The next day she wasn't surprised when he came late, and waited to sit with her. "I've got something to show you." She was antsy with anticipation, but she made him sit and eat first, bolting down her own food as quickly as she could. The dining hall was close to empty when they had finished. They stacked their bowls with all the rest of the dirty dishes, which it would soon be Shmi's task to wash, but she kept the cup that held the last bit of her meager water ration for the day.
She led him to the kitchen, checking carefully to make sure they were not observed, then out the door in the back that led outside. It opened into a walled courtyard that housed the garbage pile, where all the kitchen waste was dumped to rot and desiccate under the baking light of the twin suns. There, in the far corner, she had planted the little flower.
He knelt beside her as she carefully poured the last few drops from her cup at its base. It was a bit wilted still, and she studied it, worried. "Do you think it will make it?"
"I think it might." She turned, to find him looking not at the flower, but at her, his warm smile lighting his eyes. She looked away quickly, but an answering warmth kindled in her belly and washed throughout her body until it tingled in her toes and fingertips. Greatly daring, she turned back, and smiled hesitantly in return for a moment, their eyes meeting. Then she scrambled to her feet and darted for the kitchen door. "Come on, we can't let them catch you out here. I've got to get started on the dishes."
It became their custom, in the days that followed, to eat together, and to slip out afterwards to water the flower. Its roots took hold and its stem perked up, and though it dropped a few leaves, by the time a month had passed it was obvious it would survive and thrive. Shmi gradually became more comfortable in Kern's company. They talked, at first of superficial things, the gossip of the slave quarters, the challenges and successes of their work. But over the days and weeks they slowly began to share more personal subjects.
"I can just remember when it happened. I was four, I think. We had traveled for vacation to another planet, and were returning home. The pirates boarded the ship and took all the passengers prisoner. Those that had wealthy friends or relatives were ransomed, and the rest of us were brought here to Tatooine and sold into slavery. I was kept with my mother for a few years, until I was seven or eight, I think, but then I was old enough to do a full day's work, and our owner didn't need us both, so I was sold." She stared down into her bowl of stew, remembering how she'd screamed and kicked and bit when they dragged her away, the silent tears running down her mother's face, the endless nights of hopeless weeping. She couldn't tell him that part, not yet. She wondered if she ever would. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her.
"I was born a slave." His voice was soft, reflective. "My mother was owned by a rich merchant in Mos Eisley. He had a wife, and grown children, but he used her for a bedmate sometimes. He sired me. He favored me because of it, and saw to it that I was educated. When I showed mechanical aptitude, he had me trained at the best shop in Mos Eisley. When I was sixteen Jabba made him an offer for me, and he accepted. I think he meant well; Jabba is the most wealthy and powerful being on Tatooine. He knew I would have status and respect. But he couldn't understand that none of that really mattered. Not if I would always be a slave." The bitterness was in his voice, and the weary lines on his face. She didn't see them often, but every now and then he would allow them to show. She laid her hand over his, giving what comfort she could.
Once he brought a ragged deck of handmade cards, and started teaching her to play sabaac. She protested her ignorance, and early on made every classic beginner's mistake, until the pile of the pebbles they wagered for grew tall in front of him. But gradually she gained skill and began to win a hand or two. She enjoyed their games, though he told her the two-person version they played was a pale reflection of the true game. "You can't really say you know sabaac until you've played with a seven through a full hundred and three rounds. It's just not the same with less. Ketrell and his gang of Gamorreans – they're guards, they spend most of their time when they're not on patrol huddled around their cards in a corner of the garage – they'd laugh at our pitiful little twosome."
Shmi rifled the cards thoughtfully. Perhaps… "Do you mind if I take these with me? I might be able to get some of the other women to play with me."
"Go ahead. Just bring them with you tomorrow. I still need to show you how to build a six-card orbit."
That night, in the common room, Shmi looked nervously around from her place on a bench near the door. The women had split up into their various groups, as usual. On the far side of the room tinny music projected from an ancient recording device, the prized possession of the most favored group of slaves, the dancers and other personal and ornamental slaves who had the privilege of service in Jabba's own presence. Marishelle, the tall, black haired dancer, was showing some of the other girls a new move she was perfecting. They offered her fawning flattery and begged her to teach them how to do it. A green-skinned Twi'lek frowned in concentration as she painted intricate designs on her lekku, and several women of various species were giving each other massages. Shmi looked away. None of them would ever dream of socializing with the likes of her.
A cluster of comfortable chairs held the next highest-status group of slaves, the skilled workers and those in positions of authority over other slaves. The women who worked in Jabba's own kitchen, preparing the fine cuisine he demanded, were there, along with a few mechanics from the garage, the head seamstress, and the leader of the cleaning crew. They leaned close together in earnest conversation. Shmi shook her head. She would have no luck trying to recruit players for her game among them either.
