Disclaimer – Lucas owns the characters in this story. He's hidden them away somewhere dark and dusty whilst he's got his mind on episode2, so I snuck in and broke them out for a quick jaunt in the sunshine. I wish I was making money from them, but unfortunately it's all in the name of 'fun'.
Setting – Eight years post Episode Three.
Note: this is an old, old story which isn't the finest piece I've ever written! I'm only leaving it here for posterity. It was written before the release of AOTC - hence Owen and Beru's background is somewhat different to the canon explanation for their relationship to Luke.
ANAKIN AGAIN?
Episode Three - Realisation
Chapter One
Beru walked without being pushed, maintaining a modicum of dignity despite the cuffs. The troop led her to a large docking bay not far from the street they had captured her in. She followed without a word into the cold metal interior, lit by artificial lighting.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the Imperial shuttles parked inside. She did the arithmetic on how many troopers they could have carried and pushed the disturbing thought from her mind.
The real question was whether Vader had come down with them. If he had, they were completely lost.
Her hands itched in the restraints, the metal painfully hot from the Tatooine heat. They lead her forwards and she noticed that this was one of the few places on the planet still devoid of the invasive sand. A man appeared from one of the shuttles, walking slowly down the ramp-way to the permacrete floor. He was dressed in standard Imperial clothing – a major she thought from the markings on his chest.
Her breath came out in a sigh of relief. Obi-Wan had been right – Vader didn't want to go near Mos Espa.
Just stay hidden, Luke. Everything will be all right.
"Commander?" The Major's brows lifted at the sight of the farmer being brought before him. The stormtrooper stepped forward of the halted group and Beru watched the conversation between the Imperials. She tried to look completely confused and innocent. Everything would not be all right if they did a DNA test to check out her identity.
"Major, we've swept the city but we didn't find any signs of the slavers."
Slavers! Beru started. What slavers? Slavery was outlawed on Tatooine a few years ago.
The Major nodded his fox-like face, grey pallor showing the man was not used to sunshine. "They wouldn't be so obvious."
He turned to eye Beru and looked questionably at the trooper. "So who is this?"
Beru was going to step forward and protest her innocence but a trooper clamped a white-clad had around her bicep and held her back.
"A farmer. Claims her name is Soral, Beru Soral."
"You've brought me a farmer?" The major looked mildly annoyed. "Why?"
"She was acting suspiciously sir, hiding from us, agitated. She also claims to come from the old slave quarters." The stormtrooper was trying to explain himself.
Tell him not to be so stupid. Tell him to let me go!
But Beru didn't have any Force sensitivity. The Major turned to her, "Is that right? Slave quarters?" He walked towards her. "What's your business here, farmer?"
"I'm not a farmer. We went bust, had to move here."
The major looked unimpressed. Deep brown eyes looked her up and down. "Poor, living in slave quarters, and with brand new clothes?" He smiled wickedly. "I doubt that, don't you, hmmm?"
Great. She'd managed to fall in with the single intelligent Imperial on the planet.
"Everyone has to buy new clothes some time."
"Hmmm..."
She just stared at him as she saw his brain working. "You want to tell us where the slavers are holed up or would you prefer us to force it out?" He snapped a black glove over one hand and looked over at the troop commander.
"I don't know what you're talking about." She really didn't.
"Sure you don't, farmer." The second glove went on and he grabbed her by the jaw. She gritted her teeth against the pain as he squeezed. "So why were you hiding?"
She hissed between painful teeth, "Got...few...convictions"
His eyebrows shot up again. "Commander?"
"We haven't got anything on her. Neither have the locals."
He moved closer to her face and frowned. "That was a poorly thought-out lie."
Well it was all I could manage.
She said nothing.
"All right, lock her up in the local garrison and get some answers out of her."
He let go of her jaw and she shook her head angrily.
"I don't know anything!"
"We'll see."
---
"Come on kid, stop struggling."
The man had Luke by the hair and was dragging him down the cold, badly lit corridor. Luke was fighting back in pure reaction to the pain the other was causing to his hair roots. He clutched the man's hand with both his own and dug fingernails in, trying to get him to loosen the painful grip.
The man's anger erupted. He yanked Luke off the floor and Luke yelped in pain. "Stupid brat! Quit it unless you want a fist in your mouth."
The man was tall, dressed in dark padded clothing, a utility belt slung around his waist, blaster on his hip. The dark pointed beard almost covered a deep scar on the bottom of his cheek but not the snarl on his lips.
