This whole situation just kept getting stranger.
Radio Chatter
We trekked across the desert all afternoon. As evening set in, the squad commander radioed in some distressing news.
The droid tracks had split up and went opposite directions. Why the @#$% would they do that? And did one or both of them have the package? This whole situation just kept getting stranger.
As the suns dropped down below the horizon, we set up camp and assigned watches to keep an eye out for Tuskan Raiders — resident savages who like to hunt people for sport. The locals call them “sandpeople,” but everyone on this planet lives in the sand so that never made any sense to me. I think it was more of a racial slur than anything else.
All was quiet in the night sky when the radio chirped up again. One of the droids was picked up by a large transport of some kind. The good news was, it appeared to be land-based. The vehicle was rolling on some ginormous treads, so it wasn’t likely getting off the ground.
Unfortunately, this meant the droid could travel faster than the squad marching on foot. They’d just have to keep following and hope to discover its destination. The initial tracks looked like it was moving toward Anchorhead. But if that thing hit a solid crossroads, it would be almost impossible to tell where it went.
In another twist to this mystery, Anchorhead was in the opposite direction the droid had been walking. Looked to us like it was just zig-zagging to throw us off the trail. If we were lucky, the transport would rendezvous with the other droid and we’d catch them both.
I felt kinda bad for the other squad. Here we were camped out and getting some rest, but they were gonna have to march all night just to keep from losing ground.
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