Writer's notes: Updated 11 NOV 06. I enjoy playing with light...literally and figuratively and this section begins in darkness and ends lightheartedly. This update expands the look at Calo Nord.

Sand Castles – Part III

Anchorhead – Early Evening

Calo Nord cursed under his breath as he stormed into the Anchorhead Cantina. "I had that bitch in my sights. I don't understand how she became a Jedi, but I'll fry her nonetheless. I suppose killing that other Jedi will have to do for now. I can't believe how pathetic those Sith were…now I'm going to have to recruit new help."

He walked into the cool bar and ordered a drink of his favorite Tarisian Ale as Twi'lek dancers undulated onstage. The price of the ale had gone up considerably since the destruction of Taris, but Nord was not a cheap man. All his life, he had bent and bowed to the will of others and scraped and clawed for his existence. Now, he was his own man and if a mug of Tarisian Ale cost 15 credits a glass, so be it. Now, he could stand tall; the future would be bright for Calo Nord.

I am thankful that those miserable Sith did not notify Malak. I want to be in charge of this kill… like that Rancor years ago. He smiled to himself and turned his attention back to the dancers.

A Jawa approached him, cloaked in a sienna robe. "Bazeebecheebe-"

Nord pushed the tiny creature away. "Get lost, shrimp."

As the Jawa retreated into the gloom, Nord spied a group of scraggly Rodians. "Now there's some people I need to acquaint myself with."

He took a long drink of his ale and then strutted up to the Rodians, who were arguing over the division of some treasure, no doubt pilfered from poor innocents. "Gentlemen…errr, maybe that's not the best term to use," he began.

Several of the Rodians looked up at him, allowing others to steal the valuables from under their noses. "Huh? Youse talking to us?"

Calo chuckled to himself. Not the brightest stars in the galaxy, but they'll do. I'd prefer to do it myself, but I need some extra manpower to eliminate the rest of Aerin's gang.

The short bounty hunter pulled out a sack of credits and held it out before the band. "I have a proposition for you. I need to have some people disappear and they have a lot more money then you have here."

It was all too easy – the unruly gang of Rodians quickly agreed to the promise of treasure. "We gets half of da treasure, right?"

Calo nodded. "I can't carry it all, so you're welcome to it."

Suckers.

"Meet me at the gate to the Dune Sea in two hours. Make sure you're heavily armed," he said and then went back to the bar. A Bith miner had taken his seat and Calo stood in front of the miner, glaring at him until he relinquished the chair.

I can't let sentients push me around. Where would I be then? Just another short punk in the galaxy.

Nord waved at the bartender. "Another ale! Make it quick."

Once I've buried Aerin, Bastila, and that Carth, I can set myself up as the Exchange boss here on Tatooine. I'll have the clout then. What do I tell Malak though…I can't just ignore him. He'll want to know why his targets were killed and not captured. Well, accidents happen.

The glass of ale slid over to him and Calo picked it up, letting the glass cool his hands. A long drink chilled his parched throat and he smiled again.

You know, I don't miss Davik one lick. Sure, he was a decent, corrupt boss, but he was just another boss…another overseer.

Then, images of Calo's horrific childhood flashed through his mind, beatings, torture, and worse. He gripped the glass of ale tighter and tighter until it shattered in his hands. Blood and ale dripped to the floor between his fingers and the shards of glass. With a grunt, Nord pulled out a med pac and rubbed the salve on his palms. He stood without another word and left.

It's time that Calo Nord was his own man.

The Encampment of the Sand People

In the entryway into the encampment, Tusken Raiders brought weapons to bear on the team as they stood. Carth reached down for his pistol as HK twitched. Aerin and Bastila held out their hands to deescalate the situation.

"Quickly, HK, tell them that we mean them no harm," urged Aerin.

The droid gurgled out some Tusken words and the Sand People held their ground, staying their weapons.

"Statement: It would be much easier to barbeque these meatbags as they stand there."

Aerin shook her head. "No, ask them why they attack the mining operations. Tell them that we wish to negotiate."

