Chapter One: The Scavenger and the Droid

The metal wall gave way with a low, agonized whine, sending a shudder of movement down the wire before suddenly tearing away from the rest of the wreck. Raey's stomach lurched as he abruptly fell a foot or so, a drop cut short when he lunged for the shaft-wall, latching onto any solid grip available.

He stayed very still, one foot pressed awkwardly against a depression in the metal, his fingers dug into one of the decorative grooves that ran around the elevator shaft. The harness keeping him attached to his climbing line felt relaxed – not a good sign. He glanced upward and saw the damaged wall, his grapple still firmly connected to a section of metal plate held together only by a few aging bolts. For a tense moment he waited, listening for any sound of the wall giving up completely. If that happened, he'd have to trust his weight to one hand and half-a-foothold in order to disconnect the wireline, or that falling metal would drag him off the wall into the bowels of the wreck where scavengers of a different nature would chew on his broken bones for the marrow.

"Pleasant thought," he muttered to himself, but the peeling metal made no further attempt to move. Slowly, trying to minimize movement, he shifted positions to get a more stable hold. Then, steeling himself with a deep breath, he let go with one hand and grabbed his emergency grapple.

The line was shorter, but that was all he needed. He scanned the shaft, straining his neck to try and see behind him, to find the sturdiest-looking bit of wall. He finally decided on a section just above a bit of torn-up wall, which would give him a foothold if the worst came to the worst. The grapple dug in with a satisfying thunk. He gave the line a tug, made sure it was connected to his harness, then gritted his teeth and let go.

Falling gave Raey a special kind of anxiety. For as long as he could remember, he had taken falls bracing for the day his line just... snapped. He would have no warning, and there would be nothing to break his fall. It would just keep going down into the dark until he couldn't see what actually killed him at the bottom. The floor, probably, but in nightmares it was all kinds of things.

Today wasn't Break Day. His second grapple held firm, the wire snapped taut, and he slammed into the opposite wall with enough force to wind him. Once he had collected himself, he gave the wall an at-first careful, then rigorous, pounding to make sure it actually was solid. Only then did he turn his attention back to his main line.

Disconnect, reel in, check the grapple tip for damage. The line fed back into his climbing gear, and the tip snapped handily into his launch-bracer for quick deployment. He eyed the control panel on the opposite wall, half-dismantled and still ripe with repurposeable innards, but the failure of his line the first time had soured the idea of another attempt. Scavenging, you didn't always get a second chance to save yourself.

He almost let it be. He had rusted sheet-metal back home to scrub, parts down below to sort and repair, traders in town to haggle with... there were always other options. And yet, for all that, the decision was somehow already made.

.

The cavernous guts of a downed Star Destroyer made for good shelter in the deserts of Jakku, but eventually supplies ran low. When water reserves sloshed around the very bottom of the barrel, however rich the scavenging had been, it was time to pack up and head out.

Raey crouched in the circle of light created by his half-dead glowlamp, picking over the parts he had ripped from rusting walls over the last three days. His dust-runner lurked just beyond the light, loaded with the salvage he already knew he could use. It had been a tight squeeze, getting the ramshackled speeder inside and out of sight, but he dared not leave it outside. His fellow scavengers were resourceful; if they couldn't steal it, they'd tear it down for parts.

In other words – life on Jakku.

When the dust-runner could carry no more, Raey stashed the rest of his salvage beneath some innocuous floor panels. If during his next salvage-run he ended up with some carrying capacity left, it would be better to fill that space up with some third-rate junk then with nothing.

He blew dirt across the edges of the torn-up panel, grabbed his glowlamp, and gave his make-shift campsite one last glance to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

"I'm not going to be back for a while," he warned the empty chamber, as if overlooked treasures could pipe up and beg him to take them with him. When he received no reply, as always, he snapped the glowlamp into place on the side of his dust-runner and climbed up onto the battered seat.

The dull, coughing roar of his speeder echoed through the ruin. He carefully maneuvered out into the main engine shaft, then opened it up all the way. The dust-runner bounced erratically as it sped over the uneven metal terrain, then abruptly leveled out when he hit sand. He let up on the speed immediately; his speeder's momentum took them right to the edge of the sand-drift and gravity did the rest. The dust-runner slid down like a hovering sledder, picking up momentum all the way to the desert floor before running it all out on the level.

Raey rose slightly in his seat to glance back, just to make sure he hadn't lost anything (and that none of the more aggressive scavengers had been lying in wait and noticed him for an ambush). Nothing seemed out of place. He let out a breath of relief and turned his attention back in front of him.

"Time to get home," he muttered, patting the side of his battered vehicle. Something came off in his hand - he brushed rust flakes off his palm.

.

If you were lucky, you could make it all the way from the ship graveyard to the trader junkyard without actually encountering another scavenger. At least out on the open sand, you could usually see fellow travelers from a fair bit off and avoid them. Raey had lost a secondary nav-computer once - admittedly a half-destroyed one, but a nav-computer nonetheless - when he strayed too close to a fellow scavenger. She had yelled threats and waved her blaster in his face... Raey still regretted the loss of that thing.

Experience had taught him to be wary, so when he heard the alarmed yet musical burbling from just over the next ridge, he hesitated. Caution, insisted his survival instincts, but Raey had a lot of instincts. There was a mechanical trill to the alien burbling... it was too precise, too clean. He winced at himself, looking around for any sign of ambushers or trickery, then turned off-course just enough to intersect with this new sound.

Droid.

