Boonta Eve is a big holiday on Tatooine for the slaves and the Hutts alike. It is the one day a year that everyone has a day to themselves. But the weeks leading up to the Classic are as hot, as long, and as tiresome as any other. Still, there is an air of excitement around the slave quarters. Nothing but pod-races in their future.
On Boonta Eve, Shmi takes Anakin by the hand. He is old enough now to attend the festivities. When Shmi was younger she loved the pod-races, but since Anakin was born, she's enjoyed the reprieve. It's meant a quiet few days to herself and her son. Quality time, her time –something that Shmi doesn't have a lot of. But now –Anakin, just about three, has been talking to Match about the pod-races.
"Boonta Eve," Match says to Anakin while they work on the vaporators. "It's the best day of the year! The Hutts give us the day to ourselves!"
"No work?" Anakin asks.
"That's right," Match says. "No work! All the big kids go to the pod-races on Boonta Eve. It's exciting, Ani," he says. "Fast, dangerous. The pods smash into each other, and sometimes there are even explosions!"
All Anakin can talk about after that is the pod-races. And so Shmi takes him. She takes him on a crowded speeder, crammed between Match and the others, and walk into Mos Espa. It's the one day of the year that no one looks at her, treats her and her son like slaves. It's too crowded and everyone in too high spirits to notice whether the family they are rubbing elbows with are slave or free. Shmi clutches Anakin's hand as she drags him through the crowds into the arena. Far away –too far away to really see much of anything, even the big screen projecting the race –with the rest of Tatooine's lower class. She can see Gardulla sitting in one of the boxes with her cronies. Tatooine's elite filter in late, drunk, and rowdy. The rest of the crowd crams into the bleachers, already sunburnt and tired, craning their necks to see over top of strangers' heads. Anakin rests his head against Shmi's arm as they wait for the race to start.
There's a horn call, and a shuffling in the seats as people turn to see Jabba enter. The commentators announce the pods and the entire audience gets to their feet. Anakin stands on the bench between Shmi and Match but the only view he has is the back of the person in front of him. "Mama," he cries. "Mama I can't see."
Before Shmi can react, Match picks him up and swings him onto his shoulders. "How's that, Ani?"
"Thanks, Match," Anakin says, laughing with delight. "I can see everything from up here!" He looks down at Shmi. The sun is right behind his head, and it hurts to look at him. "Mama!" he laughs. "Mama I'm taller than you!"
"Not yet, Ani," Shmi says, but Anakin puts his hand on top of her head just to prove his point
"Yes, I am, see?" he says. He looks over top the crowd, across the arena and the dessert. "Mama," he says again, craning his neck. "I can see our house from here."
"Can you?" Shmi asks, watching Anakin watch the crowd. Match watches the pods on the screen with great interest, and he points out this year's favorite, tells him about how he's won the Classic every year.
"There's a new favorite this year though," Match says. And he points him out to Anakin. Shmi watches him too. She tries not to think about what the others around them must think. A normal looking family, some moisture farmers or traders, or something, out to enjoy the holiday. The one day no one asks anything from anyone else. Her heart aches to think of it –to think of the life she and Anakin would never have, the life Match himself must have thought of so many times in his life. Anakin's hands land in Match's hair and he looks right at home as the pods start up and the race commences. She knows that tomorrow or the next day -depending on how the race goes –they will go back to being slaves, but for now, it's nice to pretend.
Sebulba ousts the incumbent winner of the Boonta Eve Classic, and it's a tough time to be a gambler or the property of a gambler on Tatooine. Anakin and Shmi don't know, at first. Anakin falls asleep before the race is even over. But the next morning when Shmi and Anakin are out working on the vaporators, an overseer comes to round them up. The same one who took Anakin only months before takes him now, but Anakin is older and Shmi is surprised but not shocked or terrified like she once was, so Anakin looks at her, and though he looks like he's about to cry, he does not. He does not struggle or squirm or speak. He places binders on Anakin's hands and feet and drops him unceremoniously to the ground and then walks over to Shmi and stops. "You and the kid are coming with me," he says. "Gardulla bet you on the podrace. Thought the kid'd be good luck. Guess she was wrong." He places Shmi in binders too, shackles her to Anakin. Shmi doesn't think about where they're going because at least for the moment it seems that they are going together.
It's not until the overseer throws them into an already crowded shipping container that Anakin starts to cry. "Mama," he sobs. "Where are we going?"
"Hush, Ani," Shmi says. The binders are still on, and they're still shackled together. Shmi is thankful, because it means she and Anakin can't get separated while on board, but it's hard to maneuver Anakin into her lap like this. "It's going to be okay, Ani," she lies, combing her fingers through his hair. Anakin twists himself awkwardly in her lap to bury his face in her chest. It's awkward and uncomfortable, the binders too tight around her wrists. Eventually Anakin falls asleep, and then later, much later, the shipping container starts to move. The people inside jostle around a bit, look up. Shmi isn't the only mother on board –some are alone, some with children –and there are children younger than Anakin here too. Alone. One small girl cries to herself in the corner and Shmi aches to comfort her. To lie to her too. Promise her that everything will be all right, and have her believe it, just for a moment.
