"Gears are grinding," said the technical monitor. "Weg is projecting a probable repair deadline."
Jek Nkik nodded, a barely perceptible movement beneath his hood. But if the other Jawa hadn't seen, it didn't matter. He could tell by Jek's pheromones that he had heard and acknowledged the report. A great percentage of Jawa communication was transmitted via the smells that other species interpreted as simply a bad stench.
Jek sighed. Another reason that Jawas were looked down upon by the other, so-called "higher" members of society. His clan brother and best friend, Het would have scoffed at their ignorance and encouraged the Jawas to take a stand, but Jek doubted his radical ideas would ever amount to much, even in Het's own mind.
Right now, it didn't much matter.
With his leadership skills, Jek was the newly appointed captain of his sandcrawler and leader of this portion of the Nkik clan. To Jek it was a high honor, and he did not take his responsibility lightly. It would be his chance to prove himself and the rest of the Nkik clan as skilled traders, highly valued in Jawa society, and perhaps in "higher" society, too.
He would take the Jawas a step up from smelly, double-dealing scavengers to. . .well, whatever was a step above that.
Beneath his hood, Jek's olfactory organ twitched. He smelled something. He smelled excitement. He smelled adventure. He smelled great merchandise at discount prices! The Jawa dream!
On a premonition, he summoned his helmsman and ordered a course adjustment. Two degrees westward. Thirty-two degrees north. And all ahead full.
Jek stared out at the vast, sandy landscape. Events of epic proportion were going to happen today. He could feel it in his bones.
A few hours later, the sandcrawler passed the bones of a different entity. A huge sand creature, several meters in length, had left its skeletal remains in the desert. Jek felt fortunate that he had not encountered a live one. Those were far more difficult to navigate past.
A slightly younger Jawa rushed into the cockpit. Jek recognized him as one of the clan brothers who assisted his technical monitor. "Sir," he said. "Two of our microgears have shut down and are on the verge of affecting vehicle performance."
Jek didn't have to ask to know that the effect wouldn't be positive. "I'm coming down," he called to the tech.
Jek descended into the bowels of the crawler. Swarming about were dozens of Jawa technicians, their mood evident by the "frantic" pheromone that was in the air. Jek remained calm as he followed his escort toward the malfunctioning gears. Weg, the supervising mechanic, was closely examining the section. Jek stood next to him.
Weg gave him a brief summary of the problem in one quick burst of jabber. Jek scratched his chin in contemplation, a gesture he'd learned from a human in Mos Eisley. The problem was simple enough to determine, which, common sense told him, meant that the solution was probably relatively simple, as well.
Someone handed him a mini-glowlamp, and he shone it into the small crevice where the essential microgears that regulated the power flow throughout the ancient machine were located. They were still moving, but at a much slower pace than normal and in short, jerky ticks. Jek put a light touch with his finger on the gears, feeling the clicking of the teeth, the irregular mechanical pulse of the non-sentient beast.
From his bandoleer, Jek produced a microspanner, a handy tool for working in small places. With practiced dexterity, he inserted the implement into the small space and levered it precisely to a calculated spot. A creature with highly attuned hearing--which included all of the Jawas in the engine room--could hear a slight, but decisive pop. Jek stepped back and shone the light in the hole to make sure his triumph could be seen by all.
The other Jawas stared for a second as the rest of the sandcrawler resumed its normal, labored functioning. Jek patted Weg's shoulder and walked out the room, sensing his clan siblings' olfactory screams of amazement. Even if it wasn't as audible, it was still just as satisfying.
Jek Nkik, the bold crawler captain, had done it again.