Slayers of the Old Republic
Book V: Tatooine
By Michael Weyer
Buffy, Bastila, Vance, Mission and HK heard the sounds of battle echo over the sands. They had spotted the Jawa sandcrawler earlier, which wasn't too hard. The large metallic vehicle was almost three stories high so it stood out among the vast emptiness of the sands. "HK, can you tell what's going on?" Vance asked as they started to run.
"Scanning: Readings indicate a half-dozen Tusken Raiders attacking, Master," the droid repeated as it followed. "Theory: I am guessing they are attacking as Tuskens rarely chat with other meatballs. Conclusion: I believe we are finally going to enjoy some violence, Master!"
Buffy had her lightsaber in hand as they came within sight of the sandcrawler. Sure enough, a half dozen Sandpeople were attacking it. They seemed less than human, waving about their graffi sticks as a few others fired rifles at the sandcrawler. They were dressed from head to toe in robes and bandages, ever inch covered, goggles and air masks making them look even more inhuman.
By the sandcrawler were a small pack of humans trying to make a stand against the invaders. There were the bodies of a couple of Raiders down but the rest were moving in fast. The sound of lightsabers igniting caught their attention and they turned to see the Jedi moving in.
Buffy leapt up, swinging her blade down in a strike aimed at one of the Raiders. She was a bit surprised at how quickly he moved out of the way, swinging his stick at her head. Buffy managed to duck it and swung her, her lightsaber cutting through the stick and then into the Raider's chest. Vance grunted as one stick hit him in the side but kicked her foe back. He quickly stabbed his lightsaber down to kill the Raider.
Mission and HK were laying out some cover fire. The Twi'lek was firing fast, more for effect. HK's shots were cold and deadly in precision, each shot lethal as he cut two Raiders down before Bastila could reach them. The yellow double-bladed lightsaber took care of the rest.
The group moved to the sandcrawler. They could see the men there dressed in normal, if somewhat more expensive, clothing, the leader holding his side and nodding. "Thank you," he gasped. "Those Raiders had us beat!"
"Who are you guys?" Buffy asked.
"We do some freelance work for Czerka," the man said, his face darkening. "They're afraid to send their own employees out here so they make sure we take the risks, at a lesser cost."
"So you work here?" Buffy asked, hitching a thumb to the sandcrawler.
"We help out the Jawas with scavenge work, trading and such," the man answered. "We were just making a deal with them over some moisture vaporators when the sandpeople attacked.
"It's been happening often?" Bastila asked.
The man nodded. "The Raiders don't take kindly to intruders on what they consider their lands. It's been getting more violent lately and we're just not as equipped to handle it."
"Have you tried, I don't know, talking to them?" Buffy asked in a slightly sardonic tone.
The man sniffed. "If you can get close to their village, good luck! Like I said, they don't take kindly to intruders." He looked at the dead Raiders and shook his head. "And I doubt they'd be any more open to those who killed members of their clan."
He winced and held his side. "I'm sorry, I have to get this wound checked out and see to my men. Thank you again."
As he walked off, the others moved together. "Options?" Buffy openly asked.
Vance looked at the bodies of the Tuskens and rubbed his chin. "We could try dressing in these robes and infiltrate."
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Right…and when they find out we killed some of their guys to get the robes, that'll roll out the red carpet."
Vance blanched. "Good point."
Buffy took a breath. "Well, I think this is a case for a tried and true approach. We go right up to their front door."
"Statement: Excellent idea, Master! A frontal assault is one of my specialties!"
Bastila closed her eyes and once more wondered what she had done to deserve this.
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The Sandpeople village was located at a far end of the Dune Sea. It was closed off by a high wall with Banthas wandering about. The group took notice of the large gun turrets at the entrance, aimed outward, proof the Sandpeople were more technologically adept than they seemed.
They hadn't gotten far when a trio of Raiders moved in, weapons aimed at them. One let out a series of growls. "HK, quick, tell him we're not attacking!" Buffy yelled.
The droid let out a series of odd growls that seemed to throw the Raiders off. The lead one bent his head before answering. HK-47 turned to her. "Result: I believe we have succeeded in confusing him, master. We have shown and interest not common among outsiders."
"Apologize for the intrusion. We mean them no harm."
"Resignation: I will do as you ask, master, but I have a bad feeling about this course of action." He turned back to the guard. "Translation: Gu rah hurak ip ip. Eyaak urk urk." HK-47 said.
