Tatooine:
Bastila
We dropped out of hyperspace, and plunged toward the actinic yellow ball of Tatooine. A survey ship that had discovered it had recently sold the planet to the Czerka Corporation less than two decades earlier. It is best know for the blowing sand, which is the only constant. Millennia ago, there had been a great cataclysm, and the surface had been scorched. The wind had spent those millennia wearing away the once glassy surface to an almost uniform sandy structure. There were few oases, and these shown in brilliant green specks on an otherwise bland yellow surface.
But there is still life. Life that would surprise anyone who saw only those blowing wastes. There were two intelligent species that called it home, the Jawa, and the ubiquitous Tusken Raiders, better known to the few that visited as the Sand People. It is home to the Bantha, which has become a staple commodity, being transported throughout the galaxy as beasts of burden. The dewback, an enormous lizard used on the planet by the settlers as riding animals also were native. The Wraid Dragon and Krayt dragons, two of the largest predators known to the Republic, and a host of lesser animals.
"We'll be landing in about an hour. Let everyone know." Carth instructed.
I went aft. Danika sat at the table with Sasha, both nibbling on some cake that Zaalbar had made. I noticed how the younger girl mimicked Danika's every reaction to the confection.
"Well we had another vision." Danika said. She hadn't looked at me.
"Yes. Surprising really, Tatooine is only know for blowing sand and inhospitable natives."
"Perhaps it wasn't always a wasteland." She opined. "After all, it has been over 30,000 years since the map was emplaced."
"We would assume so, yes." I agreed cautiously. "However if the Star map were on the surface, it might have been worn to almost uselessness by now."
"Or it's in a cave somewhere as we saw it."
"I agree. However if it is in a cave, that presents us with other problems. The animals of the planet would use such caves as lairs. Not to mention the Sand People could have done the same. No doubt we shall discover this when we find it."
She nodded. "Bastila?"
"Yes?"
"You're thinking of your mother." I damned that link yet again.
"Yes. It was strange to hear from her after so long. It has been quite distracting. I can't help wondering what she wants with me after all this time."
"Yes." She took a forkful of her own cake, and stuffed it into Sasha's mouth. The girl made a noise of protest, but grinned as she chewed. "Why did the council send you along on this mission?"
I considered. "They felt you needed a cooler head along, and since I have this link to you, I was the obvious choice. Besides the events on Taris and the bond that formed between us really left them no choice. When the Force directs, even the Masters of the order must bow to it."
"I just thought it was strange that none of the masters could be free to go with us."
"I must admit that I have wondered the same thing. I thought perhaps this is more than simply a mission to stop Malak. I thought perhaps a test of my own abilities under trying circumstances."
"I know something else is going on here. I almost feel like Carth. Sure that someone is out to get me."
"Resist those thoughts. I actually thought for a moment that this was a test to see if I am worthy of becoming a master." She looked at me, and I a barked laugh at her look. "Silly me, I suppose. I think that the reason they gave was the truth. They couldn't spare a master if his presence were to draw attention to our mission. No, my dear Padawan, they picked the most palatable of the alternatives."
"I suppose you're right."
"Well get your war council hat on, we will be arriving in less than an hour."
Anchorhead
Danika
I left Sasha to complete the destruction of the cake, and went to the med station. Juhani had taken it as her own quarters, and was seated, meditating. She opened her eyes after a time.
"May I help you?" She asked.
"I wanted to make sure you were all right."
"I thank you for your concern, but I am still shaken by how close I came to destroying myself." She looked down. "I was reliving my anger, Quarta's injury at my hands, and my fall. I can see within me that the fury I had felt is still there, bottled up inside me. Close to me as a predator gets when it is about to leap. I will never be free of it."
"I think you will in time. That is all you really need right now."
"It is kind of you to say so. I think that is why the Council sent me along with you. You are like a breath of fresh air in a fetid den. It helps at night when my beast rises."
"Juhani, I will watch over you as best I can. I will warn you and lend my strength to you in any way to help you resist this."
"I thank you for those words, and your acceptance. I will strive to remain worthy of your trust and company."
I brought her with me, and we settled down around the table. Only Carth was busy, but he knew what he would be doing.
"All right, when we land, I will take Canderous and Bastila with me. Mission will be aboard and you Zaalbar will make sure of our supplies. Mission, I promise we will stop at the Czerka offices to find out about your brother. After we return we will discuss further options. Agreed?" Mission didn't look happy, and I understood that. But Anchorhead is a rough town. The documentation we scanned from the planet had mentioned that the town had the highest incident of violent crime in the sector and suggested that everyone go armed. Having Canderous with us would actually convince people not to bother us.
Ebon Hawk settled down, and we disembarked. A harried looking customs official came up to us, holding a datapad.
