The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the desert, painting the endless dunes in shades of amber and gold. In perhaps an hour, maybe two, the twin suns would finally set, and they would reach their meeting point just as twilight settled over the wasteland. Three of Tatooine's moons were already visible in the darkening sky, pale crescents waiting for their turn to illuminate the night.
Cass and Anakin walked side by side through the desert, their footsteps muffled by the soft sand. Behind them, a modest repulsorlift sled carried the "merchandise" they'd appropriated from Sebulba's compound, a carefully selected assortment of podracer parts, droid components, and navigation equipment that would fetch excellent prices from the jawas. And walking alongside them, was C-3PO.
The protocol droid was not yet complete. His outer coverings, which would make him recognizable in future, were missing from most of his torso and limbs, exposing his internal mechanisms in a fascinating display of precision engineering. Exposed servos whined softly as he walked, and the occasional spark flickered from unshielded circuits.
"I do hope this expedition proves worthwhile, Master Anakin," C-3PO said in his distinctive voice, though it seemed somehow less refined than Cass remembered. "The probability of successfully negotiating with Jawas is approximately 5 to 1."
"Threepio," Anakin interrupted with fond exasperation. "You're supposed to be helping, not calculating all the ways this could go wrong."
"But Master Anakin, risk assessment is a fundamental component of protocol behavior! Surely you don't expect me to simply ignore potential complications when my programming specifically requires"
"Breathe, Threepio," Anakin said with a gentle laugh. "Just... try to be optimistic for once."
"Optimistic? Oh my. I'm not certain my behavioral matrices are equipped for such irrational thinking patterns."
Cass listened to their banter with growing amusement. The protocol droid's personality was already fully formed, even if his body wasn't. And his interaction with Anakin revealed a warmth beneath the formal language, genuine affection that would endure through decades of war and hardship.
The boy had been practically vibrating with excitement since they'd loaded the sled, his youthful enthusiasm a stark contrast to Cass's growing anxiety about the complex plan now in motion. Everything had gone smoothly so far, after rendering Sebulba unconscious through his possession, Cass had immediately abandoned the Dug's body, his spectral form drifting like smoke through the walls before settling back into Marcus's familiar flesh.
Once reunited with his own body, he'd quickly summoned Anakin, and together they'd descended upon Sebulba's quarters like locusts. The Twi'lek slaves, exactly as planned, had stood aside and allowed them to take whatever they wanted, their eyes carefully averted as the duo stripped the place of every valuable item they could find. Credits, rare pod-racing components, even the ornate decorations from Sebulba's walls, all of it had been loaded onto the sled while the Dug lay unconscious. But Cass knew from decades of storytelling that the moment things seemed to be going too well was usually when everything fell apart.
"Marcus?" Anakin's voice carried clearly in the still desert air. "Can I ask you something kind of personal?"
"Of course," Cass replied, adjusting his grip on the sled's guide rope.
The boy was quiet for several steps, his boots crunching softly in the sand as he apparently worked up the courage for whatever question was weighing on him.
"When you were telling me about all those places you've been... did you always travel alone? Or did you have, you know, family? Friends?"
The question hit closer to home than Anakin could possibly know. Here was a child who'd spent his entire life dreaming of adventure and freedom, trying to understand what that freedom might actually look like when achieved.
"Mostly alone," Cass answered honestly, drawing on Marcus Valen's memories while adding his own decades of solitary creative work. "The Republic Navy keeps you moving constantly, new assignments, new ships, new crews. You make friends, but they're temporary friends. People you share experiences with, but not... not real connections."
"That sounds lonely," Anakin said softly.
"It was," Cass admitted. "But it taught me something important, that the connections you do make, the people you choose to care about, they matter more than anything else. Quality over quantity."
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the desert stretching endlessly around them like an ocean of golden sand. In the distance, Cass could see the faint glow of lights that marked their destination, the old moisture farm ruins where the Jawas were waiting.
"Hey, Nebula," Cass said, opening his mind connection with the spaceship while feeling excited that they were very close to completing the first phase of their mission. "Are we getting any reward for completing this mission?"
Nebula's response was characteristically unhelpful. "Actually, there's a reward for completing all the missions in the future, but for completing this specific mission? I'm not sure. But there's definitely a penalty for not completing the mission."
This really surprised Cass. "What kind of penalty?"
"Don't complete the mission and experience it yourself," the ship replied with what sounded like mechanical smugness.
It really angered Cass,"You overgrown calculator. I will definitely settle the score with you later." He promised to himself, unaware of how their relationship was evolving, by remaining confused about what this advanced spaceship truly wanted from him, while Nebula wasted no time mocking him at every turn.
Their mental conversation was interrupted as they crested a low dune and saw their destination spread out before them. The old moisture farm ruins consisted of little more than a few crumbling walls and the rusted remains of atmospheric processors, but it served as a convenient meeting point that was far enough from Mos Espa to avoid unwanted attention.
And there, clustered around several sandcrawlers like metallic beetles, were the Jawas.
The Jawa encampment was a marvel of organized chaos. Three massive sandcrawlers formed a rough triangle around the ruins, their hulking forms bristling with salvage equipment and external cargo holds. Smaller vehicles, speeder bikes, modified swoops, and walking contraptions that defied easy categorization, filled the spaces between the larger vessels.
The Jawas themselves moved through this mechanical maze with practiced efficiency, their glowing yellow eyes visible beneath brown hoods as they conducted the complex social rituals that preceded any serious trading session. As Cass, Anakin, and C-3PO approached, several of the smaller figures detached themselves from the main group and scurried forward, chattering excitedly in their rapid-fire language.
"There's Wittin," Anakin said, pointing to a slightly taller Jawa whose robe was decorated with what looked like circuit board patterns. "He's the clan leader here."
