Tatooine - 10 ABY
The Sandcrawler moved slowly over the dunes of Tatooine like a large metal slug, leaving behind a track that would soon be blown back smooth leaving no evidence of activity. The twin suns were at their highest point and as their light shown down on the bleak surface of the planet, a flash of light reflected off a set of binocs, their owner perched on a craggy rock face above the valley. A downed speeder lay abandoned out beyond the Sandcrawler. The Jawas had a nose for discarded parts and they always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else. A gloved hand moved the binocs down and a goggled face shook in frustration. Arden stood up and ran back towards his 74-Z. It was faster than any Sandcrawler but he wouldn’t have much time to pull parts with the Jawas only five hundred meters away. He’d dealt with them before and in times past he’d have probably let them have it, but he needed a break. Scavenging had been scarce lately and he was running low on supplies. This wasn't the security he had been used to all those years before, before the battle of Endor. Back in those days he was an officer, there was a certain level of control and needs were easily met. But out here, in the outer rim, on the windswept dunes of Tatooine, nothing was easily acquired or kept.
The bike engaged with a high pitched hum as Arden pressed down on the foot pedal and sped off to towards the speeder. He’d only have a 15 minutes or so to get the parts that would be most valuable, namely the power generator. He’d leave the rest for the Jawas. His skills had improved quit a bit since he came to Tatooine and he had made a name for himself as a reliable scavenger among other things. He kept his skills in combat to himself. That kind of work was behind him. Occasionally he’d have to fight off some Tusken Raiders if they got too near his home. He was once in an altercation at Tosche Station, but it didn't amount to much. He was able to avoid pulling his blaster that time but largely violence had stopped being a daily part of his life.
He pulled up quickly and jumped off the bike, his long natural colored tunic revealing the wind that was beginning to pick up. He really hoped a sandstorm wasn’t eminent. Just another thing to deal with as the Sandcrawler inched its way closer. He unstrapped his projectile rifle from his back and leaned it against the speeder. He’d have to remove the access panel quickly, then cut the control leads and disconnect the power couplings. The brackets wouldn’t be easy. They were rusted and probably seized up. He began the process, his slicing tool, a small metal tube omitting an energy beam, cutting through the hoses. The couplings would be more difficult. It would require a wrench to free it them up from the power generator. This speeder had been sitting here a while. He was amazed that it hadn’t been spotted already, but him or anyone else. The Sandcrawler was gaining. He took an oil bottle from the satchel that hung at his side and applied it while he turned the wrench. Finally, the coupling turned and he disconnected it. A few more to go. He had salvaged more parts than he cared to remember from any number of broken down wrecks, lost droids, and those who the Jundland Wastes managed to claim from the sheer harsh features of it’s being. A bag with a pair of binoculars, a blaster in a holster, a Tusken rifle. These things brought in a little, but wrecked droids and speeders paid more. It was hard for Arden to imagine his life before all this, when everything was more or less a given. Life aboard Imperial Cruisers was mundane, monotonous and varied little in the day to day. Here in the outer rim, every day was a new frontier of possibility, mostly of life or death. It was harsh, and people tended to group together in the small settlements that dotted the region. Those who dared go it alone, moisture farmers and scavengers like himself were often left to fend for themselves with little protection from local authorities, if they existed at all.
BOOM! The blast from the Sandcrawler made Arden fall backwards as it nearly missed the speeder, likely on purpose. Jawas weren’t particularly violent. All they ever hoped to do was scare off potential competitors and they possessed just enough fire power to be dangerous, but not enough to mount a large scale attack, despite the enormity of the armored Sandcrawler. Arden had just managed to get the power generator free and ran back for it as another blast landed nearby. He dove behind the speeder, checked his rifle, and returned a shot that clanged against the metal plates of the slug like craft coming towards him. Another blast fell, and this time his bike was obliterated into hundreds of pieces. To his right, the valley wound around a steep wall of rock. He was pretty certain if he ran, they’d give up and go about their business of collecting what he hadn’t taken from the speeder. He strapped the small generator to his back, and made a break for it. The Sandcrawler slowed to a stop and two hooded figures peaked out of main cockpit and watched as a lone figure scurried along the edge of the rock face and disappeared around its corner.
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