Chapter 5
Small Sands

Kit and Lalla poured generous portions of jawa juice for their guests and encouraged them to settle in for a lengthy visit, so Vader was relieved when Theec made his farewells after drinking one glass. They walked back to the shop together, Vader studying Theec out of the corner of his eye as they strode through the dusk.

"I'm curious about something," he said at last. Theec's ears and antenna rotated toward him. "You knew how to escape. You knew the head of the underground. Yet you did not run away. Why?"

Theec glanced up briefly, then stared straight ahead. "Watto was not a terrible master. Before Watto, I was owned by one of Jabba's servants. He beat me regularly and fed me as little as possible. I was kept in the lower levels of Jabba's palace. It was hot and foul and overcrowded. This was so much better. At first it almost felt like freedom—a little bit, anyway. And then Banai asked if I would help him. I knew that others were in far more desperate situations than I was. And if it became unendurable—well, I knew how to get help." Theec's tone was bone dry, but Vader was certain the words were wry.

"I see," said Vader. "I suppose most people would call that noble. Do you think there are others who do the same?"

"It is not noble. I am doing the good in front of me. Nearly eight hundred beings are free because I stayed. If I had escaped, could I have done more?" Theec gazed earnestly at Vader. After a moment he looked away again. "Sometimes the only choice we are given is whether we will do the small good that we can see."

"And are there others who think as you do?"

"I believe some do. Kitster has told me of the woman who worked here before I came. Shmi Skywalker. She did not attempt to escape, even after her son was freed. He thinks it's because she believed she was doing good here. He heard that she continued her efforts after her husband freed her. So yes. I do think there are some."

Vader could not bear to continue the conversation. The thought that his mother had endured slavery because she believed her calling was to help others pierced his heart.

For weeks after that conversation, Theec's words rang in his ears. I am doing the good in front of me. Had he ever done the good in front of him, simply because it needed to be done? He had always wanted power, status, recognition. As a Jedi, he had supposedly served the good of the galaxy and the Republic. But it was always the good he was told to do. Or what he thought was best for the people he loved. As a Sith, he had never cared how his actions affected others. Only whether they advanced his goals. At best he had been selfish. At worst…

His heart clenched. Although he had long forsaken considering issues through the lens of good and evil, he knew his mother—and Kit and Theec too, for that matter—would have judged his actions to be pure evil. Probably the last time he had chosen to do something good simply to benefit someone else was when he had raced his pod to get Padmé the hyperdrive she needed.

He found himself setting aside certain parts as they came into the shop. Telling himself that he was certain they would be useful for something, he refused to admit what that something would be. At last one night he opened the bin and began to build a small tool. He worked on it only in the evenings, determined not to squander his work time on a personal project. It took him several weeks to complete the tool to his satisfaction.

The next time Kitster dropped in for one of his supposedly casual visits, Vader pressed the small wand into his hand.

"What's this?" Kitster asked.

"A universal scanner."

"Universal?" Kit glanced around furtively and lowered his voice. "No one has managed a universal scanner. Our best bet is to keep multiple models on hand and use trial and error until we find one that works. And sometimes we don't." He pressed his lips together tightly.

"I could be wrong. Feel free to tell me if I am." Vader resumed work on a vaporator condenser. "But I believe it will find and deactivate any manufacturer's chip. Isn't it difficult to reprogram the transmitters to work on more than one chip?"

"Yes. It took Theec several weeks to unlock his."

Vader glanced at Theec, who was on the other side of the workbench. "You succeeded? I'm impressed." He turned back to Kitster. "Well, give it a try. Or not. I don't really care." He exchanged his hydrospanner for a miniature welder and slipped his goggles over his face.

"Well—thank you," Kitster said in a neutral tone over the hissing of the welder. "I'll let you know if it works."

The girl, whose name Vader still did not know, strode into the shop about a week after he had given Kitster the scanner. She appeared regularly in the middle of every month, and her orders were relatively modest. In the main she was polite, although she seemed to think making conversation was an essential part of shopping. Considering that she probably saw no one but her uncle for most of the month, however, Vader determined that perhaps a certain loquaciousness should be excused during her rare excursions.

When she had completed her latest order, she hovered indecisively beside the counter.

"Do you need something else?" Vader inquired.

She gnawed at her lip for a moment before she said, "I have a personal project. My uncle doesn't know about it, and it's not part of our regular budget. I'll have to pay for it with some money I've saved up. I don't know if I'll have enough, and I hate to waste your time…" She stopped.

When she did not resume, Vader prompted her. "What project?"

"I have an astromech. I discovered recently that he has booster jets, but they don't work anymore. I want to fix them."

"What parts do you need?"

"I don't know exactly. Definitely two fuel cells. And the ignition coils are corroded. I tried to clean them off, but I couldn't get it all. Do I need a different solvent? Or will he need new coils?"

