On A Sand Dune Far Far Away

Posted on Sat Aug 8th, 2020 @ 2:38pm by Mando'ade Zaf A'Toruk
Edited on on Mon Aug 31st, 2020 @ 3:42pm

Mission: A Long Long Time Ago
Location: Some Desolate Planet in the Far Outer Rim
Timeline: 26BBY

The 'Denadre' had started as a joint project between him and his elder sister, a way to bond after far too much emotional conflict and a punishment (or learning curve as their father had called it) of sorts. Barely ten years old, Zaf hadn’t wanted the hard labour, hadn’t embraced it and had probably broken more of the parts initially than he’d fixed. The only reason he’d stuck with it had been his father’s rough words, his mother’s back-hand and the fact they were building two ships using parts from the junker VCX-100 that had been their grandfather’s. Family. It mattered more than anything.

Now, seven years later, looking at the stripped side of the old ship, Zaf felt far more anger than sorrow. He’d not been away from her that long, but on his return, he’d felt that definite crushing sense of doom as his speeder bike had arced towards the clear view of the Denadre’s brutalised form.

While, in his opinion, Vexi had scored far better from that original division of labour and parts, now, he was definitely screwed. The Denadre might not be recognisable as any defined class, pretty to look at or even particularly quick, but she was his. And someone had defiled her. Considering where he was, more than likely multiple mini-cloaked someones. They were clearly long gone now, tracks of their transport covered by the dusty winds of this godforsaken planet.

Sand dunes silently echoed from the roar of pure frustration as Zaf vented his mood upwards. He followed that with a warning shot from his vambrace and a torrent of inventive cursing in Mando’a, then stopped as a high pitched chattering caught the edge of his hearing.

What the hell?

It was a simple jump up onto the nakedly exposed rear flank of his little ship. A swift duck forward into the space where the noise had come from, a space which, previously, had definitely held more useful gubbins and obvious working parts. And there, skittering about between consoles, covered in wires from all the exposed panels was a short-ass little cloaked form that smelled like a soaked-through rat.

It turned, just as Zaf swore at it, and focused a glowy pair of orangey-yellow eyes at the young Zabrak. It didn’t seem that concerned by the possibility of instant disintegration, but tilted its head and spoke in its native language as it connected a bunch of the cable spaghetti together and cheered merrily at him.

“Ikee Cuawa Tando Ut!” It said, enthusiasm wrapped about its high pitched words as a whole array of lights came on behind it.

“I don’t care if you can,” Zaf told it, aiming a blaster lazily at it. He could kill it easily enough, but the damn thing was standing literally right in the middle of the Denadre’s guts. “Ve'ganir te haran off ner ship! Get Tiwih hell off my Reve!”

“Ikee know Ookwass Tiwih Prawts Akriwi!” It insisted, holding its hands up in surrender. “Ikee Cuawa Tadriwi! Ikee Cuawa Tando Ut!”

Zaf sighed and lowered his left arm. He really should have vaporised it by now, but... he definitely didn’t have enough money to bail himself out of this situation just yet. He was also stuck, alone, in the middle of an unknown desert on a backwater moon. No one else was coming to help him, he needed to get out of this himself. Sometimes the dumbest option was the best one, if it meant surviving…

“Ikee come Uik'wanna Juwi!” The jawa declared.

“Show me where my stuff is,” Zaf demanded. “And I’ll think about it.”

Think about ending you and your tiny little thieving friends.

But before he could do that, in the midst of an unkind desert planet with zero allies to call on, Zaf needed to find those parts. Then, well he could get the hell out of here and back to civilization so that he could collect his reward. Did it really matter if the damned Jawa survived a couple more hours in the interest of achieving all of that?