Anakin sat outside, tinkering with a part for his pod racer. The suns rose slowly, bringing with them the blistering heat.
I'll have to go inside soon, so I can get ready to go to the shop.
He wasn't normally awake at this time, but he'd woken early from a nightmare.
In the nightmare, Anakin had been running through Mos Espa, dodging the countless merchants and malodorous animals. He was running as fast as he could, but somehow the masked man was always behind him. The man was dressed all in black, with flashing lights on his chest and a dark, heavy helmet that completely obscured his face – Anakin wasn't even sure if he was human. Anakin ran and ran, but after a while, he seemed stuck, unable to move his legs quickly. He turned, staring in horror at the masked man who stood only a few metres behind him. Slowly, the man raised his hands to his head, starting to remove his helmet…
Anakin had woken with a scream. He was shaking, and felt ill. His mother Shmi had rushed in, and tried to calm him, but Anakin told his mother go back to bed. He thought getting up and going outside would make him feel better.
No chance of that.
These vivid dreams were becoming more and more frequent. Some were full of happiness, but most were terrifying, full of pain and suffering. The other day, he'd dreamt that he was older, perhaps 19 or 20, marrying the most beautiful brunette woman. In the dream, he could feel intense love for the woman.
The love seemed to burn passionately in his chest – it was a good burn, but he could feel that no one could take her from him without suffering his wrath. The very next day, Anakin had dreamt of the masked man again.
The masked popped up in Anakin's dreams almost nightly. Just thinking about it made him shiver, even with the now sweltering heat that surrounded him.
"Anakin! You have to eat something before you go to Watto's shop!" his mother called from inside.
Anakin reluctantly got up and began his morning routine. He dressed, ate and headed out the door to his master.
The day was a slow one – Watto flitted in and out of the shop, convincing people to buy his wares. Only 3 customers even walked in, and only 2 bought anything at all.
Once he'd cleaned the shelves, Watto sent him out to the junkyard to repair an engine bought from Jawas the day before. Anakin fixed it in only a few minutes, but instead of going inside for more jobs, he picked up the old vibroblade he kept hidden in a little gap in the wall.
The blade was heavy in his hands, but he'd grown slightly more used since he'd started practising with it. Anakin found it in a box of wares Watto asked him to sort through nearly a year ago. He'd grown a fair amount in the last year, and at nearly 9 years old, he could now wield it fairly well.
I bet I could beat anyone in a fight with it!
Feeling calmed by the feel of the sword in his hands, he swung it, relishing in the sound it made as it whizzed through the air. Grinning, he stood before the damaged and discarded droids on the floor, holding the sword aloft.
"I am Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and I am here to free you!" he whispered triumphantly.
"I will release you, and you'll never have to take orders from anyone ever again!"
He swung the sword, pretending he'd spotted an adversary.
"Die, evil slave master!"
In his mind, he fought a cloaked humanoid, whose scared face he could not clearly see. He duelled with his invisible foe expertly, parrying and riposting with speed and grace. The vibroblade swung in his hands instinctively, but in Anakin's mind, it was a lazer sword, glowing blue.
"Boy! What's taking so long!" Watto called from inside.
Anakin jumped with fright, the sword falling out of his hand onto the ground. It narrowly missed his boots, and his heart skipped a beat.
Watto is not an awful slave master I guess. Though it would be nice to be rid of him.
"I'm coming now Watto!" he called back, stowing his sword away again.
Anakin felt considerably cheered up after he'd spent some time in the junkyard. The masked man lurked at the back of his mind, but for the most part he was able to repair what he needed to, snuck a bit more time in the junkyard playing, and convinced Watto to give him a few more parts for the droid he was building.
Not even Watto's grumbling could dampen his spirits by the afternoon – Kitster had dropped in and promised to meet him when they both finished working for the day.
"Ok boy, dust the shelves out the back, then you can go home", Watto said, slumped in his chair, counting the few credits he had sitting in the till.
Anakin cleaned the shelves far too quickly, but Watto didn't seem to notice. In only a few minutes, Anakin was skipping out of the shop, ready to find his friend. They met up half way out of the town, chatting excitedly together as they found a secluded spot just out of sight of the centre of Mos Espa.
"How's the droid going Ani?" Kitster asked, picking up a stone and throwing it as far as he could.
"Better, now Watto is letting me take parts from the shop." Anakin threw a stone, which fell slightly short of Kitster's.
Since when is Kitster better than me at anything?
Kitster whooped before throwing another stone.
"I wish I could build a droid. You could sell it and make enough money to free yourself!"
"Yeah, maybe. Watto definitely needs the credits."
Anakin furrowed his brow in concentration, then threw another stone. It soared way over his previous attempt, landing almost three times further. Anakin beamed at his friend, secretly glad.
"Woah Ani! That was…"
Kitster was cut off by a hand covering his mouth. Anakin's eyes widened in shock as another hand closed around his mouth. After a second, Anakin realized they weren't hands at all, but the feet of a Dug.