She turned her attention to the largest group of women, to which she was loosely attached. They clustered, chatting, on the chairs and benches around her, the common workers of kitchen, laundry, sewing room, cleaning crew, and all the other myriad tasks required to keep the huge compound running smoothly. Friendships and alliances among these women were constantly shifting. Their numbers were always changing, as slaves were bought and sold, so the politics of status, of inclusion and exclusion, were never far from the surface. Shmi had never been owned by one of the big compounds before. She had been mostly isolated from the company of other woman since she was eight years old. So she did not understand how the game was played, or how to find a place for herself within it. She only knew that since her first day there, when she had unwittingly alienated Darna, she had been relegated to the edges of the circle, barely tolerated or rejected outright, along with a handful of other outcasts. Darna was always near the center of the swirling spirals of relationships. Shmi had watched her carefully since that first day, and come to realize that beneath her friendly, folksy exterior Darna possessed a cunning intellect and a ruthless ambition. If Darna targeted you as an enemy, you were shunned as thoroughly as the poor alien girl whose mouthparts could not form Basic as anything but a meaningless mumble, or the woman that a too-severe beating had left with wandering wits and a vacant stare, or the two old women who scrubbed out the refreshers and always carried the reek of their duty with them.
But there were a few Shmi thought might be open to a friendly overture. There was a new girl who seemed just as bewildered as Shmi by the intricacies of rank and position. Another who always held herself a bit aloof from it all, seeming to consider it beneath her. One who was just inherently sweet natured, incapable of coldness to anyone. A few more. Shmi located them in the crowd, eyeing them nervously as she dealt out the starting position of a solitaire game on the bench beside her. As she worked her way through the deck, placing each card as best she could, she pondered the best way to approach them.
Birnette, the new girl, drifted over to watch Shmi play. Shmi had just come to the conclusion that the solitaire configuration was one she had no hope of winning, so she gathered up the cards and smiled shyly at Birnette. "I know a game two can play. Would you like to join me?"
Birnette looked around worriedly, then shrugged and seated herself next to Shmi. "I guess."
Shmi pulled out a handful of hairpins from her apron pocket to use for wagering and started to explain the rules of sabaac to Birnette. Before long several others had gathered around them. Shmi included them in her instruction, passing out hairpins and cards.
As the game gathered momentum and the players' voices grew more animated, Shmi felt a warm glow building inside her. It was working!
She gathered the cards at the end of the hand and shuffled them. As she dealt them around the circle, Paulia, the kind-hearted one, smiled at her, warm but a touch uncertain. "You know, Shmi, you seem much nicer than I've always heard."
Shmi paused and looked at her, a chill washing through her body.
Paulia blushed. "Not that I ever believed all those ugly things they were saying about you.
"Ugly things?" Shmi felt a flush creeping across her face, not sure if it was shame or anger, or a mix of the two. "Like what?"
"Like… um… well…" Her stammering trailed away. "I mean, they were all obviously lies. Look, forget I said anything." Paulia made a show of studying her cards. "Let's just play."
Shmi nodded, and the bidding went around the circle, but the comfortable camaraderie that had been forming was spoiled. When that hand was over, each of the other women found some pretense to excuse herself, and Shmi was left sitting alone, with the deck of cards in her hands. Defiantly, she shuffled and dealt out a game of solitaire again, but halfway through had to quit, tears blurring her eyes so the markings on the cards swam and ran beyond recognition. She gathered them up and fled to her alcove. As she left the common room she noticed Darna watching her from across the room, a hard look of satisfaction on her face.
The next day she pressed the cards back into Kern's hand. "No one wanted to play."
"No?" He sounded disappointed, and a bit surprised. "That's too bad." He studied her, and Shmi turned away so he wouldn't see the brightness in her eyes, or how hard she was biting her lower lip so it wouldn't tremble. "Did something happen?"
"No." It was none of his business how the other women felt about her. But his concern was so genuine she felt she had to offer some explanation. "It's just… I'm not very popular with the other girls. None of them like me much."
Kern made a disapproving noise. "They're just a silly flock of loofie birds, then."
Picturing Darna as one of the round, clumsy birds that clustered at the edge of Tatooine's cities, pecking at scraps, brought a wan smile to Shmi's face. Encouraged, Kern flapped his elbows like wings and did a credible impression of a loofie's shrill screech, which reduced Shmi to a puddle of giggles. Kern dissolved into laughter with her.
"There, that's better," he said, when they had quieted. "If they don't want to get to know you, that's their loss. You're just about the most likeable person I know."
"Really?" Shmi blushed, flattered.
"Really. I feel lucky to have you for a friend."