The Sand Person responded, and HK-47 gave a short answer before turning to Buffy. "Translation: He is expressing disbelief…as am I…but his duty requires that we report to the Chieftain. Extrapolation: It would seem that we are at least worthy of curiosity, for the moment. I would much rather this get bloody, master, but it is your call."
The Raiders led them into the center of the village. The Chieftain was dressed in slightly fancier robes, bits of metal salvaged from the desert (or the corpses of unlucky intruders) fashioned into talismans or sewn into his headscarves. Though the group could not understand his words, his tone and his contempt were obvious.
"Translation," HK-47 began. "He is demanding to know why he should let us survive this encounter, master."
"Tell him we wish a peaceful solution to the attacks on his people."
HK-47 made a series of noises that sounded more like broken gears and growls than actual language. The chieftain replied in the same language. "Translation: He claims he has no reason to believe you, master. Your kind taint this land with machines and your uncaring, ignorant feet. He requires proof of your good faith. We must make a contribution to his people to show we are not a threat. Query: May I blast him now, master?"
Vance winced. "We're outnumbered and outgunned at the moment, so not yet. Ask him what he would like as an offering."
HK-47 translated this, and the chieftain gave his answer. "Translation: He wants to move his people far from Anchorhead, but they have not built up sufficient stores of water. He says you must aid him. He wants moisture vaporators from the Czerka. If you deliver them, he will reduce his attacks on the miners and will leave this area soon."
"HK-47, tell the chief he has a deal," Buffy announced. "We'll get him the vaporators."
Again, HK-47 spoke her wishes, the Chieftain responded, but they felt almost comic dismissal in the chieftain.
"Translation: He does not believe you, but we have amused him. He will return our weapons and escort us from the enclave. If we bring the vaporators with us, we will be allowed to return. He will wait, but he does not believe we will return."
"Really?" Buffy smiled widely. "Now I just love defying people's expectations."
"She does, at that," Bastila agreed. "I'm convinced it's her purpose in life."
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Buffy had never been a huge believer in fate until she started to be trained in the Force. It had opened her up to how things could happen that seemed dissimilar but could end up linking together in ways that could help. In this case, a simple random rescue opened up a way to solve their current problem.
"Here you go," the leader of the group of men by the sandcrawler said as he handed over several vaporators. "Thanks a lot. This is a lot more than the Jawas would have paid."
"Happy to help," Vance said as he handed over several hundred credits. Mission and Buffy hefted the vaporators before handing them to HK. "Exclamation: Oh please, Master! I am no simple labor droid!"
"HK, carry them or I break you open for some manual reprogramming," Buffy threatened.
"Opinion: You are a harsh and cruel mistress. I think I may like you."
Buffy rolled her eyes up. "I actually miss Spike in his pre-soul and chip days. I do."
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The Sandperson at the gate had his face covered but he seemed surprised to see the group come up. As HK relayed Buffy's message that they had the vaporators, the surprise grew larger. "Translation: He is stunned by this, but his duty does require him to take us to his chieftain."
If Buffy was able to read the Chieftain correctly, she detected surprise from him. Obviously, he had not expected them to return. When they held out the vaporators, she sensed astonished pleasure from him. His advisors gasped.
"Translation: He had left you alive as an amusement, master. He had not expected you to keep your word. He says outsiders are incapable of such. But since you have proven honorable, he shall keep his word and stop the attacks, giving you his gaffi as peace offering to your kind."
"You may tell him I am honored."
HK-47 translated once more and turned to the others. "Statement: I would much rather this become bloody, master, but it is your call."
"I'd like to ask him some questions, if I may?"
"Protocol: If you want this sadly peaceful arrangement to continue, be careful what you ask."
"Ask him about the relics in the desert."
A barrage of grunting and growling followed. HK-47 swiveled his red metal head to her. "They know of what you speak, and have given me directions to it. They say that a strange piece of outsider technology is being guarded by a krayt dragon and has been for several years."
"So much for this being easy," Vance said.
Buffy shrugged. "Well, my only other question - ask them about the captive Jawas and an outsider named Griff."
Another exchange of growls and grunts followed. "Translation: The Jawas have outlived their usefulness and are free to go. As for this 'Griff,' he says that his mere presence is an insult, a defilement of their home and land. Extrapolation: It is doubtful they would waste the effort to kill him. Shall we do it ourselves, master?"
