As they completed their fifth day on patrol, he continued to mark discrepancies on topographical maps, muttering in disgust each time he found another mistake. These were the worst charts he had ever used. In the back passenger compartment sat Josten, recently transferred from Giedi Prime. Accustomed to industrial facilities, gray skies, and dirty buildings, Josten gazed out over the sandy wastelands, studying hypnotic dune patterns. He spotted the knot of dust off to the south, deep in the open Funeral Plain.
Harvesters shoot a plume like a cone into the air, straight and thin.
With a shrug, Garan jerked the 'thopter controls and soared toward the low, reddish-brown cloud. After so many tedious days, they would have gone out of their way to investigate a large rock sticking out of the sand. A mottled rust color stained the sands a darker ochre, as if blood from a wound had dried in the hot sun. I'll set down for a closer look. As the 'thopter settled onto the churned sands, Kiel popped open the hatch.