Closing around the boys were a group Dugs. Anakin could only see four, but he somehow knew there were another two. Fear gripped him, but it seemed to give him focus.
They won't capture us – Kitster and I can fight back!
"We'll sell you two for more than the last lot", the orange coloured Dug restraining Anakin grunted in Huttese. "You're far younger…" he breathed down Anakin's neck.
Seizing his chance, Anakin thrashed his arms and legs, trying to escape. Kitster started too, and the rest of the Dugs assisted their gang in restraining them.
Kitster aimed a good kick to one of the Dugs, one with purple colouring, but the others swarmed on him, crushing him. Anakin was still fighting himself, but he could no longer see Kitster. The Dugs finally restrained Anakin again, then stepped back.
Kitster was lying on the desert floor, blood pouring from his nose. Bruises were already forming on his face, and he looked tiny crumpled there on the ground.
Kitster…no…NO!
The fear inside Anakin seemed to bubble into anger, and he started struggling again.
"That will teach you not to fight, unless you want to end up like your friend there." the Dug restraining him remarked.
The rest laughed hard, aiming more kicks at the small boy on the sand. Tears were forming in Anakin's eyes, and he momentarily stopped struggling. Instead, he shook with rage.
He's dead. I know he is. They KILLED him.
Anakin screamed, a high, piercing scream that made the Dugs cover their ears, letting go of him. Anakin pushed one Dug out of the way, but somehow all the others fell back too. Anger rippled through Anakin, and he felt stronger than he'd ever felt.
They won't hurt me or any of my friends again.
Anakin jumped onto the purple coloured Dug he'd seen kicking Kitster and started punching. Each blow seemed to set Anakin free, and he screamed with each hit. Tears were streaming down his face, stinging his eyes.
"Never. Hurt. My friends. Again." He yelled at the struggling Dug, articulating each sentence with a punch.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other Dugs getting away, but he didn't care. He punched and punched until the Dug in front of him was well and truly unconscious. Anakin felt as if he was floating, watching another boy punching the Dug from above.
A rustle sounded next to him. Pausing, he woke from his trance and turned to look at Kitster, who was stirring.
He...he's not…he's ALIVE.
Anakin stood up instantly and ran over to his friend, who he now saw was breathing, albeit quietly. Kitster tried to open his eyes, but they were swollen and bruised. He coughed before passing out again.
Feeling seemed to be returning to Anakin's body, and he stood up again. He recoiled in horror at the bloody, unconscious Dug on the ground a few metres away. It was then that Anakin noticed the blood on his knuckles.
I couldn't have…did I do that?
He was barely aware of what was happening. Anakin sat down again hard on the ground. The shaking had ceased, but he felt like he couldn't breathe.
I didn't mean to hurt him that badly…I was just so…afraid.
Panting, he crawled over to the Dug, and checked for a pulse. Like Kitster, the Dug was alive, but barely.
Anakin's tears were falling in earnest now. He tried to wipe his eyes, but only succeeded in wiping sand in them. The stinging made him feel better, more human again.
Anakin sat there crying for what seemed like a millennium until the suns set. He had fallen into a restless sleep when he and Kitster were found not long after. He woke every few minutes, still crying and feeling sick. He threw up twice on the way back into Mos Espa.
Anakin could give the address of both his master and Kitster's without problem, and they were taken first to Watto, then to Kitster's master. Someone carried him back home to his mother, and placed him on his bed.
"Will Kitster be ok?" Anakin asked his mother in a brief moment of consciousness.
"Yes Ani…he'll be perfectly alright in a few days" his mother replied.
Shmi sat over Anakin for most of the night, stroking his hair and trying to calm her still trembling son. By early morning, she had fallen asleep next to his bed.
Anakin had finally stopped crying a few hours before dawn. His eyes simply wouldn't produce anymore tears. He quietly got up and slowly drank his water ration, before falling back into bed.
Isn't it self-defense when someone fights to protect themselves and their friends? That's ok isn't it?
He tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep again.
It's not right to hurt slaves, just because they think we're defenseless.
After a while, his eyelids began to feel heavy.
They'll never hurt any slaves again.
Anakin finally drifted off to sleep. His dreams were muddy and confused, unable to form shape until he'd been asleep for a while. Just before dawn, Anakin dreamed he was older again, in his early 20s. He was dressed in brown robes, and held a bright blue laser sword. He walked amongst slaves, releasing their bonds and pointing to a ship for them to board.
Anakin approached the group of slaves at the end. Amongst them were his mother, Wald, Kitster, and his other friends. He released their bonds, beaming down at them. They all began to scream, running in the opposite direction of the ship.
"No, wait! I can help you. Please, I'm setting you free!" Anakin shouted after them.
He looked down in despair, and was confused. Gone were the brown robes. Instead, he wore a suit of black. He felt his way up his chest and settled on his face. Instead of soft flesh, all he could feel beneath his gloves was hard metal. His heart pounded, and the lights on his chest blinked. He tried to run after his friends, but he could barely move: he was trapped in armour, the armour of the masked man.
Anakin woke, screaming.