"Welcome to Anchorhead. Czerka Corporation stands ready to be of service as soon as we get past the formalities. This ship reads as the Ebon Hawk. But the registry number is new. Is there a reason for that?"
"I purchased it from Davik Kang." I replied. "The registry is now in my name."
"Ah, yes. Danika Wordweaver, right?" I nodded. He made a tick mark on his pad. "Well since you are new, I have to charge you the entire fee of 100 credits. Is that all right?"
I nodded, hiding my wince. That was twice what the average core system charged.
The customs man leaned toward me to whisper. "Just between you and me, the company had to jack the rates up because this isn't a paying world if you know what I mean. Poor metal quality, the lack of hunters-"
"Hunters?" I asked.
"Yes. When they started having problems with the ore, Czerka noticed that there are a lot of really big life forms on this planet. They billed it as the best hunting in the galaxy!"
"I'm from Deralia." I commented.
"You see the problem they ran into. There are half a dozen animals here worth hunting, but compared to your home world this is really tame."
"You mentioned the metal problem?"
"Well." He looked around. "If you scan the planet from orbit, you'll find concentrations of just about everything. A lot of it is what's left of shipwrecks, some of them tens of thousands of years old. Czerka looked at that, and figured they'd struck it rich. But then they arrived and found out that all of those wrecks were gutted. The Sand People and the Jawa have stripped out anything usable. It makes me cry to think a 30,000-year-old baffle plate off an engine makes a grill the Jawa cook on!" He shook his head. "But the hulls were still electro bonded and the locals couldn't break that. Do you know what processed durasteel is worth? Enough to buy your ship ten times over in kiloton job lots.
"The Corp shipped in sand crawlers, specially designed, mind you, to collect the wreckage, and smelt it down. Seemed to be working, but then we discovered that while the hull metal appears to be durasteel in every way you can test it, it shatters like glass if you hit it with a 4 kilo sledgehammer. Not what you want between you and space even if you don't expect combat. They can't explain it. It's almost like the molecular matrix is flawed, though no one can figure out why.
"When buyers found that out we couldn't sell it even at scrap prices. They decided to try the 'hunter's paradise" gambit but that hasn't worked either. I can see us dumping the planet as a dead loss in a few years."
"Has a woman named Helena Shan been through?" Bastila asked.
"Three weeks ago.
Bastila sighed. "Where did you see her?"
"She walked into the Anchorhead Cantina a week ago as if she owned the place, and has been there ever since."
"So she is still there?" I asked.
"Unless someone killed her. She hasn't moved except to sleep, and she doesn't do a lot of that unfortunately. There have been complaints." He waved to us, and went on his way.
Bastila stood there, eyes closed. Her calm center was fraying even as I watched. "I think we had best find her quickly. She has no patience when it comes to waiting."
We checked the local visitor's map, and located the Cantina, which was by the town gates. We started that way, Bastila storming in the lead. We came around a corner, and I grabbed her, pulling her back.
A Dark Jedi stepped from a shadow, followed by two more. "Lord Malak wants a word with you, Bastila. After we've taken your friends down, we can discuss it." He reached out, and Bastila fell, writhing as the Dark Jedi tormented her. The Jedi turned. I could see his eyes widen at the sight of me. "It's not possible!"
The others looked at each other, then with a scream, they charged. I caught the first as he passed, leaping over his blade, and cutting from above, splitting his head as I landed. The second was busy deflecting bolts from Canderous' rifle. Then he flinched back as Canderous aimed at the ground, blowing melted sand into his face. I charged the one that was pinning Bastila down, and he went down in a welter of blood. I turned, the last dark Jedi charging me, then suddenly his chest opened up like a flower as Canderous put a bolt worthy of a vehicle through it. He looked at me.
"Only a fool turns his back on a living Mandalorian warrior." He said laconically.
I noticed that except for those that had ducked out of the line of fire, no one was paying us the least attention. Once the shooting stopped people began pushing through on their own business. I checked the bodies, finding four light sabers, one of them a double-headed design. The hand that had wielded it was the same size as mine, and I flipped it to check the balance. I would work on it.
A Jawa came toward where the fight had occurred, struggling with a bag almost as large as himself. "Could you use some help?" I asked.
The hooded face came up looking at me. "Yours do not care about ours. Do you miss those the sand ghosts have taken from the tribe of Iziz?"
"Those the sand ghosts have taken?" I knelt on one knee to look him in the eye. "Are some of your people missing?"
"Is this interest?" The tone suggested only a slight amount of sarcasm. "Not from your kind is this usual, though Iziz thinks better of your kind than most. If in truth this is interest speak to him. If it is not, then leave us in our misery." He struggled to lift the bag. "Tired of giant-speak. Might as well slave for the ghosts as talk with your kind."
