Looking back to make sure no one had followed him, Chinnatah at last entered the cave, his loyal bantha companion following him closely. He sat quietly down on the dusty floor, pulling his legs up to his chest after gently setting down his gader stick. He had left his projectile rifle at the camp, shunning the weapon. He would take his chance against Tatooine's more hostile predators with his more traditional Tusken weapon.
The cavern loomed ominously before him, but he could only see a vague outline of the cave walls near the entrance.
For some reason, the darkness was comforting to him. There was a certain stillness about it that made him feel as if his senses were heightened. Every time Vrentlla shifted, Chinnatah could hear the rustling of her coarse fur against the ground; he didn't need to see her to know where she was. Such awareness to his surroundings would prove fortunate in a battle against anyone that sought to enter the cave.
The bantha sat down beside him, carefully pressing her larger bulk against his thin body, trying to be comforting. Patting her hornless head gently, Chinnatah stared into nothingness for a minute. Then, with an inquisitive hand, he found the small crevice into which he had previously deposited a few supplies in the case of an emergency or a desperate need to be away, the latter of which he was currently feeling.
He often felt a need to be away—there were many Ghorfa customs that he shied away from. He had come to the cave several times when adolescent Tuskens were performing the ritual bloodrites they had been tasked with. He knew his clan didn't approve of his refusal to take part in the ritual, and unless he grandly proved his worthiness when it was time for his rite of passage, he knew he would probably be exiled from his clan.
He couldn't help it, though. Simply watching the bloodrites made him sick. He remembered the first time he had witnessed a bloodrite a few birthing seasons previously. An adolescent Tusken had captured a desert wraid and brutally tortured it, managing to prolong its life for several sunsets and receiving a lot of admiration for how long he had been able to keep it alive.
Sometimes, in his sleep, Chinnatah could still hear the pained cries the desert wraid had made before its spirit had been crushed by pain...
Chinnatah had been even more sickened when, half a birthing season ago, Mrekln had caught and performed the bloodrite on a human. Performing it on a sentient being gained the greatest amount of prestige, and Mrekln had been very proud of his success. Chinnatah had visited the cave many times during that period, suppressing the urge to retch, as he would lose precious body fluids in doing so.
Shivering with the memory of the bloodrites and trying to wipe such thoughts from his mind, Chinnatah grabbed a hubba gourd and began to eat it after removing the rags covering his mouth. Hubba gourds were tough-skinned melons that tended to be difficult to digest. The fruits were especially important to Tusken Raiders and Jawas, for they had a variety of uses. Perhaps most important was their surprisingly nutritious content, which allowed Tuskens to subsist on a steady diet of hubba gourds. Tuskens did, however, sometimes hunt womp rats for food or—more rarely—eat banthas that were too old or sick to serve as transportation. In most cases, it took a trained eye to find the hubba gourds, despite the fact that the fruits were covered with tiny reflective crystals. The suns and the sand of the vast desert wasteland often played tricks on the inexperienced eye, and not all that sparkled was a hubba gourd. Although there was a Healer in every clan, all of the Sand People were taught basic medicinal skills and knew that the rind of the hubba gourd could stop infections, a common occurrence on the skins of belligerent peoples like the nomadic Ghorfa.
After eating his fill—for Chinnatah was not eating out of necessity but out of need for comfort—the rag-clad humanoid handed the remainder of the hubba gourd to Vrentlla, who eagerly but gently ate it out of his hand.
Chinnatah ran his cloth-covered hand through the no-longer-soft fur of the bantha before reaching back into the crevice for a water pouch. Although Tuskens would sometimes steal water from unsuspecting homesteads, this particular pouch of water had been filled at one of the Tuskens' hidden desert oases, the main source of the Sand People's water. The sacred oases were not only difficult-to-find but were also tightly and jealously guarded—and with good reason. Water was precious on Tatooine.
After only a few sips of water, Chinnatah froze. The pouch was swiftly returned to its hiding place, Chinnatah's face was quickly covered (for, other than after bonding ceremonies between male and female Tusken Raiders, seeing another Tusken's face was grounds for either banishment or a duel to the death), and his gader stick was held out. Already standing, the young Ghorfa tensed. Someone else was in the cave.
