Chapter 1: In the Slaver's Hold

Obi-wan's feet dragged along the halls of the slave ship. Her blurred vision and the lack of the Force made everything swirl. The layout confused her, hallways branching off in places that would generally make sense but simply compounded the lack of control she felt. She had no idea where she was. The fight from earlier when the slavers first brought out the force suppressant collar had left her in this sorry state. Still, with each passing moment, everything started to come into focus.

The hallway was dark for the most part, with small strips of light shining from the lamps that lined the hallway in intervals. They illuminated a grim scene. Rows of empty cages lined the walls, and mystery stains littered every visible surface. She tried not to think of how they got there or what they were.

Shifting her focus ahead, she could see a slaver in front of her. He had a datapad in one hand, a detonator in the other, an electro whip curled on his hip. He was a near-human with dark skin and a shaved head. If it wasn't for the cruelty in the way, he walked she would say he reminded her of Mace. There were two other slavers on either side of her, gripping her arms as she continued to lay limp between them.

"Do you really think she'll be worth all the trouble" Lefty muttered?

"I don't know, but Boss said she was Force-sensitive. And you know how the Hutts love them in gladiatorial arenas." "We should make a pretty credit off of her hide."

Her heart leapt into her throat. No, that's not going to happen.

She struck quickly and hard. Planting her feet, she ripped her arm from Lefty's grip. Obi-wan then used her momentum to pull Righty forward and down. She front kicked him in the shoulder, aim slightly off, but it still sent him sliding face-first into one of the cages that lined the corridor. Flipping her focus back to Lefty, she seized his arm, wrapping hers around it, and gripped the hair at the back of his head. Just in time to feel the lash of an electro whip on her back.

She glanced over and saw the slaver she assumed was the Boss, if not the captain, had discarded the datapad to bring his whip to bear. She grimaced and fought through the pain. Whirling Lefty between herself and Boss, she strode forward. Until she felt a current of electricity shoot through her.

Right the collar, she thought, dazed as she dropped to the floor. Shouldn't have been so hasty.

"Karking bitch" Righty growled, wiping his bleeding nose.

"Get her up," ordered the Boss. "Be quick about it."

"Yes, sir," stammered Lefty, still shell shocked that she'd moved so quickly. "Didn't think she had that in her. She's so tiny," he muttered indignantly.

Obi-wan groaned and felt them grip the collar of her shirt. As they dragged her the last ten feet to the open cell, and she was unceremoniously dumped in. The sound of the door slamming shut was followed by the echo of the slavers' feet as they walked away.

Jango had heard the commotion down the hall and shrank back into the shadows of his cell. He'd learned it was better to go unnoticed than to draw unwanted attention from any slaver. No matter if they seemed stupid, kind, or cruel.

He found himself wishing for his cellmate back. The older woman, Odette, who had been sold at the last stop, had told him many stories in the month-long journey from Concordia. Her soothing voice had been a balm for his runi (soul). This was especially true in the long dark hours in the hold and in the mines before that.

The backbreaking labor of breaking stone looking for beskar ore had fostered a sense of togetherness, if not family. Her loss left Jango feeling hollow. This, along with the knowledge that he was helpless, was difficult to take. All he could do was give her the carved japor snippet he made for her in thanks for the wisdom and companionship she had offered.

He wondered if he was doomed to lose everyone he cared about. First his Buir'e and Arla, then Jas'buir and his friends in the Haat'ade, now Odette was gone. He felt cursed, and the empty hold felt colder than ever before.

The group of four that rounded the corner towards the cells yanked him out of his pitying thoughts.
Captain Sav Drek led two members of his 18-man slaver crew, Shasta and Corton, with their newest buy towards the cells. She looked half-dead with blood drying in her hair as she was dragged along. He craned his neck, trying to get a look at her when all Haran (hell, destruction, cosmic annihilation) broke loose.

"I don't know, but the Boss said she was Force-sensitive. And you know how the Hutts love them in gladiatorial arenas." "We should make a pretty credit off of her hide," Corton muttered over the girl's head towards Shasta. That was when she struck.

He had to admit she was pretty good. Even hurt and collared, she managed to break Corton's nose. He smiled when he heard the crunch. That shabuir (extreme insult, jerk but stronger) deserved it. He was one to creep on the slaves he found pretty. Gender or species didn't matter to him; so long as they had fire and beauty, he desired them.

