A/N: Yeah I haven't updated in a while. I got stuck at a certain point in the story, cookies if you can figure out where. Well, ctually, no cookies. None. You can't have any. Plus I don't actually care if you try to figure out where writers block set in. I'm rambling! Rambling is fun. But not as fun as cookies. And I believe I shall end on that note.

"What in Sith is this?" whispered Daxius in horror.

Before them in the sand crater was a bloodied field of dead Tuskens and mercs. Dozens upon dozens of dead bodies lay still, blaster-scoring and stab wounds in their chests. There were over thirty Tusken warriors left standing and they were attending to the huge carcass resting atop the other side of the hollow.

"Looks like the mercs were ambushed," said Walush.

"No, that's not it," observed Achilles. "Tuskens hunt down greater krayt dragons as a coming of age ceremony, or other such sacred rituals. It's not a killing taken lightly, since greater krayts are hard to slay and revered among their culture. If anything, the mercenaries tried to ambush the Tuskens, and they fought back to protect their kill."

Daxius getting used to the random trivia Achilles was spouting, and decided to take advantage of it. "What do they do with the pearl? The Tuskens, I mean."

"They have no use for it. Meat is what they're after, and they only take the claws as trophies."

"So we wait until they're done with it?"

"Highly inadvisable; by that time the carcass will be swarming with scavenger animals. You're likely to get an arm bitten off if you try then."

"Well then what in stars do we do?" asked Walush.

"I haven't the slightest."

"Let's head back to the ship and rework our strat--" began Daxius, but the sands behind them suddenly exploded. Three Tusken Raiders burst up out of the ground, their coverings blending into the landscape. With a hoarse cry they lifted the barrels of their guns and pointed them squarely into the three crewmembers' faces.

"Ah, dust."

"You don't want to detain us," said Daxius suggestively to the Tusken guarding the tent he and the other two were being kept.

"Hrrrrrr! Rgggh Rrrrgh Hrrgh-uh!" the Tusken said back.

"What did he say?" asked Walush from the opposite corner, tied up just like Daxius.

"How in stars would I know? Barely anyone speaks Tusken in the galaxy, and those who do are either Jawas or Tuskens!"

"Well did you put the mind voodoo on him?"

"I don't think so... Possibly it's because he doesn't know Basic..."

"Possibly? You don't know?"

"Hey, if I was that good, would we even be in the mercenary business?"

"Fair enough. How many times has that mind trick Jedi thing worked for you, out of interest?"

"Urm. Counting this one? Never."

"What do you mean, counting this one? It didn't work!"

"Well, that brings the count to "never"."

"How can you joke at a time like this, you should be figuring out a way for us to escape, or--"

"Go to sleep."

Walush suddenly cut off mid-sentence, his head falling to his chest as he began snoring loudly.

"Huh. Go figure, it works for a change." said Daxius.

The Tusken looked over at the source of the alarming sound and howled for another guard, the two of them conversing gruffly before motioning towards the prisoners. A decision was seemingly made and the second guard hauled the unconscious body of Achilles out the tent.

Dragging Achilles to a second tent across the sandpath, the Tusken kicked the clone painfully in his abdomen, flipping him over as he took out a knife. The pain sent Achilles blurringly into consciousness, and upon seeing an unfamiliar face wielding a weapon above him, his first instincts kicked in.

Achilles' legs moved of their own accord, snapping out and kicking the Tusken's legs out from under him. The Tusken fell to the ground, Achilles flipping over atop his body as he grabbed at the knife, turned it around and plunged it into the Tusken's chest. As the Tusken wailed its last cry, Achilles' eyes flickered as he realised what he had just done.

"What in stars... I... he died so... easily..." he whispered in horror, but was unable to continue this train of thought as another two Tusken guards ducked into the tent, gaderfii sticks at the ready. At the sight of one of their own dead, they raised the alarm with hooting yells.

Daxius was discreetly untying his knots when his guard turned to hear the cacophony of yells that engulfed the camp. Cursing under his breath, Daxius shut his eyes tightly and willed his bonds to break with an audible snap. The guard turned to find both his prisoners gone, and proceeded to raise his own alarm.

Achilles looked down at the five other bodies he had laid down to rest, his hands splattered in blood. His growing horror was equal only to his confidence that nothing could stop him short of a bullet to the brainpan. Once threatened, he instinctively went straight for the kill, and the scary part was that even though he consciously didn't want to, something deep inside him simply killed, mercilessly, with a sense of... peacefulness.

"So avoid more confrontations," Achilles whispered to himself. He looked down at his attire; he was still wearing the thin flight suit, but his gear had been taken away, most of it confiscated after a gaderfii stick to the back of the head knocked him unconscious. So where would they have kept the gear they took from prisoners?

A thought occurred. The coming of age ceremony; possibly the equipment had been offered to the newest warrior, so that he might scavenge its parts to create a personal gaderfii weapon. So where would the newest warrior be? Or rather, where would the equipment be; Achilles had a sickening feeling about what might become of the newest warrior should he come face to face with him. His fingers almost itched at the thought of another kill. The equipment would most likely be in a tent with other scavenged parts, which logically would be... where?