"No!" Mission yelled. "We're not going to kill him!" She paused and then shrugged. "At least, not until we hear what he has to say."
"Query: Then there is the chance he may be executed? Oh, good."
Two warriors escorted them to the holding cells. The first holding pen six captive Jawas. They twittered about in their odd language as HK faced Vance. "Translation: They express happiness at being freed from their capture, Master and will return to Anchorhead." His voice switched to disappointment. "Query: I assume I am not allowed to blast them as they leave?"
"You assume correctly," Vance said, fighting back impatience at the droid's blood-lust.
"Statement: Master, must you continue to disappoint me?"
In the second cell, a blue-skinned Twi'lek in worker's coveralls looked up at them as they walked in. "Uh…I'm a bigshot with Czerka. A very high-ranking executive. You'll be rewarded greatly if you free me!"
"Griff?" Mission said as she came forward. "Griff, it's me, Mission! Don't you recognize your own sister?"
Griff stared, blinking before breaking into a smile. "Mission? Is it really you?" He seemed more anxious than overjoyed to see her. "I heard Taris was destroyed! I thought you were dead! Joy of joys, my little sister is alive!"
"I... I have to ask you something, Griff," Mission said, nervously. "It's important. I ran into Lena. She said... she said it was your idea to leave me on Taris. It's not true, is it?" Her eyes begged him to tell her she's wrong, that Lena lied, that they would be a happy family now, that everything was alright... but Griff couldn't withstand lying to his own sister, it seemed – not with the puppy eyes she pulled on. Maybe he realized he already lied too much to the girl. Or not.
"Ah, well... there's the truth and then there's the truth, you know?" he said evasively. "I always meant to go back to Taris, sis. Just as soon as I had the credits to pay off my debts. But credits have been hard to come by," he quietly added, obviously embarrassed.
Mission's eyes widened, the pleading immediately evaporating. Shock was replacing it. She obviously never thought her brother – her own brother, who looked after her for all those long years – would do such a careless thing. "You mean it's true?" she asked, mortified. "It was your idea to leave me there? I'm your sister - how could you abandon me like that?"
"Come on, sis. You didn't need me to look after you anymore," Griff pleaded. Perhaps he cared, after all. "You may have been young, but you knew how to take care of yourself. Besides, you're here now - everything worked out fine." He said with a shrug, as if he knew how things would turn out from the beginning.
"That's it?" Mission demanded, "That's all you have to say to me after all these years after deserting me on Taris?"
Griff gulped slightly, his eyes moving to his feet, "Uh... well, I... I wanted to thank you, and, uh, you look like you're doing well. Financially, I mean. Say... um... could you spare me a few credits to get back on my feet?"
"You... you're hitting me up for credits?" Mission asked angrily, "I don't believe this! Lena was right about you, Griff! We should have just left you to the Sand People! Don't talk to me anymore - ever!" She turned away adamantly, folding her arms.
"Huh... that didn't go well." Griff muttered, "Sis always was a little too fiery for her own good. She'll cool down in time."
"Don't bet on it, Griff," Buffy said with a smirk. The Twi´lek noticed them.
Griff dismissively waved his hand, "Ah, she'll be all right. We had our fights before. Too bad, though. I really could have used a helping hand right now. You may have saved my life, but I don't have a single credit to my name. Say, you wouldn't be able to spare me some credits? Just till I get back on my feet, you know?"
Vance rolled his eyes. "Pal, I've been around enough to see a con man when I meet one. And you reek of the stench."
"Walking slime is the term I'd use," Buffy added.
"Err... I guess you've been talking to Lena too," Griff said nervously, "Okay, I'll have to get by without your credits. I always do. Besides, I've already got a job lined up for me. Greeta, the manager over at the Czerka supply shop, said I could come work for him if I ever get tired of the mines. I think I'll go take him up on his offer." He thought for a second - it looked painful - then he added, "You know, maybe there's something else you can help me with."
"Oh, brother," Mission said, turning back to him. "What are you talking about now, Griff?"
"As you may know, tach glands can be refined into a very potent powder," Griff said in a somewhat pompous tone, as if he wasn't explaining something everyone in the galaxy knew. "It's the primary ingredient in Tarisian ale - that's what makes it so strong. Of course, now that Taris is pretty much wiped from the face of the map Tarisian ale has become somewhat scarce - and uh... very, very valuable. Luckily, I know the secret recipe!"
