Chapter 6
Son Of Skywalker, Always A Slave.
There was a mild mannered discussion happening among the travelling Council members, which in Jedi-speak meant most vigorous and intense. Tensions, if they dare be labelled such, are almost running high.
"It was a spontaneous choice-"
"Not spontaneous enough," Windu said drily.
"Adi Gallia's information was compromised. We were compromised. How else would the Sith be lying in wait?"
"Why would Sidious send his apprentice, clearly overwhelmed, to such confrontation?"
"It's suicide."
"He's a Sith Lord-"
"Makes him an idiot, does it?"
"No, but he may simply have had no use of the apprentice any longer."
"Maybe, to send a message. Maybe to say hello to an old friend."
"Mace," Gallia warned. A bright blue hologram of Kenobi materialised, perfectly timed. The ship fell silent in wait.
"Masters. Anakin and myself are on ship to Coruscant."
"Where is Qui-Gon?"
"He has stayed to investigate further disturbance, and deal with the... remains. The Force settled after the Sith was handled. It is certain. The apprentice came alone. All marks of the Sith shall be wiped from the surface of Tatooine by Master Jin."
"It's troubling that such a power vacuum has opened in the Outer Rim."
"The Hutts will not trouble themselves to fill it," Said a grim voice from somewhere off holo. "Despicable." Obi-Wan cleared his throat. Anakin's grumbling was momentarily ignored.
"And Coruscant?"
"Curiously, the Temple remains the same. We have contacted the remaining Masters with no complication. The Force remains quiet."
"It does not seem to be a larger diversion, then," Obi-Wan let the thin line of his pursed lips relax.
"But we can never be sure- if not on Coruscant, then perhaps elsewhere?"
"Fast flight, lucky we are."
"We'll find ourselves only a day's light travel behind you, hopefully."
"We will reconvene in the Temple. It seems, temporarily, safe." Anakin Skywalker stepped into view, his hologram flickering with fidgeting, aborted movements. He rubbed his forehead intermittently, wincing.
"Tatooine seemed safe," he added. "Did it not?"
Silent, grim agreement met him.
Sometime later, back on Tatooine, a boy is waking up.
Luke's head ached. Like someone's had squished it hard between metal plates. His mouth was drier than it had been before the race, when he was so nervously excited.
The race... where was he? Did he get hurt in the podrace? Oh stars, Fixer... Uncle Owen... they'll kill him!
"Get up, blue eyes," Luke whipped his head around and regretted it immediately. His vision swam and his head throbbed in protest. The raspy voice came from somewhere in the darkness. It was hot in here, but a wet sort of heat. It wasn't at all like Tatooine, Luke thought. It was stifling, he could barely breathe. He squinted and tried pinpoint the voice. He thought it came from... over there... it seemed like it... "Up, boy. Stand up!" It barked at him.
He pressed a shaky hand to the... sandy... floor... and he wobbled to his feet. He felt very ill, like he would fall over again very soon.
The sound of clanging metal exploded in front of him, and he winced. That did not help the headache. He blinked hard and then rubbed one grimy hand over them. There was indeed metal in front of him. Sort of like poles, or like bars. Like... a cage. A cell?
He didn't even know Tatooine had cells. No policing to require them.
"Blondie, eyes up 'ere!" Luke jerked his head up. A bulky man, very much human it seemed, was standing on the other side of the bars with an inscrutable expression. The door was open! He noticed finally, and made to move through it. The guy must've unlocked it. He was standing, shaking like a sandstorm was breaking down upon him. Stumbling forward the man caught him by his shoulder, just a smidge too tight.
"T-thanks," Luke said throatily. He hadn't drank anything in a while. It hurt. How long had he been here? Where is here?
...who was this man... he last remembered... being... hit...
"Wouldn't y'know, grateful little thing are ya?" The stranger yanked him forward suddenly and Luke wasn't fast enough to catch himself. He fell, hands grasping again at sand and sandstone. The door to his weird little prison clanged loudly shut again, and is eyes had adjusted to the dank darkness enough to see some others in the narrow hall. There were many other cells it seemed- some full with all sorts of life forms. Some women and a Rodian stood behind the man that had brought Luke out.
He had the feeling they weren't going to be much help.
Luke felt something sticky in his hair, and it hurt to touch. He rubbed a hand over his cheek to wipe off the blood, but the smell was something hard to ignore once it was noticed. The hard saber was digging into his ribs (it was still there!), and he groaned in protest as a boot nudged him over. It was less of a nudge and more of a kick.