No random tidbit of information welled up to help him out. Very well; search every tent, without being seen, despite the fact that every Tusken in the camp was after him and he had no clue where to begin his search. And try not to kill anyone else. Easy enough, not counting the last part.

Walush was snoring loudly as Daxius struggled to drag him behind a tent. Tusken Raiders had suddenly begun stampeding about the campsite. Daxius looked down at the Dug as he realised the sound of his snoring would soon give them away.

"You want to wake up!" hissed Daxius. The Dug continued snoring.

"Wake up!!" Daxius waved his hand frantically at the Dug. Walush continued snoring.

"Dust!!" Daxius clenched his fists in frustration. He tried to collect his thoughts; he needed his pistols, and he needed a way out. He also needed to find Achilles; the pistols would help him do that. So where were his pistols? Confiscated. Where were they confiscated to? Somewhere. Daxius grimaced at this largely unhelpful internal dialogue. He considered reaching into the Force to sense for his pistols, but he already felt sick from telekinetically breaking apart his ropes and mind tricking Walush into sleep. He hadn't used the Force regularly for over half a decade; Kamino had been his first attempt in a long time. Catching a lightsaber blade whilst shielding his hands with the Force had sent him unconscious for quite a few hours and retch blood; Daxius wasn't looking forward to a repeat incident. So how to locate his gear? Search every tent whilst the camp was in an uproar. Why was there a commotion, anyway? But that wasn't important; there was an easy way to navigate the camp without being noticed.

Daxius's Tusken guard pointed at the empty tent and crooned angrily, motioning towards where the prisoners were to another guard. The other guard nodded and ducked out of the tent, another long call being heard. The first guard shook its head at this bizarre turn of events and turned back to the tent, in surprise finding one of its prisoners suddenly reappeared.

The guard warily stepped up to the human, his gaderfii stick pointing out. He poked the human's side; when the limp body didn't respond, the guard turned to go tell the others that he had found one of the missing prisoners. He didn't get a chance however as Daxius tackled him to the ground, punching him in the head and knocking him out. Pulling the body into a corner, Daxius began dressing himself in the Tusken's clothing.

Achilles slipped into the shadow of an alcove as a pair of Tuskens stormed past. He waited until they were out of sight, then entered.

'There,' he thought. Shelves made from bantha bones filled the niche, stacked with rows of salvaged weapons and parts. Several of the weapons clearly belonged to the mercenaries killed near the krayt corpse; the blood was still drying. Achilles spotted his utility belt, and reached for the commlink. Pulling it out, he radioed back to the FireStorm.

"FireStorm, come in, this is KL-335, come in please."

"--Who's this?--"

"Quit messing around! The captain, Walush and I have been captured and are currently trapped in a Tusken camp, we need backup!"

"--Sorry, you must have the wrong comm channel, there's nobody called Achilles or Walush aboard the FireStorm. Ending transmission.--"

"Orian! ORIAN! What in blazes..."

A sudden movement from the corner of his eye caused Achilles to fly into action. Rolling over to his side, he flipped a rifle by its strap with his foot and caught it, lifting it and aiming it at a Tusken who was standing by the exit. The Tusken lifted its hands in surprise as Achilles pulled the trigger, but the gun jerked upwards of its own accord and wrenched free from his hands, flying to the Tusken's grip. The Tusken fell to it's knees as it pulled off its headwrap, revealing Daxius, who began dry retching.

Achilles was wide-eyed with horror at what he had nearly done, and scrambled to his feet to help the captain up. Daxius waved him away, motioning to a sack nearby the door. Achilles picked up the sack with confusion, opening it to find Walush snoring loudly inside.

"Get him in here," Daxius said hoarsely.

Achilles dragged Walush inside, checking to see if any Tuskens were nearby. None. He turned his attention back to the captain, who was slowly putting on his gear.

"I radioed back to the ship..." started Achilles, as Daxius cut him off.

"I know, I heard."

"We need to radio in again, I wasn't able to get a clear signal across I don't think..."

"No. There's no point calling in again, they're in no position to help us."

"What are you talking about?"

"The FireStorm has been compromised. Somebody has seized control of the ship."

"How do you know?"

"When you radioed in, you reported yourself as 'KL-335', probably a slip up of habit."

"KL-335?"

"Your clone name."

"Ah."

"Anyway, almost immediately after, Orian said that there wasn't anybody called 'Achilles' onboard the FireStorm. You never mentioned your name in that transmission, so she's obviously lying, but in a way that makes it obvious to us. She was trying to warn us not to go back to the ship."

"So what do we do?"

"We go back to the ship."

"Good."

Achilles pulled on a leather duster over his arsenal of weapons. Brandishing a large Trandoshan stun rifle, he and Daxius, who was carrying Walush, slipped out of the Tusken tent, narrowly avoiding the searching guards. They reached their speeders, kept near the outskirts of the camp, as night began to fall, and stunned the animals guarding them. Silently, they disappeared from the camp, two shadows across the sands.

They got just within visual range of the FireStorm when they saw it explode in a giant fireball of debris.