Another scavenger wrestled with the spherical machine, trying to drag the droid along in a net while said droid rolled around in every direction other then forward, beeping like a spacer. Raey's eyes fixated on the white and orange orb-with-a-head, the possibilities racing through his mind in increasingly exciting circles.

He slowed to a nonthreatening speed and pulled up next to, not a junkyard scavenger as he had assumed, but a native. He pulled down the scarf protecting his face and pushed his own sand-shield goggles up to perch on his forehead.

"Having some trouble with your salvage?" he called, keeping his voice friendly and casual. The native snapped at him, something about minding his own business. Raey knew the language well enough, but since he rarely had reason to chat with the natives his teedo-speak was as rusty as his dust-runner.

"Looks like you're going to have a fight on your hands," he pressed anyway. "You must have a great buyer in mind to put up with a droid like that."

The teedo probably didn't understand Basic any better then Raey knew the native language, but Raey injected some disgust into his last few words and, combined with a scornful look at the little round droid, the teedo got the idea. It cursed and suggested Raey ~go scratch rust, scrap-eater, and to leave it alone.~

Raey licked his dry lips. Careful. "If you don't have a buyer in mind," he began slowly, then switched languages. ~I trade you. Good parts, bad droid.~

~Get buried in the sand, not-teedo.~

The droid, beneath the notice of its captor in light of the conversation going on, lit a little plasma laser to start burning through the net holding it. Raey noticed this at the edge of his vision, but forced himself not to focus on it.

~Droid... difficult. Fuses, converter, fuel cell are less trouble.~

"Get lost," spat the teedo. That it managed perfectly.

Snap. Several twisted pieces of rope tore apart and the droid beebled, tugging almost free as it rolled relentlessly against the compromised net. The teedo screamed (Raey had no idea what that translated to), and tugged at its beast's reins, trying to whack the droid with a stick as it slowly wheeled around. Raey swung his leg over his speeder and slid to the ground, then ran over to grab the near-escaping droid with both hands.

"I won't take you apart," he hissed in a whisper to the droid, "but lots of scavengers around here would. Let me get you away from Teedo, then we can negotiate."

Then, hoping the teedo hadn't heard that, he stood and raised his voice over the now-protesting beast of burden the teedo rode. ~Trade, Teedo. All good salvage.~

~Deal. Melt droid...~ – Something Raey couldn't translate – ~... take it. Give.~

Raey cut the droid out of what remained of the net, hoping against his good instincts that the little machine wouldn't take off immediately, and went back to his speeder. It was painful, handing over so much of his salvage, but with luck that droid would prove far more valuable then a week's worth of starship junk. Finally the teedo, apparently as happy with the trade as an enormously grumpy creature could be, smacked its mechanical mount and started trundling away, dragging Raey's loot behind it like so much garbage.

Raey let out a breath and glanced back at the droid, which responded by rolling a half-pace away from him with a wary beweep? He let it, crouching down on his toes so he could look it in the electronic eye.

"I don't know what you're doing out here all alone, but there are scavengers and worse all over this planet. Come back to my place, okay? You'll be safe there."

Beeps, whistles, and a little head-tilt. Raey winced.

"I don't speak droid, pal. I do have an old translator, but it's... not with me. Can the question wait until we-?"

The droid burst out with a frantic series of musical chatter, then rolled forward to bump against Raey's knees. The sudden movement almost made him lose his balance; he rocked back on his heels, then hastily stood as the droid began rolling away hurriedly like a sand-devil was after him.

"Hey, wait!"

The droid stopped and looked back, making urgent sounds. Then rolled a bit further, then looked back again. The message was clear.

Raey hesitated, but not for long. Whatever this droid wanted, it was worth the risk to pursue. He hopped onto his dust-runner and turned off the beaten path to follow the droid out into the empty desert.

.

Dusk was falling. Raey rubbed a sleeve over his goggles to clear them of dust while still keeping his eyes fixed on the energetic droid ahead. His mouth was dry (his canteen was empty and he daren't stop to refill it) and the thought of home, dusty and dark though it was, seemed infinitely preferable to spending a night out here on the sand. But at this point he was committed, for better or worse.

As if sensing his thoughts, the droid swiveled its head around to look back at him. Raey could barely hear the beeps over his engine, but the little head-bob that accompanied them gave him hope. Nearly there, the droid seemed to say.

He let go of one of the dust-runner's grips and leaned over the side to make sure his staff was still lashed there within easy reach. The possibility of an ambush had not escaped him, though this would be one of the stranger techniques for luring in victims that he had seen. If worst came to worst... well, hopefully it wouldn't come to worst.

Then, as they drew close to one of the many rocky outcroppings that rose from the sand, the droid started acting up again, bwooping and making frantic little head-motions like a hyperactive jawa. As they got closer, Raey's fear of ambush slipped. Yes, the outcropping provided plenty of opportunities for hiding, but the droid's behavior... it wasn't even thinking about him right now. It was concerned about something. Worried.

Or, as worried as a droid was capable of.

It rolled up among the rocks. Raey hesitated, his dust-runner too bulky and awkward to maneuver through such rough terrain, then powered the vehicle down and slid down to the ground. He tugged his staff free of the netting that held it, then cautiously approached the outcropping.

"Beewbeee!"

He followed the sound through the rocks, tense despite all his rationalizing. The droid, just ahead, gave one more urgent call. When Raey ducked under the last overhang that separated them and straightened on the other side, the droid's repeated yet untranslated attempts to communicate suddenly made perfect sense.

The round ball of gadgets and advanced emotional-programming hovered desperately over a still, silent figure, lying limply in the shadows of the rocks.