Disclaimer: Star Wars is the creation of George Lucas, and I am merely borrowing his universe for a while, to be returned without a scratch, I promise. Nira Meninn, Ono and Olo Snarrh, however, were born of my own imaginings, as is the next part of the story you are about to read…

Chapter 2 – Biting the Hand that Saves You

The winds were whipping the sands into abrasive swirls, the sign of a coming sandstorm, as a lone, robed figure moved across the rock-strewn outskirts of the Jundland Wastes. Stopping just short of a small, whitewashed building, the figure paused, as if sensing something wrong, then hurried on past the dwelling to the west, and the open Dune Sea.

********

Nira woke with a ragged gasp, sitting bolt upright, unconsciously reaching for her blaster. Of course, her blaster wasn't there, but as her hand shot to her hip, she realised that she was no longer bound. She was no longer in the speeder either. Warily, she took in her surroundings, her head throbbing dully. She was in some sort of white-walled dwelling, compact and sparsely furnished. Beneath her was an animal-skin blanketed bed; the bed itself slot inside a rounded alcove. From somewhere at the end of the dwelling, she could hear someone moving around.

Did I make it to a moisture farm? Nira wondered. The last thing she remembered was heading for the canyon pass… then nothing. She rubbed at her forehead, attempting to force the memories to return. All that returned was her awareness of the sand now grating inside her parched mouth.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

Startled, Nira turned her head to see a brown-robed man emerging from a doorway to her left. He appeared to be in his late thirties/early forties, his most distinguishing feature being a ginger-brown beard. His eyes were blue, and bespoke of gentleness and wisdom – the latter born of painful experience, it would seem from the faintly haunted look about him. Nira quickly assessed that he was not going to harm her, and relaxed a little.

The man approached her with two tall glasses. He handed them to her wordlessly, then turned and disappeared into the other room again. Nira looked down at the glasses. One was filled with cool, fresh water. The other was empty. Overcome by her raging thirst, she raised the full glass to her lips.

A few moments later, feeling much refreshed, Nira watched in grateful silence as the strange man collected one drained glass and one glass containing a mouthful of sand-saturated water.

"Feeling better?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Thanks. Is this a moisture farm?"

"No, it isn't. Nor am I a moisture farmer. My name is… Ben." He lowered himself into a seat on the opposite side of the room. "Tell me, how did you come to be lying unconscious and bound in a speeder on the edge of the Dune Sea?"

Nira narrowed her eyes at him. "I have some prankster friends. What's it to you, anyway?"

Ben merely shrugged. "Just curious, uh… I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"That's right, you don't. And I don't know your name either."

That statement elicited a raised eyebrow from Ben. "But I just told you…"

"You were lying. I can read body language," Nira said curtly, then stood up. "I think I'll be leaving now." She started for the door.

"I wouldn't go out there," Ben said, getting to his feet. As he did so, his robe shifted such that Nira caught a glimpse of something silver and cylindrical hanging from his belt, but then his robe fell across and hid it from view again. "Not unless you want to try your luck against a sandstorm."

Why should I believe that? Nira thought crossly. But she could tell he wasn't lying this time. She paused, folded her arms, and turned to face Ben. "You're a Jedi, aren't you?"

Ben was momentarily taken aback, then he recovered himself, almost imperceptibly quickly. "I think you must be suffering from the delusional after-effects of heat exhaustion."

"And I think you're avoiding the question. You have a lightsabre – isn't that the weapon of a Jedi?"

"The Jedi are all but extinct, the Sith have hunted down and destroyed them."

Nira studied his face, finding it impossible to read. He wasn't outright lying, but then he wasn't being totally honest either. She knew that the Jedi were a dying breed, the Empire having wiped most of them out. She also knew that the Empire offered a very large bounty to anyone who could bring them a Jedi – dead or alive.

"What's in that chest?" Nira asked, indicating a small wooden box in the corner. "You keep looking towards it surreptitiously. What are you hiding?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Ben said uneasily. Her body-language reading abilities were apparently beginning to unnerve him.

"Really?" Nira stepped over to the chest. Ben stiffened, but made no move to stop her. She reached down and opened the chest. Her eyes widened as she took in the contents. Then, with a grin, she pulled out a slender, silver cylinder.

"Aha! Another lightsabre! You must be a Jedi. Unless you're a fanatical Jedi-weapon collector. Which I doubt."

Ben shifted his feet, and briefly looked away. Then he gazed solemnly at Nira. "You don't want to know if I'm a Jedi," he said with a controlled wave of his hand.

Nira stared at him, momentarily mesmerised. "I don't want to know if you're a Jedi." "You want to put that lightsabre back in the chest."

"I want to put this lightsabre back in the chest." Then a slow smile formed on her lips. "NOT!!!!!!!!!" The lightsabre in her hand igniting with a blue-bladed electroplasmic tear, she leapt forwards to attack.

Ben calmly watched her fly towards him, then held out his palm.

Suddenly Nira found herself being flung backwards. She crashed heavily into the far wall, and dropped the sabre. It de-ignited with a disgruntled buzz. Nira slumped onto the floor, bruised and surprised. She looked up sullenly to see Ben retrieve the lightsabre.

"Firstly," he began, "It's not a good idea to attack an unknown opponent with a weapon you don't know how to use." He went to sit down in his chair again, the lightsabre still in his hand. "Secondly, you really don't want to know if I'm a Jedi, because if I am, I hope you realise that I will now have to kill you to protect my identity."

Nira shifted uneasily, and bit her lip.

"However, as you don't know if I'm a Jedi, I see no reason not to let you go. As soon as the storm abates, you can be on your way."

********

Later, as Nira made her way through Mos Eisley to her ship, she made a promise to herself. I think I'm going to go home. And then I'm going to have a think about my life.