The trip was uneventful, much to Pal's dismay. Nothing bothered us even during the night. On the second day, we reached the outwall part of town at around midday.

  This time I'd left Red behind to supervise the Power Hauler's excavations. The little droid wasn't upset, it fact Red seemed to like the idea of being in charge of the other droid. Uh, maybe I should check his coding again.

  A rge part of me hadn't want to return to Rekarsh, but the next closest pce to trade, that I knew about, was Tergras. A four day journey, and I only had a vague idea of where it was. Viable map data was expensive because the Hutts didn't want people feeling safe to move around much.

  There was an underground market for such things, but it often ended up being even more expensive. That was if they didn't outright rob you or worse. However, I might need to deal with them to move these new metals instead of the standard channels. The metals might be fgged as contraband, or so valuable that the Hutts would break their own rules to find more.

  Which meant I needed to see the Quoop'entini Cn of Jawas. For Jawas, they were a highly aggressive and vicious bunch. That emuted the Hutts more than a little. Just without the veneer of civility. Though they did have a rough code of honor, which made them better than the Hutts in my eyes.

  The rules with them was simple. One, don't waste their time. Two, their price was their price, no bargaining. Three, no questions and by extension no names. Failure to comply was met with massive amounts ion bster fire. And don't make the mistake of thinking ion bsters only worked on droids or shields. You get hit enough, you fry. They were good shots.

  As strange as a whole Cn of Jawas that didn't want to bargain were, the Quoop'entini were weirder. They thought of themselves as warriors, not merchants. They hunted the deserts, and often killed the strongest beasts, often through sheer numbers and cunning. They valued trophies and symbols of their prowess.

  I'd be a lot more worried about dealing with them, if I didn't have a contact. Lossha'kilgis had often came to me to repair and upgrade his weapons and gear. Even if we weren't friendly, there was respect. That was worth quite a bit to them, and would get me in the door.

  I hoped they'd be interested in these odd metals.

  I passed through town, not bothering to stop the speeder, and continued to the Bazaar. It was about 10 kilometers out, and run by a council of various unfavorable groups.

  Because credits made the sands flow, the Quoop'entini always maintained a small presence at the market. Sometimes they hired out as mercenaries. Sometimes they were the easiest group to sell things to, if you wanted to avoid entanglements. Sometimes no one else would deal with you.

  Calling the Bazaar a collection of tents and stalls was an understatement, it covered over 5 square kilometers. Yet, it could be broken down and moved in a matter of fifteen minutes. You never found it in the same pce twice. You just went a certain distance from town, and hunted around until you found it, or it found you.

  The colors were the first thing I always noticed. The merchants always tried to out do one another with the most outrageous or ridiculous pigments. The next thing that usually caught my attention was the movement. Even in the slightest breezes the cloth shadings and tents themselves rippled. The Bazaar always seemed to be unduting.

  Next was the sound of it all. The noise was constant droning buzz of at least a dozen nguages at any one time. The occasional bster fire, and the cries of beasts for sale somewhere at the edge of it all.

  The abundant smells were mostly from oils. Oils to clean your armor or weapons or droids or speeders, the list was long. Every once in a while, you could catch a whiff of food or raw spices. Sometimes the harsh chemical smells of various types of material processing.

  Last was the crowds, a sea of bodies of every description, even a Hutt was likely around somewhere. Yes, they knew this was out here, but they let it be. They got something out of all this underhanded trading too. I didn't know what. Nor did I much care.

  No one approached me, not even with the frivolous sales offers, the stalls' proprietors avoided looking at us for too long. Not because of me, no certainly not. Pal was just that intimidating. He also knew how to loom for maximum effect. His posture radiated a ck of tolerance for banthacrap.

  It wasn't hard to find their stall. While the Bazaar was flooded with Jawas, the Quoop'entini stood out, the heaviest armor they could manage over their burgundy robes. Usually three or more visible weapons. Then there were the trophies. Bones of previous kills adorning their necks, and pinned to their armor. Small and fierce.

  "Hold, hold, now. Check you." Said one of the three guards. It held up it hand. Its eyes shone with an orange gleam. One of the other guards pulled out a scanner and waved it over me.

  "Clean, good weapon. No surprises." Ah, no they weren't going to take my weapon, they just wanted to know what I had. If it came down to a fight, they earned more honor for killing me while I was armed.

  "Droid stay, we not bother." The first guard added. That did bother me a bit, but it wasn't unexpected.

  I nodded and entered their tent, where an Elder of their Cn sat on his little Sowa. A Sowa was a chair made from and festooned with the best of their kills. Each member of the Cn started making their Sowa from the time they started hunting. But they were not allow to sit on it, until they became an Elder. An interesting custom.

  "You known, you welcome. Speak purpose." The old Jawa's voice was harsh with age. It moved slow, but I knew that was a trick. IT probably had a dozen weapon close to hand. And I'd bet was an expert with all of them.

  "Sell." Keeping words to a minimum was a mark of respect with these Jawas. I id out an ingot of Adamantite, Truesilver, and Electrum. I hadn't bothered with bringing the Desh or Bronzium.

  The Elder's eyes seemed to gain a brighter glow. It knew exactly what these metals were. "You bring good." It touched the Adamantite bar, "500 credit." It touched the Truesilver bar, "1000 credit." It touched the Electrum bar, "2000 credit."

  It nodded. "Price given."

  I tried to keep my expression bnk, it might not have mattered too much Jawa's weren't good at understanding other species facial queues. I had 25 ingots of each metal. I knew just under a 100,000 credit was much in the grand scheme of things. But I never expected to get so much, from just my first load.

  "I have more." Not sure, I wanted to reveal that in light of the prices.

  It nodded again, "Bring all. Price honored."

  I returned the nod, "Sold." It hummed approval.

  After that, things were simple. Their motley collection of porters and a few guards followed me back to the speeder. Apparently, someone had tried to steal my speeder, their charred remains a testament to the wages of too much greed. Pal tsked at not being able to met out punishment himself.

  The Quoop'entini hummed their approval at my cunning. They hate thieves, and unlike other Jawas have strict property rights. Like I said, if you were used to Jawa, the Quoop'entini were weird.

  They also admired the armaments of my speeder, while the porters loaded the ingots onto a carts.

  "Elder say, find more, bring us. Good deal. No tricks." The lead guard said as the rest left. It handed me 97.5 thousand credits on a credit stick. It was probably already thinking about its next weapons upgrades.

  I nodded not trusting myself to speak, right now.

  My dream was so close, and I was terrified something was going to interfere.