Luke subsided and the man put him back on his feet. He felt his legs begin to buckle under him but he kept standing to stop from annoying the man even more. The tight black top barely concealed strong muscles, and his jaw was firmly set in an expresion of annoyance Luke was used to seeing on his uncle's face.
Luke knew on instinct that this man was no farmer, though – he was a spacer, and a rough one too if the scars and the artillery were anything to go by. Luke walked fast to keep up with the man, still pulling on his hair. He had to grit his teeth to stop from attacking the man. He wouldn't stand a chance but this really hurt.
They reached the end of a grilled walkway and the man palmed the release panel the picked Luke up under the armpits. Luke yelped in surprise and the man laughed before tossing him onto a table in the centre of a small room. Three other occupants looked up in surprise as the boy fell onto all fours onto the table, furious.
"There you go. Four-foot-nothing of teeth, claws and obstinate boy."
Luke glared back at the man, who was leaning against the jamb of the closed door, smiling at him, arms crossed. He started to shoot something back but one of the other three humans in the room grabbed his jaw and spun his head around to face hers.
She shook his head back and forth before releasing it and Luke crawled backwards away from her.
"I don't recognise it. Where'd you pick it up?"
The woman had a hard face, not at all like his aunt. Her hair was pulled back in dark, glossy braids secured into a thick bun and her face was hard-set and heavy, eyes sparkling like green ryne stones in the dark of the room.
The man behind him shrugged, "Down in the old storage house, mucking around with some of the junk down there."
Another male grabbed him by the arm, his hand completely covering the boys small bicep. He looked critically at the blood staining Luke's trousers where he had fallen in the street and the scratches and bruises on his arms. "Where've you been, boy?"
Luke tried to shake his arm out of the others in defiance but all he got was a sharp pain in his shoulder. The man leaned closer, showing the deep red tattoo on his shaved head as he bent down. "I said, where have you been?"
---
The small boy didn't even blanch under Tate's gaze, and Jenn was impressed. Tate squeezed the boy's arm until the kid's face showed the pain. Jenn placed her elbows on the table and leaned in conspiratorially, "Better tell him, kid. We've been having something of a bad day and he could use a good, stubborn punch bag."
The boy fixed her with a crystal blue gaze, but he did cringe a little. "I was outside." He had a very soothing voice. She looked him up and down; small frame, but wiry. Quite good looking too – would probably fetch a price.
"How did you get there?" She leaned back in the chair and played with her nails, seeming as uninterested as possible. Saffa glanced at her in interest.
"What do you mean?"
She sighed wearily and pushed strands of blonde hair away, "I mean, how did you get out."
The boy shook his head, not understanding. "I...I...was running from the...ermm..."
"Go on." Tate squeezed harder and boy turned on him,
"Lay off! I'm telling you what I know, but I don't understand your question!" Tate was spitted by an intense glare and he loosed his grip a little.
Jenn was impressed. "Keep going kid."
"I was running. I hid down there. Then he turns up and drags me here." The boy shook bangs of blond hair from his eyes. "That's all I know." He added as Tate glared at him.
"Leave it, he's not one of ours."
"You so sure, Jenn?" Saffa looked severe in that dark bun.
"Yeah, accent's wrong. He's not from Mos Espa. And his clothes: they're new. None of the street kids we picked up were that well dressed."
The boy's eyes narrowed and he turned towards her before a hand clamped across his mouth. Interrogation over, the boy had to shut up.
"And he hasn't got the discipline of the others." Marr scowled at the little kid trying to wriggle free of his hand. "Little runt sure fights back."
Jenn nodded. "You're sure he was alone?"
"Yeah, no one's been down there in ages either."
"Well, stick him with the others on the transport then."
Tate sat back from the table. "We're gonna sell him too?"
"Why not?" she countered. "Can't let him go, and he might fetch some more credits in." Her eyes glinted. "And we all know how much you love credits."
He grinned. "All right, we got a new slave."
The boy squirmed furiously against Marr as he realised what they were discussing. "Stop fighting kid. You – Ow! The little runt bit me!" Marr backhand the boy to fall off the table and onto the floor.
Jenn smirked, "Quite a fiery little one, huh? He'll sell well."
---
Owen was worried. He leaned back against the sandstone wall surroundng the old slave quarters. This was probably the most unsavoury district of Mos Espa - and you really had to work to get that distinction. His brow was furrowed and he was scowling, an expression which would become familiar to him over the next few years.
Beru was in the detention centre. He'd paid a local snoop for the information and he trusted it. It troubled him – Beru could well be being interrogated. Or it could be worse; she could have been taken up to the Star Destroyer orbiting above them, and then they really would have been lost. Every so often, the white dagger could be seen in the sky above them, and it made Owen's stomach turn. And he had no idea where Luke had vanished to.