The Jawa leader approached with obvious enthusiasm, his voice rising and falling in the musical tones that characterized Jawa communication.
"What's he saying?" Cass asked quietly.
C-3PO stepped forward, his exposed circuits flickering as he processed the alien language. "He's welcoming us and expressing considerable excitement about examining our merchandise. He's also inquiring whether we're truly from the Republic, as that would make these components extremely valuable for inter-clan trading purposes."
"Tell him yes, we're Republic, but this is an unofficial transaction," Cass instructed. "We're looking for discretion as much as good prices."
As C-3PO translated with fluid efficiency, Cass watched the Jawas' body language with fascination. He'd read about their complex social structures, but seeing it in action was something else entirely. The way they deferred to Wittin while simultaneously jockeying for position suggested a hierarchy based on trading acumen rather than simple dominance.
"Fascinating creatures," Nebula commented in his mind. "Their society is built entirely around the concept of mutual benefit through exchange. Very civilized, in its way."
"Unlike certain other species we could mention," Cass replied, thinking of Sebulba's casual cruelty and Watto's exploitation of slave labor.
A larger group of Jawas had gathered now, forming a rough circle around the merchandise sled. Their excited chatter filled the air as they examined the components with expert eyes, occasionally producing small scanning devices to verify authenticity and quality.
One of them, apparently Wittin's chief technical advisor, began speaking rapidly while gesturing at a particularly valuable hyperdrive motivator.
"He says these are excellent quality," C-3PO translated with growing excitement in his mechanical voice. "Much better than the usual salvage they encounter. He's inquiring whether we have access to more merchandise of this caliber."
"Tell him this is just the first shipment," Cass said. "If we can establish a good working relationship, there could be much more valuable merchandise in the future."
As negotiations continued, Cass found himself genuinely impressed by C-3PO's translation abilities. The droid wasn't just converting words, he was providing cultural context and emotional subtext that made the complex trading discussions possible. His incomplete state didn't seem to hamper his linguistic capabilities at all.
The bargaining process stretched on for nearly an hour, with offers and counteroffers flowing back and forth in the intricate dance of desert commerce. Anakin proved surprisingly skilled at reading the Jawas' intentions, his Force sensitivity allowing him to sense their genuine enthusiasm for the merchandise. The Jawas were shrewd negotiators, but they were also fair dealers who understood the value of long-term relationships over short-term profits.
Finally, Wittin spoke at length while gesturing toward one of the sandcrawlers, his words accompanied by elaborate hand movements that seemed to indicate specific quantities and qualities.
"We have reached an agreement," C-3PO announced with obvious satisfaction. "They're offering payment in a combination of credits and rare components, including fifteen functional protocol and astromech droids, three hyperdrive units of various classes, and an assortment of Old Republic-era technology they discovered in a deep desert excavation. The clan leader indicates this represents approximately twice the value of our merchandise, but he desires to establish goodwill for future trading relationships."
"Fifteen droids?" Cass repeated, genuinely surprised by the generosity of the offer.
"Plus the hyperdrives and various other valuable components," C-3PO confirmed. "I must say, this is an exceptionally favorable arrangement. The probability of receiving such generous terms was quite low, statistically speaking."
"Excellent," Cass said, meaning it. Having the Jawas as allies could prove invaluable for their longer-term plans. "Tell Wittin we accept, and that we look forward to"
His words were cut off by the sudden roar of engines approaching from the direction of Mos Espa. Everyone in the encampment froze as lights appeared over the dunes, multiple vehicles moving fast and with obvious hostile intent.
"Sleemo!" one of the Jawas squeaked in alarm.
"Oh my," C-3PO said, his voice rising to a higher pitch. "Those engine signatures match several vehicles registered to known criminal organizations."
"What's wrong?" Cass demanded, though his sinking stomach already knew the answer.
Anakin's face had gone pale in the fading sunlight. "Those aren't just any speeders," he said, his voice tight with worry. "That's Jabba's crew. And I think... I think Sebulba's with them."
The approaching vehicles crested the nearest dune in a spray of sand and engine noise, their headlights cutting through the desert twilight like aggressive stars. Cass counted at least six speeders and what looked like a modified swoop bike, more than enough firepower to handle a group of Jawas and three seemingly innocent traders.
Nebula siad immediately in his mind. "Old men...Didn't you say he'd remain unconscious for at least ten hours? And here looks, he didn't come alone, he brought Jabba's entire party with him."
Cass's voice crackled through their mental link, tinged with frustration. "I don't know what went wrong. I hit him as hard as I could, but it looks like physical damage has little effect on his kind."
"But the real problem is, what are Jabba's underlings actually doing here?" Nebula said, his mind working through the possibilities. "Probably Sebulba went to Jabba's crew claiming he got robbed. He must have offered them something valuable in exchange for their help."
The lead speeder skidded to a stop about fifty meters from the Jawa encampment, its engines still growling with barely restrained aggression. A familiar orange and blue figure dismounted with obvious fury, flanked by several heavily armed beings who clearly worked for Hutt-sponsored enterprises.
Sebulba's voice carried clearly across the desert as he began shouting in a mixture of Dug and Huttese, his elongated arms gesticulating wildly as he pointed first at the merchandise sled, then at Cass and Anakin.
"What's he saying?" Cass asked, though he suspected he already knew.
"He's accusing us of theft," C-3PO translated with mechanical precision. "He claims we broke into his compound and stole his property, and now he demands its return along with substantial compensation for his trouble."
The Jawas had immediately shifted into defensive positions, their natural inclination toward self-preservation. Several of them had already begun backing toward their sandcrawlers, while others were surreptitiously reaching for weapons that Cass hoped they knew how to use.
This is about to get very messy, he realized.
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