One hour later, the three moons of Tatooine hung like silver coins in the star-scattered sky, casting the desert world in an ethereal glow that made even the dusty streets of Mos Espa seem almost magical. The transport droid hummed quietly as they approached the familiar silhouette of Watto's junkyard, its precious cargo secure in the magnetic clamps. Cool night air carried the scent of cooling metal and distant moisture vaporators, a welcome relief from the day's scorching heat.
Cass brought the transport to a halt just outside the workshop's perimeter, the engine's low rumble fading into the desert's nocturnal symphony of clicking insects and distant bantha calls.
"Anakin," he said, turning to face the boy who had been unusually quiet during their journey back. "Go tell your mother what's happening and gather your belongings. Pack light, but take anything that has sentimental value. You won't be coming back to this place."
The young slave's eyes widened as the reality of what was about to happen finally struck him completely. He nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're really going to do this?"
"I gave you my word," Cass replied firmly, his gaze steady and reassuring. "Now go. Time is something we don't have much of."
As Anakin climbed down from the transport, C-3PO followed behind him with his characteristic awkward gait, photoreceptors glowing softly in the moonlight. The boy began running toward the slave quarters while the golden protocol droid called after him: "Master Anakin, do wait for me! These desert nights are quite treacherous for droids of my particular construction!"
Cass called after him through the night air: "Anakin, don't forget C-3PO! Bring him with you, he'll be useful for your journey, and he deserves better than gathering dust in a junkyard."
The boy's footsteps echoed off the narrow alleyways before fading into the maze of makeshift dwellings. Cass watched until the small figure disappeared, then turned his attention to the massive transport full of salvaged treasure. He drew a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs as he steeled himself for what would either be the most important negotiation, or a complete disaster.
Watto's workshop was still dimly lit, warm yellow light spilling from the open doorway. The familiar sounds of mechanical tinkering drifted into the night, the whir of power tools, the clank of metal on metal, punctuated by occasional curses in Huttese when something didn't fit quite right. The Toydarian junk dealer was apparently working late, completely unaware that his world was about to change.
Cass activated the transport droid's spotlight. The brilliant beam cut through the darkness, illuminating a carefully selected portion of their haul, just enough to catch Watto's attention without revealing everything at once. The polished surfaces of advanced droids gleamed like precious gems, and the sophisticated equipment seemed to glow with promise.
"Watto!" he called out, his voice carrying clearly in the still night air. "I need to discuss some business with you."
The sound of mechanical work stopped abruptly, followed by the distinctive buzz of Toydarian wings beating rapidly. Watto appeared in the doorway, his bulbous eyes immediately focusing on the illuminated transport behind Cass. His expression shifted from annoyed surprise to greedy curiosity in seconds.
"Eh? Republic man?" Watto's gravelly voice carried a mixture of surprise and suspicion as he hovered closer. "What you doing here so late? And what's that you got there? Looks expensive..."
"Payment," Cass said simply, letting the word hang in the air between them. "For the freedom of Anakin and Shmi Skywalker."
Watto's wings beat faster, lifting him slightly higher as he processed the words. His calculating mind immediately began working through the implications. "Freedom? Hah! You think you can just buy my slaves like that? They're worth more than whatever junk you picked up in the desert!"
"Take a closer look," Cass said, gesturing toward the transport with practiced confidence. "Fifteen fully operational droids, three hyperdrive components, advanced power converters, sensor arrays, and enough rare materials to keep your shop profitable for months. Maybe years."
The Toydarian's eyes grew wider as he flew closer to inspect the cargo, his natural instincts as a parts dealer taking over. His greedy fingers traced over the sophisticated droid components, his expression shifting from skepticism to growing amazement.
Watto pulled out a small diagnostic scanner from his tool belt and began methodically checking each piece of equipment. The first droid, a sleek medical unit with pristine white plating, responded immediately to his power probe. Its optical sensors lit up with a soft blue glow, and status lights flickered to life across its chest panel.
"Bah! Could be fake," he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction as he moved to the next item, his movements becoming more eager with each test.
The hyperdrive components were next. Watto's experienced hands found the maintenance ports and connected his scanner with practiced efficiency. The readout made his bulbous eyes widen even further, these weren't just functional, they were high-grade units worth more than half his shop's inventory combined.