I reached down, plucking the sack from his hand. "First you will tell me where this goes, and I will walk with you a short time."
He harrumphed, then led toward the gate. A moisture farmer's lifter was there, and he stopped me before the farmer could see us. He struggled the bag over, dodging a cuffing hand, and ran back the way he had come.
Iziz. I would have to remember that name.
Bastila was focused, and I could feel her anxiety through the bond.
The Cantina was a small structure dug into the sand to provide some cooling from the scorching suns. She paused, hand against the door as if she could reach through it. "We won't get this over with standing out here." I whispered.
"I know that." She hissed. She was seething inside, and I reached out, letting a calming thought flow over her. She spun, glaring. "Get out of my mind!"
I eased off, and she spun back, slamming the button to open it. It was dark in comparison to the outside, a few people standing at the bar, or at tables. However there was a wide gap around one table. The woman there looked worn and ill used by life. I could feel a darkness. Not evil, but pain, grief, and, soon in her mind, death. Bastila froze, and I moved past her. The way her mind was roiling, we would have stood there until the Galaxy died of old age.
"Helena Shan?" I asked. She looked up, squinting.
"Yes. I'm sorry, do I know you?"
Bastila stepped forward finally. "I am here, mother." Then her voice grew sharp. "Or don't you recognize me?"
Helena looked at her. I could see her wanting to say so much, reacting more to the tone of voice than what she saw. "How would I know what you looked like? All I have is pictures of you as a child. Do you know how long I have been looking for you?" The tone was sharper than Bastila's.
"You knew as well as I that communications would be impossible once I joined the order." She stiffened. "So what is this all about, and where is father?"
Helena seemed to shrink. "Then you haven't heard. I might have known."
"Well? Are you going to answer my question or not? Spit it out!"
"You're father... He's dead, Bastila." She clutched her drink. She signaled, and the bartender brought another. "He died last month."
"Last month." Bastila's tone was brittle. I felt something die inside her, and its death stoked the furnace of her anger. "What happened? What did you talk him into this time?"
Helena was awash in pain, and like Bastila struck out from it. "My, what a nice family reunion." She looked at me. "Do you treat your mother this way?"
"My mother died when I was young." I replied.
"Well I will join her soon enough, we can compare notes on our daughters!"
"Enough, mother. I was told you were sick, was that sheer melodrama or what?"
"Such sweet words you have for me." She sighed, sipping her drink and making a face. "I had best tell you everything before we start arguing again."
"Start with how you got father killed."
"If I had known that becoming a Jedi would have made you even more spiteful, I would have never suggested it. Do you want to hear that I talked him into coming here? That way you can blame me for his death. You never understood that these expeditions were what he enjoyed the most. That is why you always ended up with me! I was always the blame for all of your problems with him, what else is new?"
She sipped again. I closed my eyes, trying to smell what she was drinking. It was hard, because a bar has so many smells. I listened as I started removing different odors. A fairly useful talent when you learn to do it instinctively. Picture knowing that something has been added to the atmosphere immediately!
"So yes, you're absolutely right as always. I brought your father here last month to try to collect some Krayt Dragon pearls. He went with an expedition that was wiped out in the Dune Sea."
"He might have survived! He was an experienced hunter-"
"I wish it were so. But the only survivor was a bearer. A krayt dragon attacked as they were setting up camp. He saw the rest of the team die." She looked at Bastila helplessly. "Considering how well we get along, do you think I would have tried to contact you myself otherwise?"
"So what do you want from me? Credits? A shoulder to cry on?"
"Damn you, no! I know something about the training you have undertaken. I was hoping you could get your father's holocron and bring it to me."
"Why? So you can sell it? Or write a book based on his misguided life-"
"Shut up!" Helen stood as I identified what she had been drinking. Kolto-laced wine. "Is it so impossible that perhaps I want something to remember my husband by?" She glared at Bastila, then settled back, looking away. "You needn't have bothered to come, then."
Mother we are on an important mission for the Jedi Council-"
"You always were. We have been trying to contact you for three years now, but you were always too busy!" She sipped the drink. "Like always."
"Bastila." I said. "Ask about her sickness."
"Why?" She glared at me. "It has nothing to do with what she wants! It's just a ploy knowing her." She glared at her mother again. "Well, mother? Are you going to admit it?"
Helena glared back at her. "Believe what you want. All I ask is that you retrieve Brean's holocron. Once I have that you are rid of me."
"Just what I would have expected from you." Bastila turned. "If we happen to pass by where he died, I will see about finding it. Once that is done I have no other reason to even speak with you again." She turned and stalked away. I looked at Helena, seeing the pain she had been unwilling to show Bastila lest it be taken as weakness. I touched her hand, and followed.