"Not nearly as lucky as I am to have you for a friend." His words filled Shmi with a warm glow. She was indeed lucky. She did her best to ignore the little pang of disappointment that stole around the edges of her happiness. Was a friend all he would ever consider her?
She had much cause to be grateful for his friendship, and the brief time they were able to spend together each day, in the following weeks. The other women had grown even colder and more distant with her. She gave up even trying to interact with them, retreating to the solitude of her alcove each evening.
After a while though, the ache of her isolation grew too miserable to bear, and she resolved to try once more to fit in. This time she decided to go straight to the source of the problem.
It was difficult to catch Darna alone, because usually she was surrounded by a group of whichever women were in her favor at the moment. But one evening Shmi managed to stop her in the corridor as she headed toward the common room from the refresher. "Darna, could I talk to you?"
Darna regarded her with a lazy smile, crossing her arms above the now prominent swell of her belly. "What do you want?"
"I… I think we got off to a bad start, when I first came here. I was rude and insulted you, and I just wanted to apologize."
"It took you long enough." Darna's voice was flat.
"Yes." Shmi squirmed beneath Darna's bright green gaze. "Well, that's all I had to say, really. That I'm sorry. And… some of the other girls seem to have heard things about me that aren't true, and I was hoping you could help me stop the rumors."
"Hmmm… I hope you're not suggesting that I started any of these rumors, are you?" Darna smiled, sugar-sweet.
Shmi hated the way Darna was forcing her to lie. She knew very well the red-haired woman was the source of the slander. But she made her voice as conciliatory as she could. "Of course not. But all the girls look up to you, respect you, so I'm sure they would believe you if you said they were mistaken."
Darna cocked her head appraisingly at Shmi. "I might be able to help you. But if I do, I think it's only fair that you do something to help me."
Shmi felt dirty, groveling for Darna's favor this way, but if that's what it took… "I could bring you extra food."
Yawning, Darna looked off toward the common room door. "Food's good. But you're asking me for quite a favor, you know. I would think you'd be willing to offer more in return."
Darna had her right where she wanted her, Shmi realized, begging to be restored to her good graces. She could see the pleasure the other woman took in her humiliation. "I could give you some of my water ration, or some of my turns in the shower. Really I don't have very much."
"You're friends with Kern Bluesand, aren't you?"
Shmi stared at her, startled and confused.
Darna stroked the curve of her belly possessively. "I'll be going to Rinadda's pretty soon. When I get back – if Jabba buys me again – you could introduce me to him. I've taken a bit of a fancy to him lately. He is one of the most handsome men here."
Shmi shook her head, trying to find her voice. "Kern wouldn't… I couldn't…"
Darna cocked one eyebrow at her, smiling sweetly. Her voice was almost a purr. "It's your choice, dear. You give me a chance with Kern, and you'll be amazed how popular you suddenly become. You could even have him back, after I'm done with him. Friends share with each other, after all. If you want to be my friend, you'll share with me."
She wasn't a loofie bird at all, Shmi suddenly understood. She was the clawcat stalking the loofie, anticipating a mouthful of warm meat and feathers. It amused her to play with her prey, driving it one way and then the other, until it ran to impale itself on her talons.
Well, Shmi wouldn't fall into that trap. She trembled, knowing she would forfeit all hope of ever being accepted by the other women by refusing Darna's demands, but the memory of Kern's warm affection fortified her against Darna's false sweetness. "No."
For a moment Darna's eyes narrowed, but then she assumed again an air of nonchalance. "Are you sure?"
Shmi wavered. Darna might never come back to Jabba's compound. Even if she did, Shmi would surely be justified in reneging on an extorted bargain. An empty promise now, and she could enjoy the benefits of Darna's influence in her favor, knowing she would never actually have to pay the price.
But she found she could not do it. Her friendship with Kern was the one good, real, sacred thing in her life, and she could not bear to sully it so. "Very sure."
Darna shrugged. "If that's what you want. It would be a shame, though, if more of those ugly rumors got started. I wouldn't be able to do anything to stop them."
"No." Shmi's mouth was dry. "I don't suppose you would."
She pressed herself against the wall of the corridor as Darna swept by, clenching her fists to contain her rage, fuming inside. She despised Darna with an intensity the like of which she had only ever before felt toward the pirates who had sold her into slavery.
The next week she lurked in the corner of the common room watching the other women cluster around Darna, making a show of tearful good-byes and earnest wishes of good luck. News had come that Darna and her impending offspring had been sold to Rinadda the Hutt, and would depart the next day. The hypocrisy of the maudlin scene turned Shmi's stomach, but she could almost have joined in with those proclaiming their desire that Darna's journey be quick and easy, just for the relief she felt that Darna would be gone. With any luck, she would be sold to some owner far away from Jabba's compound, and Shmi would never have to face her malice again.