HK and a powerful-looking Tusken Raider exchanged guttural grunts. The droid then turned back to the group. "Translation: He says that he will refrain from of bashing your head in like an overripe gourd as he is intrigued by your desire to negotiate and somewhat impressed by your audacity. He says that you are unlike the other offworlders. He says, however, that if you wish to negotiate, you must remove the garb of his people as you have not earned the right to wear it."

The young Padawan looked back at the rest of the group and shrugged. She took off her backpack and then pulled off the Tusken robes. The rest of the group followed suit. Aerin began to unzip the backpack to take out her Jedi robes, but the chief immediately commanded them to follow him into an inner room. Carth looked at the two Jedi, clad only in their undergarments, and raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad you invited me along."

Bastila rolled her eyes in disgust. "We are Jedi, not some dancing girls."

Carth countered, "I would beg to differ. Aerin has yet a third career waiting for her at Starlight Entertainment."

The group entered the inner chamber and the Chief sat, setting his large Gaffi stick aside. Some Jawa slaves brought him platters of fruit and a cup of water. He told the group through the droid that the offworlders had no respect for the land; their giant machines tore the earth and dug up the precious innards of the planet.

The offworlders drove the Sand People out, creating abominations that scarred the face of Tatooine.

Aerin asked the Chief what it would take to end their attacks on the miners. The Chief replied that he was considering moving his tribe further away from the offworld settlement, but that it would require moisture vaporators to complete the relocation.

"Tell him we have some vaporators," said Aerin.

"Translation: He would take this in exchange for reducing the attacks on the offworlders," droned HK.

The group agreed. Aerin looked at Carth. "I didn't think it would be this easy. They really are not just the animals that the Czerka would have us believe they are."

"We shouldn't let our guard down though, but you're right. I'm very impressed with your presence of mind. You really calmed the situation down."

The Padawan gave him a half grin and playfully slugged his arm. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Captain."

"Hey, I was just saying what I thought," he said defensively.

Aerin nodded, still with a half smile. "Okay, Captain…. We better call Juhani and have her deliver the vaporators."

They called Juhani and she drove down with the salvaged vaporators. Zaalbar hauled them out of the speeders by himself, showing off his immense strength. The Chief was impressed by the newcomers.

"Translation: The Chief will stick to his end of the bargain. He also made a comment at how pink you are. You humans remind him of desert slime grubs."

Aerin smirked. "I'm sure he's no gem himself…wait, don't translate that. I'm curious, ask him about his people."

"Commentary: He is very volatile. You should tread carefully in this area, Master."

HK asked anyway and the Chief laughed in his bellowing voice. He told them that they would have to earn the right to learn the Tusken people's ways. He told Aerin that she would have to bring him the pearl of a Krayt Dragon. The Chief's guards rocked with laughter at this.

"What's so funny?" she asked HK.

"Conjecture: I do not think he believes you will survive that encounter. The Krayt Dragon is a notorious killer in the Dune Seas."

"Tell him we'll return with the pearl."

The Chief paused, stunned again by Aerin's audacity. He motioned to one of his guards and the guard presented her with the Chief's Gaffi Stick.

"Translation: He is impressed with your nerve. You may accept this as a token of his word and of his grudging respect."

Aerin grasped the Gaffi Stick and stood. "Thank him profusely for me and ask one more thing; may I take the Jawa prisoners with me? Also, is there a Twi'lek prisoner, named Griff here?" she said with a glance toward Mission.

The Chief gurgled a laugh, holding his sides. He motioned to the Jawa and made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

"Translation: These Jawas are of little use to him. Take them and use them as you see fit. As for the worthless green offworlder, he is not worth the effort to kill. Take him and dispose of him as you see fit."

Mission breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, that sounds like Griff."

They gathered up the Jawas and were escorted to a holding cell containing the lazy Twi'lek. A raider opened the door and Griff looked up at the group.

"Oh, thank heavens. The Czerka have ransomed me…by some pretty humans too. Hey, even a Twi'lek. Do you guys have any credits I could borrow?"

Mission groaned. "Griff, don't you recognize me? Is that all you can say, 'thanks for rescuing me, give me credits'?"

"Huh…Mission, is that you?"