****
Leia frowned down at the courtyard floor. She felt as if she could sense malicious emotions emanating from the building.
"Politicians," she sighed to herself.
She heard something creak, and her head shot up sharply.
****
Vrentlla let out a low warning growl, a rarity for the normally quiet and unaggressive bantha. Chinnatah stood stock-still, his muscles tensed and his senses finely attuned to his surroundings.
[No need to worry,] a voice said as softly as possible in the Tusken language of guttural grunts and snorts. [Your mother sent me after you, and I saw you disappear into here. This cavern is well-hidden, however, and had I not seen you, I might never have known it was here. It is surprising you discovered it.]
Chinnatah allowed himself to relax somewhat, though not fully, for he had a sneaking suspicion of what was to come. Disappointment at his hiding spot's being discovered did not come; he knew such was to happen eventually.
[You cannot hide from your own father, even if you dare to defy Ghorfa teachings by riding a bantha prematurely. Yes. I have noticed, and I am sure others of the clan have as well. Regardless, you are to be on the raiding party with the rest of us. I will not have you be a liability. You will work as the rest of the clan does. It is nearly time to return to the Needles to wait out the sandstorm season.]
Setting his jaw, Chinnatah followed Xyd'rr'u out of the cave. Whimpering, Vrentlla exited as well, her tail swishing gently against the ground.
****
"Pardon me if I frightened you, milady." The girl—woman?—curtsied, but her fiercely glinting green eyes belied the politeness of the gesture.
Leia stood, suppressing a frown. "It's all right. What is it that you want?" Mentally, she added, And why were you staring at me?
"I merely wished to tell you that you might want to watch your footing..."
"Why is that?" Leia inquired suspiciously, slowly inching her hand toward her hidden blaster. She didn't like this person.
"I wouldn't try that, miss," the girl informed her in monotone. She then began speaking regularly, addressing Leia's question, "Why? Because the ground is rather...slippery out here. After all, a lot of unwanted leaves litter it, if one takes my meaning..." She curtsied again, another glimmer of spite showing in her eyes. "Farewell."
Watching the redhead leave, Leia shivered. Suddenly, she felt she would be a lot safer if she were closer to her father.
Leia waited a few moments before leaving the way the strange girl had, praying she would never meet up with her again.
****
They were nothing but bandits, Chinnatah fumed. He was surveying the carnage around what had once been the outskirts of a Tatooinian town inhabited by innocent people. Some of those living on the outskirts of Anchorhead had managed to escape and would eventually return to rebuild and move on, but the numbers of the slain were far too high for the young Ghorfa's taste.
As Chinnatah watched members from all three tribes salvage what useful tools and equipment they could, he felt as if he were going to be sick. It was their way of life, the uli-ah tried to tell himself, but untaught morals threatened to override necessity. In fact, those morals had actually conquered necessity when the battle had begun, and he had purposefully avoided shooting any of the townspeople. Fortunately, none of the other Tuskens had noticed his uncharacteristically poor aim. Not this time, at least.
Chinnatah heard pained groans, so he turned slightly to look at the banthas. A few were dead, their muttering owners standing beside them and uttering words understood only by themselves. Chinnatah averted his gaze, turning his eye tubes to look at the scavenging Raiders once again. When a Tusken Raider lost his bantha mount, he was considered incomplete, an outcast from his people. The Sand People would not kill such outcasts, however. Instead, the spirit of the dead bantha would decide. If the spirit wanted the Tusken to bond with another mount, when the Tusken was released into the desert he would find a wild bantha, join with it, and return to the tribe. Otherwise, the outcast would hopelessly wander the desert until he met his death.
But Tuskens were not the only ones upset at the loss of their symbiotic partners; some of the Tuskens had died as well, and their bantha mounts were beginning to engage in a frenzy, bashing against each other and causing a ruckus that was ignored by most of the Raiders that weren't in the immediate vicinity. Those mounts which did not kill themselves in such suicidal frenzies would soon be turned loose in the desert to either die or survive on their own.
