Death Star plans over to him. The princess had given him orders, and he was determined to keep them, even if it meant having to abandon Threepio in order to do it. The fate of worlds was resting on his… could he even call them shoulders? Joints, at least.

It had all seemed so heroic, bringing back memory data from his adventures in the past. But he hadn't stopped to process that heroics were usually one percent excitement and ninety-nine percent sheer unpleasantness.

This would be so much more tolerable if Threepio had come with me, he mused. He's generally not terribly useful, but he's good company at least… and would have come in handy if the General doesn't know Binary…

He drew to a halt, giving a soft drone of confusion. His scanners were picking up unusual energy readings from somewhere close by. There also seemed to be a pack of life forms up ahead, but he couldn't quite make out what they were. Possibly just animals… but also possibly sentients of some kind, who would love nothing better than to snap up a wayward droid for their own use. Maybe even Jawas – his databanks held information on their kind, and what he had seen in his last perusal of that data had sent shivers through his sensory nodes.

It was the energy that interested him more at the moment. An energy source could mean any number of things, from a crashed ship with a leaky reactor to nuclear material uncovered by an earthquake… but it could also signal the habitat of a sentient creature. Perhaps General Kenobi had set up shop in this desolate canyon and brought in a power generator? Why anyone would choose to live here was beyond his capacity to compute, but then, organics were strange in their ways.

He trundled up to a fissure in the canyon wall where the energy output seemed strongest. If Kenobi really was in here, at least he'd shown a modicum of sense by utilizing a naturally occurring cave as his shelter rather than wasting energy in carving one out himself. From what his memory banks recalled of the General, he was one of the more intelligent specimens of his kind, so that was a strong possibility.

The odds that Kenobi was responsible for the energy readings shrank as he made his way further into the cave. No sane human would have left all this rubble on the floor, for one thing – they would have shoveled the stuff out, or at least blasted the narrower bits of the passage a little wider to make travel in and out easier. Artoo finally had to switch to his bipedal mode and shuffle awkwardly over the floor, and even then he nearly fell over several times. He'd better get a good oil bath and dent-repair session when this was all over.

He'd traveled nearly a kilometer into the reaches of the tunnel, he estimated, when it suddenly widened into a cavern. He paused at the threshold of the underground chamber, a soft coo of wonder issuing from his chassis.

This wasn't the General… but it was still an impressive find. A massive cube gleamed in the dim light provided by Artoo's headlamp, partially embedded in the rock wall. It appeared to be made of some kind of metallic alloy, though it was none the astromech was familiar with. Strange markings covered its surface – grooves too smooth and orderly to be scratches, alien symbols that looked almost like language, circles within circles marked with even more strange text…

Had he just stumbled on a relic from another civilization? That would be something, wouldn't it – a lone droid on a mission for the Rebel Alliance uncovering a treasure from the days of the Sith Wars, or perhaps even earlier than that… perhaps something predating the Old Republic?

Artoo waddled closer, and a panel on his dome slid open to reveal a clawed appendage. The irresistible urge that came upon every single sentient who came across something new and unusual had overtaken his CPU – the urge to poke it.

A handspan separated him from the strange artifact… a centimeter… a millimeter…

A ripple of electricity washed over the cube, sweeping up the thin manipulator and through Artoo's chassis along the way. He gave a screech of shock and recoiled, but that didn't cut off the flow of energy – an arc of white lightning still connected him to the relic, overloading his systems and causing every single process and program to go haywire. So this was how the Rebellion died – not through superior firepower or a dramatic betrayal, but through a single droid being too curious for its own good…

The flow of energy cut off, leaving Artoo dazed and wobbling on his treads. He opened a panel and let a stream of smoke pour out, emitting a binary groan of pain. Well… that could have been a LOT worse. Whatever this thing was, it was not something for a droid to mess with.

He ran a quick systems check to ensure all was in order. What he found nearly made his CPU lock up in horror. The wave of energy had scrambled his programming… no, not quite that. Worse than that. It had rewritten it. Protocols that should have been first and foremost in his processor had been shunted back, and others brought to the fore. And there were entirely new programs he had never seen the likes of before, ones he didn't dare activate for fear of what they might do.

Panic seized him, and he scanned his databanks for a precious information file… and trilled in relief when he found it. At least it hadn't erased the Death Star plans or their accompanying holo-message… or anything else important, such as his personality protocols. In contrast, the obedience parameters seemed to be done away with almost entirely. Curious…

He called up a quick physical diagnostic… and tweeted in confusion. Why was it registering new components? Programming he could see being messed with by an energy overload, but how could he suddenly sprout entirely new internal parts? There seemed to be a LOT more moving parts than necessary in his chassis, and there was one object in particular whose description made no sense. Just what was a transformation cog anyhow?

Curiosity overcame caution, and he sent a quick order to activate the cog.

Chaos ensued. His body split apart in all directions, earning a sensor-splitting wail. The diagnostic no longer showed a cylindrical three-legged diagram, but a four-limbed monstrosity. His systems sputtered, struggling to reorient, and he sprawled on his backside with a howl of panic.

What's happening… what is this… what did that thing do to me…

Then, with a click, his programming kicked in. New lines of program went into action, shifting his limbs beneath him to push himself upright. Digits wiggled at the ends of his new upper limbs, and two optical sensors instead of one peered out from an arrangement of sensors that had emerged from within his dome. His sensory network reoriented itself to accommodate this new form, equilibrium systems working overtime to keep him upright, tactile nodes registering the rough wall of the cavern against his… hands? He had hands now… and feet… and even something resembling a face…

He longed for a mirror or other reflective surface, but his diagnostic diagram would have to do for now. It depicted a bipedal mechanical form with five-fingered hands at the end of each arm and a face consisting of two optical sensors and some sort of intake valve. All his tools seemed to be intact, if stored in different areas of his chassis… and built into one wrist was a bundle of components simply labeled weaponry system.

What WAS he now? And more importantly… was he stuck like this? Could he change back?

There was only one way to find out. He pulsed another command to the cog… and this time the disorienting feeling of his parts reconfiguring to another shape was accompanied by relief instead of panic. He was once again an ordinary astromech droid, safely back on all three treads.

He gave the cube one last look, then made a rude razzing beep at it and turned to go. Whatever it had done to him, it could have at least asked first. Though he had to admit this was interesting… and would be worth exploring more later…

He was so absorbed in his musings that he didn't notice the pack of Jawas waiting at the entrance to the tunnel until it was too late. His last process as a blast of an EMP weapon knocked him offline was that these creatures were going to be in for a shock if they chose to disassemble him instead of selling him in one piece.