The young girl curled her lips back in anger and disappointment. "Lena was right, you meant to leave me on Taris. The Sith leveled the planet and I could've been killed."

Griff put on a sheepish smile. "Well, you're here now, sis. So, it worked out okay…and you have some rich and powerful friends now."

Bastila stepped in. "We don't have time for this…."

"Let's get back to town and we can talk there," Aerin finished.

Bowing and nodding respectfully to their unexpected hosts, they made their departure back into the vast desert. They boarded Juhani's speeder and returned to the observation point. There, Aerin took a few deep breaths and shook out the tension.

Talk about flying by the seat of my pants….

She dozed most of the trip back to Anchorhead, listening to Mission chastise her brother. As she drifted off into limbo, visions flooded her subconscious mind.

Aerin stands on gray stone tiles, gazing out at an azure sea. Wispy clouds float lazily by, framed within a crystal blue sky. She reaches down to pick up an object, the head of a young Cathar woman...Juhani. She looks serenely at the twisted face, seared at the neck by intense energy. A vacant expression covers Aerin's features; her soulless eyes shaded a sickly yellow.

Aerin awoke with a start. The dark sky was clear and cluttered with stars. She shivered in the cold Tatooine night; the desert was a poor insulator and given to extremes of temperature. The Padawan noticed that a blanket had been placed over her and Mission gave her a wink.

"Aerin, thank you for rescuing Griff. I know I made the right decision to join you. What is it like, being a Republic soldier? What do I have to do to get in the Academy?"

Aerin thought for a moment and far off images entered her waking mind.

"Get your filthy maggot face down in the mud, Plebe!" yelled a training instructor as young Aerin lowered herself on quivering arms into a pool of mud. As commanded, she blew bubbles into the murky water. As she struggled to raise herself, she said weakly, "Fifty…."

The Training Instructor put his heavy boot on her back as he stood there. "I don't recall giving you permission to recover! Start again…One…."

Aerin exhaled a long breath as the memory faded. "It's a humbling experience, Mission. Perhaps it was what I needed. When we get home, I can help you prepare an application if you wish."

"I think I'd like that. I wouldn't normally say something like this, but you and Bastila…even Carth, have filled something that was missing in my life. Up to when we met you, it was just me and Z, rooting around in the Undercity, digging up trash. I never knew how much was out here in the galaxy."

"What will Zaalbar do?"

Mission scrunched her face up. "I never thought about that. We'll have to find him a place in the Republic," she said hopefully.

As they approached the entrance to Anchorhead, a large gate opened to let them in and the speeders rushed through. They zipped through the town back to the Ebon Hawk. In front of their ship, an Aqualish approached them and held out a data pad. "Domjabgee…You're going to have to sign for the delivery," he said brusquely in his native tongue to the group as they prepared to board.

Tired and cranky, Aerin turned about and stomped up to the merchant. "What are you talking about?" she said impatiently.

The Aqualish bulged his eyes in irritation. "I'm talking about the boxes of Gizka that you ordered. We've loaded them onto your ship, but unfortunately, one of the boxes broke and they got loose. We assume that no liability in this matter, you understand."

"I made no such order. Now, you get those things off of our ship."

"This is the Ebony Condor, isn't it?" he asked.

Aerin rolled her eyes. How could this guy be so incompetent?

"No, this is the Ebon Hawk."

The Aqualish shrugged. "Hawk…condor…same smell," he quipped and walked away.

Aerin was about to go after him when she heard Carth yell, "What is this mess?"

The young Padawan turned and ran up the boarding ramp, where a small, hairy, froglike creature leapt into her arms. As she caught it, it made a cooing noise and licked her on the nose. She was about to scream, but she took a good look at the creature and thought it was kind of cute. "What is this thing?"

Carth held one in each hand, waving them about. "They're Gizka, but where the heck did they come from?"

Before she could answer, Zaalbar stomped up to her. "Someone has been raiding our food supply. I just checked, and there are empty food wrappers everywhere."

Just as she put her hand up and opened her mouth to ask Zaalbar a question, Mission came running up, yelling, "That brother of mine broke the food replicator!"

Aerin made a deep sigh and slumped against the bulkhead. To no one in particular, she said, "Why me?"