"Hmmm. Probably new coils. You don't really want to mess around when you're dealing with flammable materials." Vader gave her a stern look. "I don't need to remind you to be careful working with these jets, do I? Observe all the proper precautions, and use safety equipment."

"I know," she said earnestly. "I don't want to be burned. It's only—I think he would really like to have them back again, and maybe he could help with some of the repairs to the solar arrays if he could get in the air."

Vader almost smiled at her enthusiasm. "I understand. Let's get you the parts. How much money do you have?"

Her mouth twisted with embarrassment. "Only a half trugut. My uncle can't give me much of an allowance. It costs so much just to live."

"That's all right. Let's say—four wupiupi for the lot."

"But that's a lot less than they're worth. The fuel canisters alone should be five wupiupi."

Vader looked at her severely over the rim of his glasses. "Young lady, you are violating the rules of haggling. After I quote you a price, you are not supposed to tell me all the reasons I should be asking more. Do you want these parts or not?"

"Yes, I want them. But I don't want to take advantage of you."

He pulled his glasses off. "The day a child like you can pull the bantha wool over my eyes is the day Jabba the Hutt hands out alms in Mos Eisley market."

The girl laughed. "But I'm not a child."

Vader raised his hairless brows. "Pardon me. From my vantage point you seem very young. But I did not mean to offend you. Take the parts and let me know if you succeed in repairing your droid."

Her smile was a little abashed. "Well, thank you. My uncle wants us to pay the fair rate. He says life is hard enough for folks here without us trying to cheat them of what they're owed. You've been very generous."

"Generous has nothing to do with it. How many astromechs do you think come into this shop?"

She laughed once more and wished him farewell. His spirits felt unaccountably light after their exchange.

Not quite a week later, Kitster wandered into the shop again. He was making a herculean effort not to bounce in excitement. As soon as the two customers Vader was serving were gone, Kit grasped his hand. "It works. I don't know how you did it. Any manufacturer—no matter how old—it works. This changes—oh, everything. We don't have to carry half a dozen scanners with us. And it doesn't take long to locate the chips. I'm—I'm—I don't know what to say. Ani would have been so happy..."

"Ani? Your friend?" Vader did his best to keep his tone flat.

"Yes. He wanted to build a scanner like this, but he couldn't get it to work."

"You said he was merely a child? I doubt any child could design something this complex."

"Oh, I don't know. Ani was quite gifted with mechanical things. He would have been so excited to see this...Thank you. I just can't express…" Kitster drifted off into incoherence.

"I'm pleased it works. It was—a challenge. I wanted to see if it could be done."

"You succeeded. It's a lot to ask but—could you make any more? I realize it's probably time-consuming. And expensive. I would pay you for them."

Vader said, "I can teach Theec how. He can make them. If I have time I may make a few more as well. But I make no promises."

Kit beamed. "That's wonderful. I'll let you get back to work now, but—thank you so much!"

Kitster's forged permits came in handy three days later. This was the first inspection since Vader had purchased the shop. As soon as the inspection team turned onto the street, Theec pulled out the datapad with the permits. They were hosting two "employees" that week, another Rodian and a human. Theec adjusted the paperwork so that it properly reflected the number of employees in the shop.

When the team arrived—a pair of noncoms from the local garrison—Vader was absorbed in a repair, while Theec worked on the books. The two escaping slaves were conducting a superfluous inventory in the courtyard. The sergeant, a portly, slovenly fellow, demanded their permits. He studied the paperwork, then passed a dismissive glance over Vader, his eyes lingering on the scars before flicking away in distaste. The self-important little man made a show of checking behind the counter and under Vader's work bench. He insisted on viewing Vader's living quarters and demanded to know what the scanner was.

Vader drawled in Huttese, "A device for locating and deactivating the control chips in slaves."

"None of that alien garbage, trash. Speak up in Standard like a proper human, or I'll haul you in to the garrison." His lip curled in distaste as he surveyed Vader's scars again.

"I said, it is an innovative, cutting-edge, dual-function technology designed for the localization of and communication with single-wave-frequency transmission devices employed by local businesses to track essential commercial assets," Vader repeated in Standard with his most uneducated, Outer Rim accent.

Behind the soldiers' backs, Theec lifted his head in surprised delight, choking back a gleeful guffaw.

As Vader expected, the sergeant was so caught up in his own importance that he did not bother parsing out the jargon in the description. Vader had had to review enough reports filled with overblown verbosity to know how the game was played. He distracted himself from his annoyance by picturing the little gamecock's ignominious and brief career should he ever have found himself serving aboard any vessel Vader had commanded.

After half an hour of thoroughly useless inquiries and demands, the pair left, having disarranged the shop and confiscated one of the scanners. Vader had bent his policy on using the Force and had disconnected a wire deep within it before they departed. Unless the inspector was a mechanical genius, it was highly unlikely he would discover the sabotage.