That thought made his smirk slide off his face. The girl did herself no favors making herself a target like that.

Maybe if they had still been in port, her fight could have been worth it, but they were already in hyperspace. He waited until they shoved her in the cell across from his and sauntered away to speak.

"That wasn't very well thought out," a voice rang out from across from her. All the other cells had been empty. She hadn't noticed this one had an occupant.

"Yes, but I had to try. I'd be ashamed if I didn't make them work for it," Obi-wan replied tartly.

The man she noticed had a collar around his throat and fresh bruises that ran up his right arm and the side of his face disappearing under his hairline. The bruises shaped like fists covered his body. They looked almost as if he had been curled around someone and was beaten for it.

"Who was it you were beaten for" she inquired.

The man's eyes darkened. He glanced away with a frown. "Doesn't matter. They took her away anyway."

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me. I shouldn't have asked." She stuttered, mentally cursing her ability to put her foot in her mouth. After an awkward pause, she quickly forced out a rushed introduction, "I'm Ben, by the way."

"Jango," he replied with a small, crooked smile. The sight made something flutter in Obi-wan's gut.
They reached through the bars to shake hands. They couldn't quite meet in the middle. A gap of about three inches separated their fingers. They both grinned sheepishly and retracted their arms.

They were stopped from carrying on by the approaching sound of footsteps. When a slaver she hadn't seen yet stepped into view. He had a glint in his eye Obi-wan didn't like.

"Food time maggots," the Rodian said, tossing a pack of nutrient paste in either cage. Leering towards Obi-wan, he growled, "So, you're the pretty little thing that broke our Corton's nose. Huh, you're almost too pretty for the gladiatorial arena." "Maybe Captain Drek will let us keep you, or at least have a sampling before we sell your hide."

"I don't think you could handle me, my dear," she snarked back with narrowed eyes, lips slightly curled in a snarl. "If you try, you'll lose certain parts of yourself you'd rather keep."

The slaver had the nerve to throw his head back and laugh. "See this?" he held up a remote. "I press one button, and you ride the lightning. Now tell me again that I can't handle you." "Enjoy your slop, maggots." With a wave, he turned on heel, still chuckling as he went down the hall as if she had uttered a particularly funny joke and not a threat.

When he was out of sight, the façade dropped, and she glanced back at Jango.

"Dank farrick," he uttered, "Can you not put more of a target on your back?!"

"What else do you want me to do? I'm not going to roll over when they threaten me like that"

"Ben, they view your resistance as a challenge. They like it when people fight them. It makes them feel good when they break finally break the sentient's spirit. You are setting yourself up for pain."

"Oh. Umm. I don't know what else to be."

"Quiet, maybe," he muttered, rubbing his temples. He turned to settle himself on the dirty mattress in the corner, seemingly done speaking for now.

Obi-wan settled back against the wall of her cell. Now that her adrenaline was gone, she felt tired and drained more so than normal. She thought it may have something to do with missing the Force. The cold of the cells left her longing for her cloak. She'd lost it in the furious sprint after she had left Master Qui-gon and Satine. Deathwatch had found them again, and she had led them away to ensure their safety. She wondered if they were alright. More than anything, she wished for the simplicity and happiness of their time together. Though, those last moments were anything but. She hoped they were safe. With that last thought, she drifted off, too exhausted to continue worrying for the moment.

There was fire in the temple. The bodies of elderly Master, Initiates, and Padawans lay scattered across the floor, blood and burnt fabric everywhere.
Obi-wan looked on in confused horror. Then she heard the terrified screaming of younglings coming from the council chambers. She took off at a sprint and

She was back on Melida/Daan Neild was holding Cerasi's body and sobbing. Cerasi's unseeing eyes stared up at the sky. Obi-wan reached out a hand to touch his shoulder when he snapped his head up and looked at her with hatred in his eyes. "This is your fault!" he screamed. Obi-wan took a step back.,

And faced Xanatos. He had a collar in his hands. His eyes kept flickering from blue to yellow and back as he mockingly purred, "Happy Birthday Little Sister. I bought you a necklace." He stepped closer, arms outstretched.

Obi-wan jolted awake with a gasp. The hold was dark, but she could hear Jango's leveled breaths from across the cells. She got up and walked the length of the cell, taking calming breaths as she did. Eventually, when her breathing had settled, she sat in lotus position. She spent the next hour shifting around, trying to slip into a deep meditation.