Forcing his emotions back, trying not to think about the soft brown eyes of his own bantha companion, Chinnatah stepped forward, reluctantly picking through the mangled parts of what used to be a speeder.
The bandits were swift in their work, accustomed to separating junk from "treasure." Their tattered rags and robes only gave them a more ominous appearance as they bypassed the corpses for machines. One Tusken, a female Chinnatah suspected, though because she was a uli-ah she was missing the elaborate jeweled mask and torso-covering sand-shroud typical of adult Tusken Raiders, stared at Chinnatah for a moment before returning to her work. In reality, Tuskens made little distinction between male and female uli-ah; only the clan elders kept records of the uli-ah's genders, for the purpose of arranging marriages when the uli-ah passed rites of passage for adulthood, as well as for upgrading the appearance of the newly recognized adult Tusken Raiders.
Chinnatah ignored her; she had been infatuated with him ever since she had realized his skill at fighting. Again, those morals were tugging at him that told him sentient beings should not be so obsessed with violence.
He thought for a moment about whether he could salvage the piece of gaffi-smashed equipment he held in his hand, dropping it when he heard a blood-chilling howl.
The Tusken bandits scattered, grabbing what they could and jumping onto their mounts or, as was true with the older uli-ah present, jumping onto mounts behind other Tuskens. They urged their surprisingly swift banthas to take them away in single file from where they knew the krayt dragon would soon release its fury. They moved on toward the Needles, a section of the Jundland Wastes, for protection from both the ravaging dragon and the sandstorm season. The adolescent bondless banthas were already waiting in the Needles with a few of the female Tuskens and massifs and the younger uli-ah from the various clans. There was very little Tuskens were afraid of, but krayt dragons were certainly feared by all.
After the sandstorm season, the Sand People would still remain in or near the Needles, for the height of summer was the krayt dragon mating season and the canyons would echo with terrifying howls that even Ghorfa would flee from. Most Tuskens felt a sort of reverence for the krayt dragon, respecting the fearsome beast's killing power, yet one rite of passage for Tusken youngsters was the hunting of a krayt dragon, though such success tales were rare.
This particular roar seemed to belong to a canyon dragon, which was a ten meter tall example of the vicious meat-eating desert reptiles. But even though the canyon dragon was one of the smaller krayt dragons, it could easily cause residents of Tatooine to worry. And so the Tusken Raiders continued on to the Needles. The dead were left behind to gaze blankly after the long line of scuff marks in the sand caused by the Tuskens' banthas, though the sight didn't last for long; the desert wind soon swept all signs of the nomads away.
****
"I'm so glad that's over," Leia sighed, walking with her father to their speeder. On Coruscant, they drove the noisy and obnoxious speeders; had they been on Alderaan, they would probably have ridden the beautiful thrantas, which looked like flying sea-creatures. Leia didn't mind riding in the speeders too much, though; their Alderaanian pilot was an artist who usually had interesting pieces to show Leia.
"I noticed that you disappeared for a little while...You didn't get into too much trouble, I hope?" Bail turned an admonishing eye toward his adopted daughter.
Looking guilty for having left, the young girl looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Father."
"I understand how you feel. Just remember to be careful and keep up that shield Obi-Wan has been encouraging."
"Why?" Leia inquired, stopping to stare earnestly at Bail Organa.
The man sighed. "One day, I will be able to tell you. For now, Leia, just know that it is absolutely necessary."
She nodded, and finally they reached the source of their transportation. But they could tell something was wrong.
Face pale, Bail ordered Leia to stand back, and he opened the speeder, staring at the dead driver. The man's mouth was parted in an eternally silent scream of terror; his eyes were wide, full of surprise, regret, and fear. An inactive vibroblade rested deep in his chest, quietly daring anyone to reach in and take it out. The man's once-white front was drenched in blood which dripped down onto the floor and the driver's seat, staining both scarlet as it pounded out an unceasing rhythm. He had been killed very recently—the blood hadn't coagulated yet.