After a while, the shipping container stops. Some slavers come on board. They shove some of the people down the ramp roughly and shove more on. A boy, about seventeen, falls next to Shmi and Anakin. He's young, but his face is lined with the hardships his short life has brought. Shmi doesn't know, but she can imagine. The boy leans against the wall of the shipping container, inspects the others with a smirk, and closes his eyes.
Anakin wakes up and he doesn't remember where he is. He looks up at Shmi and looks around. "Mama," he whispers, with tears in his eyes. "Where are we?"
Shmi purses her lips. What kind of answer could she give Anakin? Where were they? "We're…" she says slowly, thinking. "We're moving."
"Why?" Anakin asks. "Where are we going?"
Shmi thinks. But she doesn't have answers that Anakin will like. Shmi thinks and Anakin looks up at her expectantly.
"You're going on an adventure," says a quiet voice from beside them.
Anakin whips his head around to see the young man who is sitting beside them. He's leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees to get a better look at Anakin in the dim light. Anakin looks at him surprised. Shmi is surprised too. No one is talking to each other on the whole shipping container. Just a few family members trying to keep each other calm.
"Do you like adventures, little man?" he asks. Anakin nods. "Me too," he says, "that's why I'm here." He's lying. He's wincing with every word like it hurts to breathe, but he's smiling at Anakin like getting hauled onto a shipping container to be sold across Tatooine or across the galaxy was the adventure of a lifetime. "What's your name, little man?" Anakin looks up at Shmi nervously. "My name is Abric," the boy offers.
"Anakin," Anakin says quietly.
"Anakin," Abric echoes. "Well, Anakin, I'll tell you about the adventure I'm going to have. Do you wanna hear about that?"
Anakin nods eagerly, leaning closer to Abric.
"Well…" he says. "I'm here because I fight bad guys. That's why they put these binders on me," he holds up his hands to show Anakin. Anakin gasps and holds up his hands too. "You too, huh?" Abric laughs. "I bet that's why you and your mama are here, too, right?" Abric looks up at Shmi for a second. His face crumples for a half a second, and then he beams, looking back at Anakin. "I'm sure you're a hero, right, Anakin?"
"Yeah," Anakin says, caught up in Abric's story.
"Well," Abric continues. "After they take us to Mos Espa I'm going to leave Tatooine and fight some more bad guys."
"Can I come?" Anakin asks, and Shmi doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Abric will never leave Tatooine, except maybe to work on some mining planet. Maybe that's where he's going.
Abric smiles sadly. "I don't know, Anakin," he says thoughtfully. "I think you have to ask your mama."
Anakin turns to Shmi. "Mama…?" he says, but then he stops, looks back at Abric. "Can she come?" he asks.
"No, Ani, I can't go," Shmi answers.
"Why not?"
"Who's going to protect Tatooine if your mama leaves?" Abric answers for her. Anakin nods seriously.
"Okay," Anakin says. "I can't go with you," he says. "I have to stay with my mom."
Abric rubs his chin. "That's right you do," Abric says. "I think Tatooine needs both of you, little man. Stay here and protect your home, you got that?"
"Where will you go?" Anakin asks.
"Hmm," Abric hums. "Everywhere, I think," he decides. "Maybe when you're grown up, I'll come back and take you with me. Then you can have adventures in the whole galaxy, not just on Tatooine. Would you like that?"
"Can my mom come then?" Anakin asks.
Abric smiles a little. "Yeah," he says. "I think your mama could definitely come with us when you're grown up."
Anakin talks to Abric for the rest of the trip across Tatooine, picking up slaves, dropping them off, until they arrive at Mos Espa. ("You ever been to Mos Espa, Anakin?" Abric asks. Shmi laughs, thinking about the walk Anakin took about a year ago.) And then, the remaining slaves are herded off the shipping container, and into a mass crowd. It's almost as crowded as it was on Boonta Eve, but they're all slaves. All in binders and shackles. Anakin stumbles down the ramp and grabs onto Abric's leg. Shmi scoops him up. Anakin is shaking with fear.
"Be brave, Ani," Shmi whisper to him. "We're heroes, remember." Anakin nods and lays his head against Shmi's shoulder.
"I'm brave, Mama," he whispers. "But I don't feel good."