Outside, Bastila was standing, staring at the sand at her feet.
"Bastila-"
"Don't even speak to me!" She spun. "The only thing she and I had in common was father, and now that he's dead, I want nothing to do with her!"
"Why didn't you ask her about her sickness?" I asked.
"I can't be objective about that woman. I doubt she is sick. She was always lying about things to get her own way. My father leaped through hoops thanks to her, and with him gone..." She turned away. "With him gone now she thinks I will do the same."
"You sound so, bitter."
"I worked for years to remove that anger. I thought I had. But just seeing her, it's like I'm five again." She shook her head. "We have things to do."
We walked over to the city gate, but a Czerka guard stopped us. We couldn't leave without a hunter's permit, and we had to return to the Czerka Corporation office to get it.
I wasn't feeling to comfortable with Bastila right then. She had closed down the bond so tightly that I felt stifled. I knew distance wouldn't help, but I was sure that not being close enough to rip each other apart might help. I went back to the ship, left Canderous and Bastila there, and went back out with Mission in tow.
Tatooine
Mission
I was looking forward to seeing Griff again, but at the same time, I dreaded it. When Danika came to get me I threw on my armor picked up my weapons, and was after her at a jog.
She went to the Czerka Corp office, and we went in.
The local rep was trying to talk to a Duros. Or rather, was listening as he screamed at her. "You haven't heard the end of this you puppet! I am not going to let the massacre of an entire village of Sand people occur because you won't negotiate!"
"What is going on here?" Danika asked softly. The Duros spun, glaring at her. "I have had enough of this! I don't think she wants to listen, and I know the Corporation doesn't give a damn! No accountability! That's the problem with owning everything on a planet!" He grumbled a few curses I made sure to remember.
The rep watched him go, then turned a brilliant smile on us. I'm just glad she wasn't selling used land speeders. "Welcome to the offices of Czerka Corporation, Tatooine. I trust I can help you?" She grimaced. "If it is about employment as a miner, I am afraid our crews are full at the moment. We have also suspended sale of Hunter's licenses. We have too many people out there rather than using our services as it is."
"Griff!" I blurted.
Danika looked at me, but didn't complain. "We are looking for one of your employees. Griff Vao."
"Griff..." The rep seemed to be confused, then looked at me. Her eyes widened. "Of course. I remember him. Not fondly. Not a good worker. Always complaining, falsifying work records, faking injuries.
"We had started an investigation in the belief that he was stealing corporate property. We would have fired him if the Sand People hadn't gotten to him first."
"What?" She flinched back at my shout.
"He went missing during a Sand People raid about a month ago. Our rescue team reported that some of the workers had been taken prisoner, but it wasn't cost effective to try to attack the village. After all, our miners all sign waivers that absolve us of liability in these cases."
"So your workers are all expendable." Danika said as she caught my arm. I didn't know if pulling hair was as painful as pulling Lekku, but I was willing to find out.
"Good heavens, no! Czerka Corporation considers every one of our employees as a valuable asset. That is why we have been paying bounties for the Sand People! As for this young man, his body was not found, so he is either a prisoner, or beyond the boundary of our corporate lands."
"Our business is out there." Danika said. "I require permission to leave the town."
"Part of the reason we suspended selling licenses was because of the Sand People of the closest village." She looked at Danika speculatively. "However I could make an exception if you could perform a service for the Corporation."
"What manner of service?"
"As I said, the raiders of the Truuata village to the southwest have been a constant menace. The chieftain has launched attack after attack, and nothing we have done has slowed them. They attack our miners, destroy our sand crawlers, it has become unacceptable."
"And what would you have me do?"
"I thought it was obvious. I will give you a license, and a bounty for every gaffi stick you collect. If you should collect the Chieftain's stick, I will pay an extra bonus."
"Why the gaffi sticks?" Danika asked, then motioned sarcastically. "Isn't a bounty usually paid for the heads instead?"
She didn't seem to get the sarcasm. "And what do you think I want dumped on my desk?" The woman replied. "Besides, they are ceremonial weapons, and are unique to both the tribe and the warrior."
Danika nodded. "Very well."
"Wait." The woman moved to her desk, brought up something on her main computer, then transferred it to a datapad. "This is an enforceable contract. Czerka Corporation considers this a very important problem, and will litigate as necessary if you violate it."
Danika looked at the contract, scrolling through it with meticulous care. Then she thumb printed it.
"Very well. Here is your license and your copy of the contract. The village is to the southwest. Now is there anything else?"
"No." Danika led me outside, then hugged me. "If he's alive, we will find him, Mission."
"I know. But she burned my jets! 'After all, our miners all sign waivers that absolve us of liability'!" I wanted to rip out that black hair. "And you've promised to kill them!'