Bail stared for a moment in horror. Suddenly, he turned Leia away so that she wouldn't have to look at the bloody sight, though he knew she had already seen far too much of it. Bail made a quick call on his comlink, talking in a low voice, and then he hailed a public cab. Bail ushered Leia into the speeder, sitting beside her and giving the cab driver instructions.
Turning to his ashen daughter, Bail held her head against his chest, trying to stroke her hair comfortingly. "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Leia..."
"Wh—wh—?" But no words could express the turmoil Leia was feeling.
Bail shushed her, answering in a bitter tone she had never heard him use before: "Jayk was an artist, Leia. The beautiful works he has shown you—works he put his heart and soul into—they are controversial ones he could not help but make...He hated the Empire, and he didn't try to hide that in his art, though he knew quite well that the Empire controls artistic expression in its own terrible way..."
Trembling, Leia couldn't help but remember the look of terror that had been eternally imprinted on the dead man's eyes. He had been given no real chance at life—he'd been killed for his artistic expression. His death was needless, born out of the fear living in an empire brought about. She had heard stories about what corruption did to people in the Empire—had even heard some of them from her own father. Suddenly, the Empire had dealt Leia a personal blow.
It was that moment that Leia truly began to build up her hatred of the Empire. Now, the stories weren't just stories...
Their driver, Jayk, had always been kind to her. He had a wife and two children back at home. But now that family was incomplete...and always would be.
Leia squeezed her eyes shut tightly as the image of Jayk, of his fear and his innocence and his art, continued to haunt her.
****
Chinnatah stared straight forward through his eyeslits, shifting slightly on the thin saddle he was sitting on, receiving a quick glance over the shoulder from the Tusken sitting in front of him: his father, who clutched the bantha's scalloped, curving horns for a moment as he made sure his son was exhibiting proper uli-ah behavior.
Xyd'rr'u's male bantha grunted, as if to let Chinnatah know that he was still beneath him. Chinnatah gave the bantha a light pat that seemed to satisfy him.
Ahead, seated behind the leader of Chinnatah's tribe, one of the banthaless adult Tuskens sat. Yet another banthaless Raider sat behind a Tusken riding near the leader. The outcasts looked dejected, slumped down in shame. Finally, after the swaying banthas had climbed yet another dune, the lead Raider muttered a sharp command to the other Tuskens in the procession, who stopped their banthas. The extra adult passengers slowly slid off the banthas, their body language conveying what words could not. They went to stand in front of the mounted Ghorfa leader, who slid off his bantha and raised his gaffi stick.
Chinnatah and the other Tusken Raiders climbed down from their mounts, thrashing their gaderffii and gader sticks in the air. Eventually, they stilled, standing at attention with upraised weapons. With a final turn toward the members of the tribe, the outcasts gave a simultaneous cry and walked out into the cruel desert. The Ghorfa tilted their heads toward the twin suns, letting loose a loud cry that sent nearby foraging womp rats scattering and chattering.
Wishing the parting Sand People well, the remaining Tusken Raiders sliced their gader sticks and gaderffii through the air. Chinnatah's well-wishing was not very lively; he couldn't see why these Tuskens had to be left to fend for themselves in the first place. The likelihood that they would be able to find a bantha and rejoin with the tribe was slim to none, and it bothered him.
Xyd'rr'u's bantha bumped him gently with his large horns, sensing his unrest. Chinnatah gently rubbed his hand across the bantha's nose. Why wasn't he able to accept the Tusken way of life?
****
Leia sat down on her bed, still quivering from her earlier shock. Death had always seemed so distant; it had always been just a far-off possibility, never an actual reality. People died, yes, but it had always been people she hadn't known...People she hadn't seen.
She had been sheltered from the reality of death—her mother had died when she was young, and she was barely able to remember her. It was only now that Leia realized how much she had been sheltered. She had finally seen death up close, had smelled its rancid odor...
A bitter taste still lingered in her mouth. She clutched her stomach as bile began to rise up in her throat.
The Empire was responsible for this fear and corruption, and, somehow, one day, she would make sure the Empire paid the price in full.