DISCLAIMER
I don't own anything.

Constantine jabbed the shovel into the sand, and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. It was hot, really hot. It was always hot on Tatooine, but today was odd. Normally Constantine didn't mind the heat, but today was ridiculous. His father, Alexander, had sent him out to dig a foundation for the new vaporator they were getting today, but he had only been out for an hour and felt he was going to collapse.

He sat back. He had dug a considerable pit so far, and decided he could take a short break. Pulling out his canteen, he drank the last few drops, and nothing more came out. Constantine shook it, and threw it across the pit. He stood up, and shakily walked towards his house.

The house, like all the other buildings in Mos Estal, was made of adobe; sand, clay, the works. It was small on the outside, but it went underground a floor, and there were many adjoining buildings. Constantine walked into the kitchen, and to the sink. He grabbed a glass, and filled it to the brim. Chugging half of it, he dumped the rest over his head, letting the cool liquid flow over his face. It felt good.

Constantine walked to the fridge, but he saw himself in the mirror his mother, Marina, had put on the wall. Constantine had recently turned 15, and he was awkward. His arms and legs seemed far too long sometimes, yet sometimes not long enough. His thin black hair clung to his scalp, matted with sweat and water. His light brown tunic and breeches hung loosely around his skin, too big on him. He shook his head and turned away.

Opening the fridge, he pulled out a hunk of cheese. He walked to the table and sat down, grabbing a knife and cutting off a slice.

"You know, you should really wait for dinner."

He started, and spit cheese all over the table, turning for the voice. He was met by a barrage of giggles, and sighed. His best friend, Tanya, stood at the door. Constantine invited her in, and she sat at the table, still smiling. Constantine grinned, and offered her the cheese. She waved it away.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Marina wanted me here early, so I could help her prepare the roast," She said.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him just how hungry he was. He remembered catching the desert boar: it was huge, and had given quite a struggle, but his father had finally managed to take it down. He knew the meat was going to be good.

"Do you know where she is?" Tanya asked, tearing him from his memory.

"I think she's out back, fixing one of the vaporators," He answered. She smiled at him, and walked out the door. He watched her leave, this time with a special liking.

Tanya was pretty. They had known each other all their lives, and she had developed early. Recently, he had begun to notice. Whenever she was around, he felt weird. He was happy, but seemed to do everything wrong. It, like his limbs, was awkward.

Constantine shook his head and went back to his snack. He ate, thinking heavily of Tanya, for several minutes, when he was interrupted by a loud scream. He leapt out of his chair and ran outside, to see several Sand People running across the desert, holding large bundles in their arms. He saw his father running toward them, his blaster rifle in hand.

With a loud curse, Constantine ran out, heading for the marauders. He grabbed the shovel as he passed, stumbling into a hit, smashing one across the face. It fell to the sand, dropping its bundle, and Constantine jabbed it repeatedly in the chest and face. The Tusken Raider finally stopped moving.

Constantine felt a sharp pain across his back, and turned, blocking a second hit of a Gaffi stick with his shovel. The Raider jabbed its stick forward, and Constantine barely intercepted it, knocking the weapon away. He hit it in the stomach with his shovel, and kicked it in the leg. The Raider screamed, and suddenly blew to the side.

Constantine looked at his father, who had just saved him, and nodded. He saw the Sand People leap atop their banthas, and ride away. Whirling around, he saw three storm troopers running towards them, firing blasters and waving their arms. He looked down at the bundle and grimaced, wondering what it was. Before he could look, he knew he had to get to the Sand People.

He turned and ran back for the garage. He knew that if he could get to his landspeeder he could catch them. Constantine tripped, sprawling in the sand. He openly cursed adolescence, and stumbled to his feet, staggering forward.

He threw open the door, and slid into the driver's seat of his speeder, punching the ignition. The car roared to life, and Constantine blasted out of the garage.

Halfway across the yard, the speeder jolted. Constantine looked back, to see his father hanging off the back seat.

"Dad!"

He slowed to almost a complete stop, and allowed the man to climb on.

"Dad, are you all right? Where's mom?" He asked, fearing the worst.

Alexander was silent for a long time. Finally, as they raced across the plain, he spoke, startling Constantine.

"They took her. The bastards ran in, grabbed her, and ran out before I could do anything."

He said no more, and Constantine gritted his teeth. Those bundles were his mother, and…

"Tanya…" He whispered, not noticing his father nodding.

"So what do we do?" He asked tenderly, already knowing the answer. His father said nothing, and Constantine was silent.

"How did they get so far ahead?" Constantine grumbled to himself. They had lost the trail several miles back, picked it up again, only to lost it once more. Constantine had parked the speeder, and gotten out, to try and find tracks. Alexander had stayed to guard the car.

Constantine stumbled, and fell over, rolling down a large hill. He cursed loudly, and got to his feet, looking around. He saw large imprints in the sand, and realized, exulted, that he had rediscovered the trail.

"Dad! Dad, where are you? I found tracks! Dad!" He yelled.

"I'm right here son!" His father replied, the speeder appearing at the top of the hill. It slowly slid down, coming to a stop next to Constantine, "You found the trail?"

"Yes, I found it," He said, climbing into the passenger seat. His father nodded, and they set off.

The sun was setting over the distant mesa. Constantine and Alexander crawled up to the Tusken Raider camp, near a large tent. Alexander had his blaster rifle in hand, and Constantine his father's pistol. They had ditched the speeder a half-mile back, behind a small hill.

Constantine gripped the blaster tightly, and saw his father nod. Alexander pulled a small knife from his belt and jabbed it into the tent hide. It ripped easily, and soon the man had a hole large enough to fit through. He put the knife away, and hefted his rifle, entering the tent. Constantine followed.

The tent was supported by several poles. Attached to each pole, was a person, a hood over their head. There were at least a dozen children, and several adults.

"Marina!" Alexander whispered, going around the tent. "Marina!"

Constantine whispered for Tanya, not knowing which one he saved back at the house. He stopped near one form, and ripped the hood off. He cursed silently; it was his other best friend, Anton! Anton's face was covered in bruises; Constantine saw that he had not gone out without a fight.

He grabbed his knife, and began to saw through the bonds that held Anton to the pole. Before he could finish, a pair of hands roughly grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing? We're here for your mother!" Alexander hissed.

"But Dad, these people are our friends, we have to rescue them!" Constantine whispered back.

His father growled, and shoved Constantine to the ground, going back to the bodies. Constantine immediately went back to Anton. Finally, the body slumped up against his shoulder. Constantine felt his neck, relieved at the healthy pulse.

Alexander walked up, holding Marina over his shoulder. Constantine saw her face, and suddenly felt better, knowing that Tanya was safe back at Mos Estal. "I'm going back to the speeder, try to free as many as you can."

Constantine did not have time to wonder about this change of heart, but figured his father was relieved to find his wife alive and well. "Can you hold Anton?" He asked.

His father nodded, and scooped up the boy. He struggled away, out the back of the tent. Constantine went to the body next to him; a small child. Tearing off the hood, he had to bit back his lip in disgust. The little girl's face was a mass of purple bruises and cuts. She had obviously suffered several hits before being taken.

He cut her bonds, and carried her to the hole in the tent. Going about the room, he freed several others before his father returned. Together, they took them out to the speeder, and arranged them (as comfortably as possible), in the back. In this manner, they managed to free most of the tent, but were down to three more; a man and two children. They children they had no problem fitting into the speeder, but the man was going to be a problem.

Father and son stood in front of the man, freed, and thought about what to do. He was not going to fit in the speeder.