"Impossible," he whispered, floating over to one of the power converters. This time he abandoned all pretense of casual interest, physically opening the casing to examine the internal crystalline matrix. The intricate latticework of energy conduits was pristine, unmarked by the wear that would indicate salvaged parts. The crystal cores pulsed with contained energy, their surfaces reflecting the workshop's light like captured stars.
One of the technical droids activated when Watto accidentally triggered its sensor array, speaking in perfect language: "Diagnostic complete. All systems nominal. Requesting work assignment."
Watto nearly tumbled from the air in surprise, his wings buzzing frantically to maintain altitude. "They're... they're all working perfectly," he breathed, spinning around to face Cass with an expression mixing awe and deep suspicion. "This is... this is enough equipment to outfit a small fleet!"
He continued his inspection with increasing excitement, checking sensor arrays that hummed with barely contained power, examining rare metal alloys that gleamed like precious stones under his scanner's beam, and testing communication equipment that responded with crystal-clear transmissions.
"This... this is quality merchandise," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice filled with wonder. "Where did you get all this?"
"That's not your concern," Cass replied evenly, his tone brooking no argument. "The question is: are the Skywalkers free?"
Watto hovered in silence for several long moments, his calculating mind working through the implications. The value before him was staggering, more wealth than he'd seen in months of dealing. But something nagged at him, a dealer's instinct that whispered of danger. Finally, he shook his head and backed away from the transport.
"Hey, Republic man, this is... this is big decision. You come back tomorrow, yes? I think about it tonight. Maybe we make deal then."
But Cass didn't have time for games, and he could see the hesitation in Watto's suspicious gaze. the junk dealer's instincts were telling him something wasn't right about this sudden windfall. The Toydarian was stalling, probably planning to investigate or contact someone. Time was running out.
Cass pressed his advantage, returning to the transport and beginning to unload additional items with deliberate precision. Medical droids with gleaming chrome surfaces, technical specialists with multiple articulated arms, and security droids that stood like silent sentinels in the moonlight. The sight of such high-grade hardware finally broke through Watto's remaining resistance.
These were the accumulations of years of Jawa collecting, the finest materials they kept for themselves, never trading with outsiders. The difference in quality was immediately apparent to Watto's experienced eye. Where the droids Cass had purchased before were good second-hand units, these materials from the Jawas' private reserves were exceptional, pristine pieces that made even the greedy Toydarian's breath catch.
"These are more than enough!" Watto exclaimed, his eyes practically glowing with avarice as he flew from piece to piece. "Hey, Republic man, how were you able to gather so much valuable material? You rob the Core Worlds or something?"
"It's not your problem," Cass replied coolly, his patience wearing thin. "Now, are the Skywalkers free or not?"
Watto rubbed his hands together eagerly, his wings buzzing with barely contained excitement. "Yes, yes! With this much wealth, I could buy dozens of slaves like them! You fool, are all you Republic people this generous? I pray I could meet such people every day!"
His cruel laughter echoed through the night air but was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps on sand. Anakin and Shmi Skywalker emerged from the shadows, the boy carrying a small pack containing their few precious belongings while his mother held C-3PO's restraining bolt. Her weathered face showed a mixture of hope and disbelief, as if she couldn't quite believe their nightmare might finally be ending.
When Anakin heard Watto's mocking words about buying more slaves, his reaction was immediate and heartfelt. He ran straight to Cass and threw his small arms around the man's waist, his voice thick with emotion.
"Marcus," he whispered, the name carrying all his gratitude and wonder. "I will never forget this. Never."
Cass knelt down to meet the boy at eye level, placing his hands gently on the child's shoulders. His expression grew serious and intense. "Anakin, listen to me carefully. Look into my eyes."
The boy's bright blue gaze met his without wavering.
"I need you to understand something important," Cass continued, choosing his words with care. "The galaxy is vast, and you have something special inside you, something I've never seen before. You could go anywhere and do anything but rising above all, That's your destiny."
Anakin listened intently, hanging on every word, though confusion flickered across his young features.
"But I need you to promise me something crucial," Cass continued, his voice taking on a note of urgent warning. "Someday, people might come to you. They'll dress like nobles and speak of honor and destiny. They might even offer you power or special weapons. But if they ever, ever—tell you that you must abandon your mother to follow their path, you must refuse them. Promise me that if anyone asks you to leave your mother behind, you'll stay away from them. They are not your friends, Anakin. They will bring you nothing but pain."