"No, I did not. The wording of the contract was very vague. I am to 'deal with the problem expeditiously'. Is there anything there that suggests I am to kill anyone?"
"No." I said slowly.
"But you will." We turned. The Duros that had been arguing with the rep was standing there. "You're kind don't think of any other way.'
"If you intend to insult us, could we at least have your name?" Danika asked.
"Dayso Cooh. A registered correspondent for the Conservation Monthly. There is always a way to find a peaceful solution. They're just lazy." He jerked a thumb toward the office. "The Sand People are intelligent. Anyone that has survived an attack speaks of how well planned they are. There must be a way to communicate with them. But does Czerka care?" He shook his head angrily. "Ten hunters have already accepted this little commission of Representative Bakri. Some of their heads have been left outside the gates. Since you can't leave without corporate approval, she can make this a condition when she issues a license."
"Who started the attacks?"
"Honestly? The Sand People did." Dayso admitted. "But look at it as if that was your home." He waved toward the sand. "Czerka sets up here, where every other settlement has failed, brings in massive sand crawlers, and begins ripping up their home. Does the Corporation ask? Of course not! They own the planet! Just ask the Republic! It was an invasion with no mention of why, no offer to buy rights, no nothing! What would you have them do?
"I don't think they should have begun killing immediately, but I am always hopeful that someone will at least try to talk."
"There haven't been attempts to talk before?" Danika was astonished.
Dayso looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes there have." He admitted. "But they refuse to learn any of our languages, and most of the translation droids lock up when they try to translate. There was even some Jedi here a few years ago, but even their attempt ended in blood.
"I'm not saying it would be easy! But with a proper translator droid it would at least be possible."
"Yes, I could see what would be a problem." She sighed. "Without such a droid, I may end up spilling blood too."
"But there might be a way." Dayso said. "The Ithorian Yuka Laka has a droid he claims speaks the local Sand People dialect. Of course he'd say rust was pure gold if it meant a sale."
"With the droid then-"
"Of course common Sand People don't negotiate. Only the Chieftain has the authority. You'd have to get to their encampment. That would also be a problem."
"Must I pull the problems out of you as if they were teeth?" Danika asked.
"Sorry. You would be attacked immediately dressed in anything other than their own style of clothing. Perhaps you could take them off the bodies of some Sand People. A droid could travel without that of course. They've captured quite a few, and use them to maintain their defenses."
"Defenses?" Danika waved toward the door. "They seem to think the Sand People have trouble feeding themselves without help."
"Well I have recordings of that encampment." Dayso looked around. "Don't tell her, but they have mines scattered between them and the Dune Sea along the entry into their valley. Turrets they've stolen off sand crawlers that their droids have rigged up to defend the last vale. It isn't an easy trip."
"I will try to find a peaceful option Danika said. "This droid shop is where?"
He directed us, and we walked through the streets. The shop like every permanent structure was buried in the sand. Danika stepped in, and stopped.
"A customer perhaps?" Yuka Laka set down his tools, and came toward us. "If there is anything you need that my shop can supply, don't hesitate to ask. I have a new droid ready now for sale. A translator droid that might have been used for security since it also has armor and weapons mounts. Its designation is HK47." He waved toward the side.
There was a droid in the corner like none I have ever seen. It was bipedal, like a protocol or historical droid, but the metal finish was a flat red. The head was a boxy carapace, with a small set of visual receptors. Weapons mounts was right, it had what you would have expected on a war droid. As I looked at it, the head rotated, and it looked back at me.
"HK? What does that designation stand for?" Danika asked.
"I have no idea." Laka admitted. "But nothing is wrong with it beyond a problem dumping its memory core. The machine claims to speak several million languages including three dialects of the local Sand People and four Jawa dialects. It has a comprehensive databank of military functions, and could easily operate as a war droid." He glared at the machine. "Stupid machine doesn't know how to sell itself, though. I had some moisture farmers in yesterday, and it just stood there like a lump and ignored them." He fingered the control for the restraining bolt on his hip. The look he gave the droid was worried.
"Maybe it will talk to me." Danika said. She walked across to the droid.
The head turned to watch us, and I got the feeling of fury tightly leashed from it. The hands were twice the size of mine, and clenched slowly.
"You are HK47?"
"Pleasant rejoinder: Yes, prospective buyer." The voice was atonal, and harsh.
"Tell me about yourself."
"Personal designation: HK series model 47, unit 1, manufactured by Systech of Telos. My functions include translation, combat, and-" It paused. "Other duties that a discerning purchaser would rather not hear when Yuka Laka is within hearing. Query, will you purchase me?"
"Explain more of your functions."