Jango woke suddenly, his breath, holding steady like Jas'buir had taught him. "When you wake suddenly, don't make a sound. Keep your breath even, as if you were still asleep. If you don't, you'll lose the element of surprise. Listen and take stock of your surroundings. Then decide on your course of action. That's how you keep yourself safe, ad'ika (little one, son, daughter of any age)."

The hold's lights were still off, indicating it was still the sleep cycle for the ship. He wondered what had woken him. Then he heard Ben's shuffling around in the dark. That explained it then. New slaves always had a rough first night. He rolled over and tried to drift, but she wouldn't stop moving. Every time he approached the edge of sleep, he'd hear her move about, and it would snap him back to full awareness. After an hour, Jango gave up.

"If you're having trouble sleeping, do you think listening to a story would help?" He called over.

"What?'

"A story, I'm sure you know what a story is."

"Of course, I know what a story is, but no one has offered in a long time."

"Well?"

"Sure, why not. It's not like we have a holoprojector here."

"Ok. This is the story I was told on my first night collared. It's my favorite story, so I asked for it often."

"How old… never mind, please continue."

"I was 15."

"Oh," whispered Ben.

"One day, Lukka and his sister Leha walked out of their father, Ekkreth's house. The twins had come of age and set out to see the world, as they had longed to.

Their father had warned them of the dangers of Depur. Telling them, "Remember to keep your ribbons on, and that Depur has many chains. So, you must always be on the lookout for them. And if you should be caught..."

"Change your shape," interrupted Leha.

"Father, we love you, but you worry too much. We have heard your stories and know-how to trick Depur as you have," cried Lukka.

"When we have finished our trip. We will come home and begin helping you in your work," the children promised.

And so, the twin children of Ekkreth set out from their father's home. They had walked a long-time marveling at the beauty of the world when they came upon a small dwelling. They could only see an old woman stooped with age tending a garden. So, the twins called out to her.

"Grandmother, what are you growing?" they inquired.

"I am growing black melons," she replied, "They carry the life-giving water from the dried tears of Ar'amu."

"May I try one?" Leha asked.

"Do you have anything to pay with?"

"I don't have any money, but I have this hair ribbon."

The Grandmother's eyes lit on the ribbon with greed as Leha took down her long hair from its braids, unweaving the red ribbon until her hair was loose and flowed.

Lukka shifted from foot to foot. "Leha, father gave you that ribbon. He told you to keep it on. You should not trade it away."

"Father has given me many ribbons Lukka, but no melons. When we return home, I will weave another ribbon, and all will be well."

"If this woman wants something Father gave you, I cannot support this. I will go home and get him. He will know what to do."

So Lukka left, and Leha gave the woman her hair ribbon in exchange for the melon.
Leha broke open the melon's hard shell and nibbled at the delicate flesh inside. It tasted bitter, under the sugar sweetness. Leha looked down at the black melon as the color crept out, covering her vision.

She woke in darkness with chains around her wrists, ankles, and neck. The old woman, the Depur, was laughed at her struggles.

"If you had kept the ribbon, I would not have been able to touch you, but Ekkreth's mark cannot protect you now."

Leha knew not how much time had passed in the cave, but each day she fought. She bargained with the Depur. She cried out. She snapped at the Depur. She pulled at her chains. She tried to run. She fought with everything she had until she was spent panting on the ground, with only her thoughts.

She thought of her father and her brother. They would be searching for her by now. The thought that the Depur would get them too filled her with rage.

This Depur would not take her family. She would not wrap them in chains. She would not take their freedom from them.

The emotion filled her body and spilled out into the air, and as it did so, she felt her body grow and change. It was at this moment the Depur came to gloat again. The Depur screamed as Leha's chains broke.

She looked at the Depur with her newly yellowed eyes, sharp teeth, and tough skin. When she spoke, her voice was now a deep growl, not the girlish pitch it had been.

"I am Ekkreth's daughter, and I will never be chained again."

Leha then snapped up the Depur in her jaws, and when she was done, she walked out of the cave.

This is how Leha became the Unfettered, the first Depuskalta (Master-Slayer). "

When Jango finished his story, Obi-wan smiled.