His tunic was no perfect fit, loose and good for hiding things. But unfortunately this meant as he was turned over, the misplaced lightsaber had no trouble peeking out. A rough hand tore the cloth away with ease, exposing the rare weapon.
"Woah ho ho," he jeered. "Should've shook down the young'uns for weapons too."
"What's tha', Dan?"
"Good question," he said while Luke fought the waves of dizziness. He just wanted to go home. He would even promise never to race again if he could... "What's this, little boy?" The lightsaber was clenched in the guy's meaty fist. "What're you- some kind of Jedi?" This earned a round of raucous laughter from the others, even some of the locked up sort. He supposed there wasn't much for entertainment in this weird place.
"No," Luke said plainly, his voice cracking. "No, I'm not."
"What'da do, kid?" The guy circled closer. "You steal it? You pry this off a body, boy?" Luke paled, and tried to dryly swallow his fear. "Little thief 'ere." While the man, who Luke figured was some sort of prison guard, was fingering the blade's sheath, the Rodian stepped forward to bring Luke up to his knees. He had his hands twisted violently behind his back and coarse rope rawed his skin as it was wrapped around his wrists.
He was no threat to these people and he hadn't done anything wrong! They didn't need to do all this.
But Luke had the feeling they were enjoying it. His stomach felt sick, but he was starting to think these people wanted to hurt me. They meant to be mean.
"Last of the children, 'cept the cleaners," the Rodian was saying. The man snapped his head up.
"Hm, yeah. Kist, check this out. I think it's for real." He threw the lightsaber at the Rodian, but it missed- and unfortunately Luke's hands were still bound. It slammed him in the face. Unbidden, tears sprung up. His eye and cheek smarted at the burst of pain. His headache reminded him it was there with a dull throb. Luke was feeling very hopeless at the moment. The guard guy picked up the saber again and gingerly put it inside his jacket.
"Nevermind then," he snorted. "Kid don't shit yourself, it was barely a tap. And Kist, learn to catch. Goddamn pathetic."
"Learn to throw," the Rodian, probably Kist, chuckled. "Kriff, he's nearly crying. Ahhh Dan, he's going to be in for it, huh?"
"Alright, let's wrap this up. Bring him to the front room," the guard snapped at woman with the limp brown hair. She looked very tired and yet grabbed Luke's arm with surprising strength. "Little blond boy got a pretty face. Jabba might even keep the kid." He leaned down to Luke, hands on his thighs, with a smile. "We could be seeing each other a lot more, blondie." The little Skywalker scowled but the guy just laughed as the woman began to pull him- practically out of his arm socket.
Oh.
Oh no, Luke thought.
Slavers.
I am a Skywalker, and I am free. Luke thought to himself. I am a Skywalker, and I am free. I am a freeborn Skywalker. I am free.
The shallow hallway turned into ragged steps and the steps opened up to a cavernous, odd smelling room.
Luke tried to swallow again, nearly choking.
I am freeborn. Around this room milled humans and aliens of all types... in various states of undress. It was unsettling. Luke had never seen such things.
I am freeborn. I am free. A large, hulking shape was melded to a throne-like spot in the centre. It was yellowish, puke-ish green. Jabba was as monstrous and horrifying as the children's tales but worse because now- now he was real! And with each stumbling yank of his arm by the slave woman, Luke was closer and closer to the vision of his nightmares. He was gesticulating wildly and cussing in Huttese to a couple of life forms. One was bowing their head repeatedly as the Hutt swelled with more and more rage.
He knew it was rage. He shuddered.
I'm free. I'm a Skywalker, freeborn. Luke hung his head, wanting to see nothing other than the floor.
I am free. Please, I am free. I am a Skywalker...
I don't feel very free.
But Luke was not thrown to Jabba's dias as he had feared- and was dragged off to one of the shadowy corners instead. He tried his best to avert his eyes from the dazed and delirious guests of the Hutt. It was hard. Now the reek of his own blood was no longer the overpowering smell, and he kind of wished it was. It smelled instead of sweat and grime. It smelled really, really worse than blood.
"Small human boy. Blond, blue eyes."
"Ah, good," a cheerful Twi'lek said. "Humans are very popular, aren't they? We'll see what the court thinks, or if we're going external. He's a bit short, isn't he?" The Twi'lek made a considerate sound, and pulled Luke's chin up.
"Young, they grow quite a bit more."
He refused to make eye contact.
I don't feel very free.