No. He wouldn't. Shmi isn't Force sensitive, and the fear in the alleyway the shipping container let them out is palpable. Shmi doesn't know how to help him with this. The Jedi would teach Anakin about the Force, rescue him from a life where he is bought and sold for the entertainment of their masters. "It's okay, Ani," Shmi assures him. "We'll be in a new home soon enough," she says. Though she can only hope they're together. Anakin's eyes start to water and Shmi pushes that thought out of her mind. One less terrified soul in the crowd would do Anakin some good. "Focus on me, Ani," Shmi insists, as tears start to fall from Anakin's eyes. Her heart breaks for him, a cold pit in her stomach whispers that this may well be the last time she sees Anakin, and Anakin cries harder, trying to quiet his cries in Shmi's shoulder. They're jostled a little by the slave traders watching them from the sidelines. "We're going to okay, Ani," she whispers. "We're going to stay together." She can barely hold him, and walking in such a discouraged crowd with her hands and feet still bound. But she won't let him go. These slavers would take Anakin from her over her dead body. What would Anakin do without her? What would she do without Anakin?
They stop, and some slaves are sent one way, some filtered the other. Anakin, Shmi, and Abric stay where they are, and their shackles are taken off. There's nowhere to run, all the traders are armed to the teeth. Abric bares his threateningly at the slaver who releases him, and though he doesn't move, Shmi can see his muscles tense.
"Try anything and your dead, sleemo," the slaver growls.
"Reunite me with my family, see if I care," Abric snarls back, displaying canines that are too sharp to be human. Shmi didn't notice before. The slaver whacks him in the face with the end of his blaster. Her heart stops for a moment, wonders what Abric is planning.
After the crowd clears a little more, they're led a little further along, into the main streets of Mos Espa. Out in the open, Abric watches the crowds carefully. As they pass one of the space ports, Abric elbows the slaver next to in the gut, grabs his blaster and takes off towards the ship. Anakin watches him with wide eyes. Every slave holds their breath. They all know what's going to happen next, even if Anakin does not.
Before he gets halfway to the ship he's dead.
Before Shmi can cover Anakin's eyes, tell him to look away. She knows he wouldn't have listened anyway. He starts to call out to him a half a second before it happens. He's crying before the slaver even presses the detonator. He's not the only one. There are children who were surprised by the blast, and civilians who were out early in the morning before the day got too hot. Shmi is fighting tears. It would do no good, it would not bring Abric back, would not get him off Tatooine, it would not remove the bomb inside him, or the bomb inside her, or Anakin, souring any chance at escape they might have had.
Shmi wipes blood off of Anakin's face, steps over Abric's hand that fell right in front of her path. "Mama," Anakin sobs, looking at where Abric was standing before. "What happened?"
But Shmi doesn't know how to explain this to Anakin. She thinks of the way Abric made him smile before. But that kind of explanation would get them in trouble, get them separated at the very least.
"Mama, where is he?" Anakin asks, insistent.
"I'll tell you later, Ani," she promises. "Okay?" Anakin nods, still crying. The slavers watch them irritably, warily, but Shmi doesn't look at them. They don't try to separate them or tell Shmi to make Anakin be quiet. She just stares straight ahead, watching the back of the person in front of her, and tries to forget Abric's face the moment before he died.
Hours and hours later they are sold. They stand in the middle of Mos Espa during the hottest part of the day before Toydarian who bought them shows up. He seems more disheveled than every Toydarian Shmi has met, and though she's only met a handful in her life, it's saying a lot. He owns a junkyard, reselling scrap to stranded star pilots for more than they can reasonably afford. But he tells Shmi he's looking for someone to deal with customers and he's heard that Anakin has a knack for machines, and he didn't pay a thing for the two of them. Won them from Gardulla. And he gives them a place all to their selves in a section of the city inhabited solely by slaves. As long as they showed up at the junkyard on time –before the suns rise –and didn't leave until he said so, they wouldn't have a problem. He didn't care what they did on their own time, as long as it didn't cost him any money.
In spite of Watto's promise, she knows he has every right to break it. He could come in, take them away, sell them. But for tonight, Shmi tries to pretend that things would get better for them from now on. Pretend that Anakin didn't see a man –a boy –get blown up in front of his eyes. But Anakin cannot let it go.
"The people who own us are bad people, Anakin," Shmi says. "It is not right to own another being. Abric tried to leave, so that he could be free, but…" Shmi swallows. "That is the cost of freedom in our world. It's not right, it's bad. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mama," Anakin answers. He is sunburned from today, and his hair is sticking to his forehead in sweaty clumps.
"Abric was very brave, Ani," Shmi says. "And it's important to be brave, but you have to promise me something, yes?"
"Yes, Mama," he says again.
"Don't be so brave that you die," Shmi says. "Do you promise me? Freedom, Ani, it's not worth dying for."
Anakin nods, and Shmi's heart sinks. She wants to keep Anakin alive, no matter what, but she feels selfish, wrong for suggesting it. Shmi believes that one day Anakin will bring them –all of them –their freedom, but he's only three. Not now. No use for him to have ideas about dying now.
And besides, Shmi thinks, all the slaves free in the galaxy wouldn't mean anything if her son was dead.
A/N: This is a day later than I planned, and I just finished writing it about an hour ago, but I have just finished my first session of summer classes and all, so you guys can hopefully forgive typos and things. I wish it were better but I am trying to finish this piece by the end of August, so I have a schedule. You can expect updates about every week and a half, the next one July 8-9.