"Owen."
He looked up at the voice to see the Jedi Master walking towards him. His lightsaber glinted on his belt and the sun reflected in his eyes. The long cloak swept the sand on the street. "Any news?"
Obi-Wan Kenobi had a quiet strength about him that Owen envied in times like this. He hardly ever let his concern show. The face of the younger man Owen had known was still visible under greying beard, and the frown was the same as ever.
"Beru is in the garrison, detention level. I don't know where Luke is."
Obi-Wan nodded., "We should get Beru out first. If they question her-"
"Beru would never tell them anything," Owen said angrily.
"Not knowingly."
Owen tempered himself. He needed this man's help. "All right. What do we do?"
Obi-Wan leaned against the wall, the sunset throwing warm shades over his skin. "We have to be discreet. We don't want Vader's attention."
"What then?"
"I'll go in and get her out." Obi-Wan turned his face to the sunset, expression troubled.
"How? Mind tricks? I thought you said Vader would sense anything like that."
Obi-Wan nodded. "Only if I have too. He shouldn't notice a few simple manipulations."
"But you're not sure."
Obi-Wan just shrugged. Owen sighed. "All right."
"Owen Lars, are you agreeing with me?" There was a hint of laughter on the Jedi's lips and a smile flickering across his face.
"Kenobi, you-" He stopped, and glared. "You are so infuriating sometimes!"
The smile cracked into a full grin. "Go look for any sign of Luke, although I get the feeling you will not find him. I'll bring Beru back. Where are you staying?" Owen glowered but gave him the address. "Good, I'll take her there. Stay inconspicuous. "
Owen laughed, "Inconspicuous? Says the man with an ancient, instantly recognisable weapon on his belt."
Obi-Wan looked down at the saber. "Hmmm..." He unclipped it stuck it in a pocket. "Good point."
Chapter Two
Obi-Wan unclipped the robe from around his throat and whirled it off, stashing it behind a wall of storage lockers outside the detention block. He felt the old thrill of action come back to him after so many years, and was a little disturbed byhow good it felt. He was so tempted to let the Force wash over him; he was parched for it. But he couldn't, Vader was a bare few kilometres above them, aboard the Star Destroyer, and the last thing Obi-Wan wanted was for his wayward apprentice to come charging down here. He had to protect Luke.
Eight years in hermitage to protect the boy. Ever the silent, invisible guardian, looking over the child as he grew. Obi-Wan had only caught glimpses of him until this debacle had reared its ugly head. He was relieved that the child was not quite the double to his father. Where Anakin's eyes had been filled with lust for freedom at around Luke's age, Luke's were filled only with kindness and compassion, and it had heartened the Jedi Master to see it in the boy at the Lar's homestead. Physically, they were so similar. Mentally...
Obi-Wan crept to the detention block. It was a neglected building, dilapidated - shouldn't be too hard for a Jedi Master to break into. Even a Jedi Master who couldn't use the Force.
He didn't have any weapons on him. That could be a problem. The old-style Jedi clothing did hold a utility belt around his waist, though. He went to the back of the building and looked up at the rough sides. He wanted to reach out to Beru, but knew he couldn't. He'd have to get in and do it the old-fashioned way.
Mos Espa brought back a lot of painful memories for him, memories he had to push to the background now to get Beru out.
His hand grasped the heavy, cracked stonework and he pulled himself up to the first window there. He looked around to make sure no one was around, snatched the saber from a pocket and quickly cut the durasteel bars. A lightsaber cut would look suspicious, but that could easily have been from a welder's laser cutter. The bars fell with a silent thud to the sandy ground and Obi-Wan pocketed the saber again. Even in the dusk, he could see that there was no one around to notice his break-in. That was pretty lax.
He pulled himself through the window and landed on the permacrete floor silently, crouched, ready for attack.
Nothing. There was no one around, only an empty cell, door open and unlocked.
He stood, straightened the tunic around him and walked silently to the door.
Obi-Wan didn't like this forced separation from the Force, but he knew that a Jedi didn't stop being a Jedi even when they were without that connection. Being a Jedi was as much about a discipline of mind, and competence in combat, as it was about midichlorian count. Probably more so, in fact.
Owen had never let him do a midichlorian count on Luke. That was probably a good thing. He crept into a silent corridor. There were no guards, no one to stop him. Either they were really negligent or something else had called them away.
He crept through the hot building, no air conditioning in the prisoner levels. No point keeping them comfortable. He looked through the transparisteel slats on each door, looking for his friend.