"Careful Disclosure: Considering the greed of my present owner, the full range of my capabilities would only result in his raising the price until I cannot be sold." The head turned. "That would be... unacceptable."
"Hasn't he tried to find this out already?"
"Affirmation: However he soon decided that staying out of arm's reach was preferable to dealing with me. Let us just say I can handle all protocol needs, serve canapes, and if the guests get unruly, remove them cleanly."
Danika leaned forward. "Let me guess. Your designation stands for Hunter-Killer I assume?" She whispered.
"Fervent Denial: Such a unit, if autonomous as I am, would be skirting the boundary of legalities except during time of war." HK replied. The voice dropped softer. "But if that form of legality is not a problem, affirmative. I would be wasted on a moisture farmer, or some woman who needs her house cleaned. I would much rather be out of here, away from that being." The head came up, and the voice came back to full volume. "Ithorian, physical actions, strike behind eyestalk at 15th cervical vertebrae. Death is immediate." I could hear a yelp of dismay from Laka.
"I told you to stop that!" Laka was quivering as if he was going to explode.
"Warning: My primary function has been engaged." The right hand came up, and the barrel of a blaster slid out. There was a click and bleep, then the hiss of an empty chamber. "Destruction of all unauthorized life forms will commence."
Laka fumbled up the control, and there was a buzzing from HK. "It keeps doing that too. Someone almost blasted it yesterday."
"I see you have a problem with it." Dankia commented dryly.
"Yes I do." Laka looked irritated. "A good chunk of its memory core is inaccessible, and according to it, any attempt to delete it, or access it without proper codes will cause it to immediately self-destruct. There is supposed to be a Class one thermal detonator inside that glob of grease. Though if there is, it is well concealed and shielded from detection."
I flinched, looking at the room. Class One? Not even the block would survive that! "Maybe I could take a look at it?" I asked.
"If your companion damages it, I will have to charge you."
"I understand. Mission?"
I walked warily to stand beside the droid, and popped it's service access. From the thickness of the armor, I was sure it could take at least three blaster bolts to penetrate it. There were ships I had seen with less armor. I knelt to get a better look. "HK," I whispered, how much of what you told Laka is true?"
"Careful Disclosure: The thermal detonator is a lie." It whispered back. "But I am programmed to eliminate everyone in the room if any attempt is made to access my sealed programming, and that is hardwired. There is one section that should be accessible, but is not. Surmise: The restraining bolt might be blocking it."
I nodded, pretending to check the systems. The power core had enough shunts to support a defense shield against an Ion grenade and the other arm had a disruptor mount, also drained. "Where did you get this model?" I asked the proprietor
"A Czerka warehouse off world. The quartermaster there owed someone here a debt, and sent this. He said they'd never miss it. But I know it's not Czerka manufacture."
I nodded. "This is your combat circuitry?" I whispered, touching a line.
"Affirmative." I whistled. This thing could carry any weapon a man might, and use any of them without further modification. Someone had taken the concept of a war droid past where most would even think of allow it. I closed the panel. "Done."
"Understood."
I went back over to Danika and whispered. "I don't know who made it, but I can think of only one real use. I think it's an assassin."
"Well we won't hold that against it." Danika said. She began talking with Laka, and finally got him to settle for 2500 credits. The Ithorian looked relieved to get the behemoth out of his shop. He deactivated the restraining bolt, then rearmed HK's weapons.
"HK, I have purchased you."
"Exclamation: My joy knows no bounds, master." The head turned to lock on Laka. "Shall I show it by eliminating someone?"
"No. Just come with me."
"Understood." The voice sounded a bit peeved.
Outside, the suns were past noon. Danika stopped, then flinched as a small group of Jawa came over.
I don't understand Jawa, but HK told me what was said later.
"You are going into the desert to deal with the giant ones, yes?" One of them asked.
"I will be going that way, yes." Danika replied fluently.
"Then our chieftain would ask a boon of you." The Jawa motioned toward another standing a short distance from the gates. We walked over, and he turned to face us. Most people seem to think of Jawa as merely scavengers with little or no morals. I don't know if that is true, but this one had a curious dignity.
"I am Iziz, leader of the small tribe that resides here in this settlement. You are by your actions, a leader of the same sort." He said. "One of my people spoke of you. That you asked concerning some on mine that have been taken. That you helped him with a burden unasked. You are going to confront the giants of the sand?"
"Do you mean the Sand People?"
"Such is what you call them. Even in their own language, that is a simplistic designation. The desert ghosts have taken some of my people, and I would ask you to return them."
"Taken?"
"Your kind allows us to live here, and trust us not. But you do not enslave or brutalize us. They however have no such restraint. Many of mine have been taken, and they are forced to work for the giants. Horned giants take us. If choose we must, we would prefer your way."
"So you want me to rescue them."