Cass couldn't bring himself to mention the Jedi directly, he didn't want to plant seeds of hatred in the boy's innocent heart. But he had to try to change the path that led to so much suffering.
Anakin's eyes were wide with confusion, but something in Cass's tone convinced him of the warning's importance. He nodded solemnly. "I promise. But... can't I stay with you? You're good to us."
Cass smiled sadly, touching the boy's cheek gently. "That brings us to your choice. You can go to the planet Tython and wait for me there. I'll reach you in two to three weeks, maybe a month at most. You'll be safe there, and you can make your own path." He paused, studying the boy's face. "But if you choose to follow me... I can't promise you'll become the most powerful person in the galaxy, but I will make sure nothing happens to you or your mother. That's my promise to you."
Before Anakin could respond, Cass turned to C-3PO, who had been standing quietly nearby. "Threepio, I need you to remember something very important. If people who call themselves Jedi Knights ever come near you, you must immediately send a signal toward the Naboo system. Can you do that for me?"
"Of course, Master Marcus," C-3PO replied with typical droid compliance, his photoreceptors glowing softly. "Though I must say, this all seems rather mysterious and cloak-and-dagger for a protocol droid."
Shmi Skywalker stepped forward, her weathered hands clasped together. Her face had been transformed by gratitude and wonder, years of hopelessness replaced by something she'd almost forgotten, hope itself.
"I don't know who you really are," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of a lifetime's dreams suddenly made real. "But you've given us something we never dared dream of. How can we ever repay such kindness?"
Cass felt an unexpected pang of guilt at her words, knowing his motivations were far more complex than simple altruism. But her genuine gratitude touched something deep within him. "Just take care of each other," he said simply, then gestured toward the spaceport. "Come on. Let's get you to your new life."
The walk to Mos Espa's spaceport was conducted in relative silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts about what this moment meant. The desert air had grown cooler, carrying the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures and the ever-present hum of moisture vaporators.
The ship that awaited them was sleek and well-maintained, marcus's personal vessel now serving as the key to the Skywalkers' freedom. Its hull reflected the starlight like polished silver, and the gentle hum of its systems spoke of quality engineering and careful maintenance.
As they reached the ship's boarding ramp, Anakin suddenly turned and ran back to Cass, throwing his arms around him once more. The days they'd spent together had forged an unexpected bond, the boy, starved for affection beyond his mother's love, had begun to see Cass as something of a father figure.
"Why don't you come with us?" he asked desperately, his young voice cracking with emotion. "Sebulba and Jabba's people will hunt you down when they find out what happened tonight. They'll want revenge."
Cass smiled with genuine confidence, ruffling the boy's sandy hair. "There's no one on this Outer Rim planet who can harm me, Anakin. Don't worry about that."
Privately, he reached out with his mind. "Nebula, am i right about this?"
The response came immediately, a presence in his thoughts. "Probability of your current spectral form dying on this planet is extremely low. Even if something happened to marcus's physical body, your essence would survive. Only Force-users of significant power like jedi or sith lords could truly threaten your ghost form."
The confirmation settled any lingering doubts in his mind about staying behind.
The boy studied his face for a long moment, as if trying to memorize every detail. His blue eyes searched Cass's features with an intensity that seemed far beyond his years. Finally, he nodded and stepped back, though his expression remained troubled.
"I'll go to Tython," he said quietly, his decision firm despite his obvious reluctance. "And I'll wait for you there."
"Good choice," Cass replied, his voice warm with approval. "Take care of your mother, Anakin. And remember what I told you about those who would ask you to abandon her. That's the most important thing I can teach you."
Shmi approached, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Will we see you again?" she asked softly.
"Yes," Cass said with certainty. "I keep my promises."
As the Skywalkers and C-3PO boarded the ship, Cass stepped back into the shadows of the spaceport. The engines hummed to life with a deep, thrumming vibration that he could feel in his chest. Landing lights illuminated the ground around the vessel, and the smell of ionized air filled his nostrils as the repulsors engaged.
Within moments, the ship lifted off into the star-filled sky, its lights growing smaller and smaller until they became just another point of light among the countless stars. Cass watched until even that faded, knowing that he had just set in motion events that would reshape the galaxy's future.
The question that remained was whether that reshaping would bring salvation or destruction. Only time would tell, but for now, two slaves were free, and a boy with unlimited potential had been given a choice about his own destiny.