Not that Owen would ever approve of a friendship with Obi-Wan. He blamed him almost entirely for Anakin's fall. Obi-Wan tried no to think about that now. After eight years of meditation, he still didn't know who to blame.
Next floor, same story – no guards. He found the cell mid-way down; Beru sat on the steel pallet, head in her hands. She looked tired and frustrated, but she didn't look like she'd been interrogated yet. Good.
He took the encrypt card from a pouch and slid it over the door lock. A quiet beep and it slid away into the wall. Beru looked up fearfully, then her eyes widened in shock as she recognised Kenobi.
She stood suddenly. "What?"
"Shhsh, there doesn't seem to be any guards at the moment, but we have to move quickly," he said.
She nodded and moved next to him. "They've got some major operation going on here, Obi-Wan."
He frowned at her in the dusk lighting filtering through from the barred window. "What do you mean?"
She took her hand in his own and leaned in, "I've been thinking about the stuff they were asking me when they grabbed me. I think they think there's some sort of underground slavery racket going on here. They thought I was a part of it."
Obi-Wan stared at her a moment then swore lightly. "That's why Vader is here!"
Beru nodded eagerly. "It's nothing to do with us – he never could stand slavery. He came along to help quash it."
Obi-Wan looked down at her kindly, resisting the urge to tell her it was Anakin who had been the slave, not Vader. But under the circumstances, it didn't seem to matter. Anakin's hatred of slavery had obviously been passed on to Vader.
"Have they asked you any questions yet?"
She shook her head, "Yes, but when it was obvious I didn't know anything, they left me alone. Don't worry, I never mentioned Luke," she added, knowing the real reason Obi-Wan was asking. "Have you got him?"
"No, Beru. Not yet, anyway."
Her face fell, then she nodded. "You had to get me first, in case they tried drugs."
"Yes." He spared the time to embrace her briefly. "Come on, we have to get out of here."
---
Luke was annoyed, frustrated, confused and in pain. They had stuck restraints around his arms after Luke's last attempt to claw his way free. They were just a strip of plastic, ridged so they would tighten around his wrists in one direction and not the other, the kind of thing used for securing packaging. Pretty simple, and pretty effective as cuffs, too.
The dark-clad spacer – Marr – shoved him in front of him, grumbling at the boy. Luke wasn't going quietly. He had shouted and screamed at them until they had slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth. Now he fumed in silence, furious at himself for allowing them to do this to him, wondering if his aunt and uncle had idea what had happened to him.
Those troopers probably got them, anyway.
They walked into a docking bay, and Luke gaped at the large transport sat on the permacrete, dirty and poorly kept. He struggled futilely against the restraints and earned himself another shove in the back.
"Stow it, kid."
He stumbled forwards up the ramp, Marr following him and ducking his head as he entered the brightly lit corridor. A hand on Luke's shoulder guided him to the right and he winced where the man touched a tender bruise, the result of being shoved onto the floor after he had bit the wretched spacer. Slaver.
Luke felt panic boil up inside himself at the thought. He had to escape!
They reached a door and Marr palmed it open. Before Luke knew what hit him, he was flying down a small flight of steps to land on the deck of the ship's hold. He squirmed around onto his back and glowered up at Marr, screaming through the gag exactly what he thought of the slaver. He got his legs under his and rushed him, barrelling into his legs with a grunt of pain. The slaver was a solid block muscle and he hauled Luke off his feet, snarling.
"Don't ask me why we're even bothering to try to sell a runt like you. I'd just as soon space you, and you give me one more reason and Jenn can go hang - I'll take great pleasure in ripping those claws from your hand, one by one."
Luke squirmed in fear and Marr threw him back down. He landed on his face and couldn't use his restrained hands to get back to his knees as the door shut behind him and locked. He swore with some of Uncle Owen's more vicious phrases, though he had no idea what they meant - he just knew hey made him feel a little better. He rolled onto his side.
Two dozen scared eyes blinked back at him. Luke looked around him for the first time and saw a bunch of terrified, subdued kids sat huddled on the deck with him.
They were pretty much his age and none of them said a word as he stared at them. They were absolutely petrified, but none were tied up like Luke. He blinked back at his fellow captives, then called out for someone to get the gag off him. His hands were behind his back, making it impossible for him to do it himself.
Nobody moved.
"Come on! Wake up!" Luke shouted, but it was incomprehensible. They just looked more scared and Luke lay back on the cold deck, cursing them now.
He sucked in air through his nose, and the thought occurred to him that maybe they had been shown reason to be so subdued. The thought filled him with a cold dread that made his skin crawl.