"Yes," He hummed a moment. "Speaking in your languages is difficult for us. I believe in your society it is right to give something in return for such an act? We have much knowledge of the sands of our world. If there is anything we could supply, you have but to ask."
Danika knelt, and drew a sketch of the Star Map we found on Dantooine. "Have you seen something like this?"
"Yes. It is in the Eastern Dune Sea. Much distance away. Landspeeder is needed. The cave is also home to a great dragon."
"Where?"
"Any more I will not tell until you have saved my people."
"Agreed." Danika stood. "I am returning to our ship. I have to find Sand People clothes before I can enter their village."
Iziz turned, and spoke rapidly to another of his people. "We can supply. We find things, and have since those that left us here. Many is the time that your kind, those that dwell in the sky come here, all they leave we find. That we can we take to use, or to sell. So it has been since the beginning."
"Deliver the clothes to the Ebon Hawk." She instructed.
"It will be done."
Tatooine
Danika
We had a lively discussion when we returned to Ebon Hawk. Canderous wanted to go along. I think he liked the odds. Carth was still growling about everything, and didn't even want to talk to me. Bastila would have volunteered, but I still felt too much through the link to trust myself with her.
Canderous came up with the easiest way to get us there. He left the ship, and came back an hour before sunset with three grav-chutes. Used by troops being deployed from a shuttle, they allowed you to drop into an area inaccessible on the ground. We pored over the maps of the region, and I marked a spot. It was about a kilometer from the village over rough terrain. It had the advantage of having an area large enough to land the Ebon Hawk if we had to.
I chose to take a minimal team. Mission wanted to go, and the idea of jumping out of the ship was terrifying, but she wanted to go anyway. HK had to go, and I went because I was in charge.
Hk's memory had not returned. He had initially believed that the restraining bolt had been blocking it but admitted that all functions had not been returned.
But from what it could tell me of that additional function, Mission had been right. HK had been designed as an assassin. The fact that such a droid was illegal was secondary. It had a tendency to call living beings 'meatbags' for some reason, but I didn't have the time to find out why.
As Carth lifted off, I worked on the double lightsaber, using a couple of the modulating crystals we had picked up on Yavin. I checked the rest of my gear with care. I didn't take a blaster, but I did take half a dozen grenades just in case. When Carth signaled, we were ready.
I hadn't bothered to mention to Mission that I didn't like grav-chutes either. They had a distressing tendency to fail, and when set for HALO operations, high altitude, low opening as they had to be for this mission, were terrifying in their own right. We would be jumping at three kilometers height, and they would activate at 100 meters. That left you 2900 meters to contemplate your own chances that it would fail, and less than a second to realize that it had before you hit the ground.
No help for it. I stood beside the ramp as it dropped, holding Mission's hand. "Ready?"
"No." She admitted. "But let's go."
I nodded, and we ran down the ramp, launching ourselves into space. I had carried a full sensor pack, and as we fell, I directed our flight, I didn't need to look behind me, because HK had been briefed, and his systems were actually better than the headset I wore. Mission using just low light goggles stayed even with me, watching me instead of the darkness below us. I saw some fires, and angled toward them. I wanted to land as close as possible, but not so close that they would think we were an assault force.
I felt the chute grab, and suddenly I was falling at a brisk walking pace instead of a plummet. I hit the ground, and rolled instinctively. Mission had not been watching me in those last seconds, and her fall was what we called a 'beginner's grav-chute landing fall' or in order of impact, 'toes, knees, nose'. Falling flat with a painful stop. She cursed under her breath as she stood.
We dressed in the Sand People's gear Iziz had delivered, and I got my bearings. A dark shape moved, and HK was at our side.
"The village is there." I pointed.
"Affirmation: There are an estimated 200 of them including children." It reported.
We started off slowly, watching for guards. From what I had heard, there had been no attempts to drop strike forces on them as yet, but night attacks had been common.
Mission caught my arm, shaking her head. "Plasma mine right in front of you." She whispered. She knelt, sliding forward like an inchworm, then began the delicate process of disarming the mine. As we went, I mentally kept track of the placement.
"They didn't place the field correctly." I murmured as she disarmed the ninth mine of the evening.
"You're complaining?" She hissed. The mine slipped from the ground, and she slid it into her pack.
"No. I just expect some competency from my enemies."
We came upon a sentry, and I knocked him out. I didn't want to kill anyone unnecessarily.
The tents were leather stretched over forms made of bones and branches, then rubbed in Bantha fat to make them water tight and resilient. I walked through the village, looking for a larger tent, which would hold the leader. I found the tent but he was not there. I saw a larger fire, and a dozen or more of Sand People were gathered around it.