"I can see how this would give you hope, but I don't think that anger will be what frees us' she said.
He opened his mouth to reply. When the dowsing system switched on, and water rained down from the ceiling. They both groaned as it rained down, soaking the both of them. It washed the dirt from Jango's hair, and the blood from Obi-wan's, revealing her strawberry blonde locks.

Shivering, she asked, "So, why is just us?" she quired, glancing towards the empty cells around them.

"Well, they think we're controllable fighters. Specifically, that we're good for the gladiatorial arenas in Hutt space. Places like that will pay several thousand credits apiece for the privilege of watching us die." His blasé tone made her snort.

"If we reach Hutt space, that is," she muttered darkly. He chuckled.

"They run a pretty tight operation. If you want to stage a breakout, it's going to take some serious planning and time. Time we are short on."

"What do you mean?"

"It's only a two-week journey to Hutt Space from here, four if they decide to sell us to the Zygerrians instead."

"Why would they choose the Zygerrians over the Hutts? The Hutts always pay out for slaves. The Zygerrians have been known to double-cross small time slaver operations."

He looked at her strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes frowning. Then glancing down the hall to make sure he wasn't overheard, he whispered, "You're Stwejoni, right?"

"What's that got to do with anything" she whispered, matching his tone. Heart beating a little faster than before, dread curling in her gut.

"Everything. You're Zygerria's preferred breeding stock. Your near-human species doesn't take the same damage a base human takes with childbirth. Meaning they can get almost two new slaves a year from you at minimum. How did you not know this!? Slavers scour the galaxy looking for an opportune moment to kidnap a Stewjoni."" You're worth millions to them." He paled, continuing, "Please tell me they haven't run your blood."

"What the, kark!" she exclaimed. "No one ever told me that! I've been a slave before, and they didn't tell me that when I was rescued or before." "Why didn't they tell me?!" she looked down at her hands with a lost look in her eyes.

Jango didn't know what to say. She'd been freed only to end up back in a slaver's chains. This girl had a target on her back the size of Endor's moon. Whoever had been caring for her certainly didn't prepare her properly for the galaxy.

Who in their right mind wouldn't tell a Stewjoni'ad that they needed to be careful and always on their guard outside the Midrim? What kind of Dar'Buir wouldn't protect their ad? Especially from slavers who, who would do unspeakable things to them? It turned his stomach to think about it.

"I don't think they ran my blood yet." She whispered, a hint of fear showing through for the first time. "They were too interested in my force sensitivity, but they'll run it soon to check my M count."

"That bantha kark?" he snorted. "That osik (shit) the Jetiise (Jedi) claim guides their every action, even up to slaughter?" Derision dripped off his tongue as he spat the words

She stiffened with a flash of terror before schooling her expression into a calm mask. Jango didn't know what to make of it. Ben didn't have this reaction when he told her the danger she was in.

Unfreezing after a long moment, she inquired, "Gar jorhaa'ir mando'a" (You speak Mando'a?)
It was his turn to be surprised. His heart swelled, overcome it had been years since he'd heard his first language. And though she spoke with the mixed accent of Coruscant's long vowels and Sundari's lilt, it had been too long for him to care.

"Elek. Ni cuy' a Mando" (Yes. I'm a Mandolorian). He eagerly pushed himself towards the bars. Who was this girl that she spoke his language when she obviously wasn't a Mandalorian? At least not a Haat'ade, and definitely not Krys'tad. She might have been an Evaar'la Mando'ade (New Mandalorians), but she had fought with mandokarla. There was no way she was with those hut'unn'e (cowards). Who was she?

"Tion'ad ba'jurir gar mando'a?" (Who taught you Mando'a?)

"Ner burc'ya" (my friend). She glanced away with a frown on her face.

Jango wondered what had become of this friend and which House they were sworn to. He wasn't the only Mandalorian to have ended up in chains at one point or another. Perhaps they had been captured together, and someone else bought this friend. Maybe the friend was trying to find Ben now. That would be nice. They would need all the help they could get in the next few weeks.

"Vaii cuyir gar burc'ya jii?" (Where is your friend now) he inquired.

"Ni vaabir nayc kar'taylir. Morut'yc ni vercopa" (I don't know. Safe, I hope)

How on earth was he going to get out of this. He wished his Jas'buir was here. He'd know what to do and how to talk Ben through this recklessness. He shook his head. Jaster was dead, and he had to help himself now, and apparently this atin (Stubborn) girl.