Mission sniffed. "That I can back up. Griff always knew his way around alcohol."
"I know this guy... he's with the Exchange," Griff explained. He didn't seem to notice the groans everyone let out. "Now, if I give him a small sample of Tarisian ale he says he can synthesize it and reproduce it in mass quantities. Problem is, I need one of those tach glands to make the first batch. And now that Taris is a smoking ruin, the only place to find tach is on Kashyyyk."
"Timing sucks, pal," Buffy told him. "We just came from there."
"Sorry, like I said before I don't have any credits on me. And Greeta won't lend me any credits. I mean, it's like he doesn't trust me to pay him back or something."
"I cannot imagine where that idea came from," Bastila dryly intoned.
"But you come through on this and I promise you'll get a huge payday down the road. Two... no! Three thousand credits! How's that sound?" he asked desperately.
Mission shook her head in frustration. "Griff, are you blind? Can't you see you're talking to a Jedi?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "We're out here trying to save the galaxy! We can't waste time on this!"
"Please, you have to help me!" Griff said, dropping to his knees in front of them, "I... I promised this guy from the Exchange a sample of Tarisian ale! If I don't come through for him he's going to break my legs... or worse! Come on, Mission - I'm your brother! I'm family! You can't turn your back on me!" he begged.
Mission rolled her eyes, "Forget it, Griff, I'm not falling for that line again. You'll have to find your own way out of this mess!"
"Look, you bring me a single tach gland and you not only save my life but you get a piece of this great business opportunity!" Griff said, still groveling, "I mean, you can't pass this up! Think about it and you'll see I'm right." He gave that look of his, the one that had always made her heart melt and made her forget all about the bad stuff he'd done.
Unfortunately for Griff, two years living mostly alone on a planet that was blasted to pieces had made Mission immune to his charms. She turned to HK. "HK, warm up the flamethrower!"
"Statement: I only take such orders from my Masters…"
"If Griff isn't out of here in ten seconds, feel free to bake him! The slower the better!"
"Revised statement: But when it comes to slow killing, I am open to anyone!" The droid lifted his wrist as his flamethrower popped out. "Statement: Prepare to be baked, male blue meatbag! Countdown: 10. 9. 8. 7."
Griff was already running away as fast as he could, out of sight before HK could finish. The droid lowered his arms and let out an electronic sigh. "Query: May I hunt him down for you?"
"Nah, let him go," Mission said. She sighed and shook her head. "I was just hoping Lena was lying but…I guess deep down I always knew she wasn't. And now he's going to get himself in a new mess."
"Whatever happens, he brought it on himself," Bastila said calmly.
Mission nodded in agreement, "Maybe a couple broken knee-caps will do him some good!" she said venomously, "Maybe that's the kind of jolt he needs to turn his life around! Only... what if they do something worse?" She suddenly looked worried, "They might kill him! I don't want him to die; he doesn't deserve that. But I can't just keep supporting his crazy schemes. Someone has to teach him a lesson!"
"Look, kid. You can´t teach him the lesson he has to learn himself," Vance gently told her.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," she agreed, nodding. "I'm not going to change him. Griff is going to keep on being Griff."
They began to walk out as Buffy put a hand on Mission's shoulder. "Family can be hard," she said. "My sister got herself into trouble a lot and she had to get caught in order to learn her lesson."
Mission was surprised. "You never mentioned a sister, Buffy."
Buffy smiled. "Yeah, Dawn. Great kid." She looked Mission over and the smile broadened. "In fact, I think you and her would have gotten along great."
"Really? I remind you of her?" Mission seemed rather pleased to hear this.
"In some ways," Buffy said. She frowned. "Well, except for the using guns. I would have shot Dawn myself if she'd even handle one!"
Vance chuckled. "Sounds like she takes after you."
"You have no idea," Buffy muttered as they headed away from the village and back to the wastes of the desert. Vance moved close to Buffy as she started to talk about Dawn. Neither noticed the deep frown on Bastila's face as she saw them close. And neither saw the tiny flash deep within her eyes.
A flash of fear.
Foreboding, eh? Next one wraps up Tattooine with an encounter with a dragon and a mother-daughter reunion among others.