I motioned for HK to walk ahead, and we followed in his wake. When we reached the fire, I stepped forward, and slowly pulled off the wrappings on my face. They froze, and I could see hands reaching for weapons. I drew my lightsaber. "HK, tell them we are here to talk, not to fight." I knelt, setting it on the ground.
The sound that issued from the droid was a series of grunts and wails. They fondled their weapons, and one or two looked to a huge specimen. He replied.
"Translation: He says you defame his people. Remove the clothing so that if die you must, they will not be damaged."
I motioned, and both Mission and I stripped them off. She left her weapons on the ground as I instructed her.
"You are brave, but stupid." HK translated. "Many of your kind have come, defaming our planet, using machines rather than walking or riding animals. Since you come to talk, we will allow your talk for a time."
"Great chief, your skills are well known, and those who control the town fear you. They send those paid to kill you, they collect Gaffi to prove they have done so. I could have done this as they demanded, but life is precious to me, and war, while sometimes necessary, is not always the only way. I come to you bearing words of life in one hand and death in the other. Which shall be spoken this night between us is up to you."
He nodded. "Let me hear your words of life."
"You attack the people of the settlement. I do not know what has caused your hatred of them, but you are known to be a brave, cunning and fierce warrior, chief of the Truuata. They would not fear you else. I ask if there is a way to end this fighting."
"The ones in the town bring this. They defame our world, ripping the sand from it as if that is what they eat. Taking as their own the relics of those we have defeated in past generations. Our people would move from here to the next oasis to avoid these machines and their riders, but not even we can merely walk into the sands. Such is death even for us. Until there is a way to move, we must fight. They have left us no other option."
"Your words of death are strong. But what does your people need to move in safety? What must you have to use words of life with me rather than words of death?"
He bent, talking with a couple of his advisors. "Water is what we need. Water enough to reach the next oasis at least. That is what would allow us to withdraw."
"Do you know of what are called vaporators?" I asked.
"This word is strange. What is this thing you speak of."
"We need water as well, more than your people need, for we were not born to such a wasteland. The small farms which grow plants in caves use a device called a vaporator to draw the water in the air and make it liquid again to save and use."
"An abomination."
"Such might be true, great chief." I motioned toward the blaster rifle on of them carried. "But are not the weapons of those you fight also abominations?"
"Necessary ones." He growled in return. "Without them we must come as close as an honorable foe to fight them. And the cowards can kill us from the next dune. None who have fought us even to those that left us here in the beginning were as fierce as we. So we have, adapted in some things."
"But could you accept an abomination you control, that will supply water if it will deliver your people to the oasis safely?"
He conferred with his people again. "We have listened to your words of life. They are strong. And what have you to say with words of death?"
"Death awaits us all. Some from nature," my arm swept the desert beyond the fires. "We all carry death as well. In the Gaffi you carry, in your rifles, in the blasters both my friend and some of yours carry." I opened the clothes I had worn, and set out the grenades I had brought. "In the grenades I carry, and my blade." I lifted it, triggering it so they could see it. Then they stiffened as Mission opened her pack and laid the mines we had disarmed in a line. "In the metal death boxes you have sown to trap your enemies."
I waved toward them. "But you do not understand their use. If you wish, I can discover if one of your droids was programmed to place them in a proper manner, where they have the best effect in stopping your enemies, yet are easily gathered later." I looked into the mask the Chieftain wore. "Death will collect all of us sooner or late. This we both know. I only try to keep death away for a moment longer. For me, for those in the town, and for your people."
The chieftain stood. "I have listened to your words of death and life. They are strong in your own heart and beliefs, and resonate among us. It is good that warriors of honor meet in this time of death and life. For only those with honor can speak of such things in full truth and trust.
"It shall be life. Bring us these 'vaporators'. Show us their use. Have your droid teach ours this skill with the death boxes, and we shall see if your way is better." He looked at the mines with distaste. "They are the worst of the abominations your kind use, weapons that do not care what they kill. But your kind doesn't seem to care what dies either so they are the perfect weapon for you.
"When I am sure that you have not used your words of life to betray us, you will be allowed to return."
I picked up my weapons, motioning for Mission to do the same. "May I ask my ship to pick us up?"
He looked at the sky. "If you would leave you must walk. Your flying things are an abomination. I will tell my warriors to avoid the people of the town. But I cannot stop all attacks. There are those among your kind that do not understand the honor of death and life." He dismissed us.
We walked back the way we had come. "We didn't ask about Griff!" Mission said.
"I know, Mission. Wait a little longer." I looked around. "HK, are we being followed?"
"Affirmative: But they are not close enough to hear us."
"Are they close enough to see the ship land?"
"Affirmative."
We walked on. After another hour, HK reported that they were no longer trailing us. The ship came in, and lifted us back to town.