Oba Diah Moon Gear

Karr sighed. “Well, let’s go find what we can. It’s odd but I almost wish that Pyke was wrong.”

“I understand, sir. He did have a little too much exuberance in his family’s achievement. But if we do find something that connects to the Jedi, then it’s a win-win.”

“True, true,” Karr replied as he strolled down the ramp.

Outside, the air didn’t feel too different from Jakku—hot, dry, and flecked with blown bits of sand and gravel. But the canyon offered a little protection and a lot of shadow, so it wasn’t quite so bad as the desert land from which they’d come. At his hip, Karr wore a canteen he’d found in the ship’s tiny galley area that didn’t remotely qualify as a kitchen; on his face, he had a protective visor he’d found stashed under a seat—so the glare didn’t blind him. He’d taken every precaution possible, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

He set a beacon so he could find his way back and set off, with the droid moving cautiously behind him—bringing up the rear and watching for trouble.

For about an hour they poked through dusty channels, hiked up piles of rock that’d slipped down the canyon walls, and found a number of dead ends with nothing to recommend them at all. They hadn’t seen any sign of other people, either—of any species or potential moral alignment.

For all Karr could tell, the whole moon was deserted.


- Force Collector, Chapter 12