Chapter 4: The Hatred and the Fear

Tatooine: 32 BBY

Dawn touched Tatooine's deserts with gentle fingers of light, the rising suns deceptive in their beauty. It would not be long until their warm caress turned into a burning grip that seemed to condemn the planet with every new day. But for the moment the world or at least a part of it lay in temporary peace.

Lying in the cool sands and sheltered away under wind beaten rocks a young boy awoke as the first rays of muted light reached into the cave. Anakin opened his eyes to a different world than had existed before he'd fallen asleep. The sandstorm had come to an end sometime during the night, but before it had died it had left its mark on the desert floor. The sand had shifted and now lay in its new place. Whatever trail the slave boy had left as he dragged the half dead stranger was gone, the blood that had stained the ground swept away by the wrath of the storm.

Yet the desert planet was also still the same. The terrain remained unchanged, although the sand that covered Tatooine's surface had shifted. The same dunes still stood in their places just as indomitable as any mountain made of rock. Not even the raging fury of a storm that had lasted most of the night had been able to leave a permanent change on their gentle slopes. The planet's surface would still burn under the watchful suns, and the people who lived beneath them would still be ruled by their gaze.

Anakin glared back at the twin suns, even as they rose above the horizon. He'd done this every day as a small act of defiance for as long as he could remember. Although he couldn't remember when or why he had begun this daily ritual, the act made him feel as if he had some control over his life, and perhaps even his future.

Never had the young slave expected to be responsible for the life and fate of someone else. The Zabrak lay in the furthest corner of the shallow cave, where the light had yet to reach as if it was somehow afraid to venture further and touch the stranger.

Blue eyes drifted away from the lightening sky and towards the shadows, following the trail of his thoughts which had turned toward the injured man who lay only a short distance away. Anakin had not had the energy to be curious about his companion the night before, but now he felt the burning desire of need to know more. It was the same way he felt when he pulled apart machines, wanting to know what they were, how they worked and what their purpose was. This feeling was stronger though. Anakin didn't just want to know, he needed to know. Accompanying the intense desire for answers, came fear.

Anakin did not fear machines when he looked for answers in them, but he feared the answers he might find in this unknown outlander. It occurred to him then, that the man he had rescued might be dangerous. In fact, if the Zabrak had anything to do with Tatooine, a known planet of outcasts, smugglers, thieves and murders, it was almost certain he was someone who should be feared. Besides, Anakin had seen the crashed ship. It was not something someone owned for simple joyrides around the galaxy. It had been made to fight and destroy.

The red skinned man lay motionless and unthreatening for the moment. Even though he was just as damaged as his starship had been, Anakin felt as if he were watching a sleeping Kryat dragon. Every nerve in the boy's body tingled in warning as he began to creep forward. Dragons were even more dangerous when they were in pain.

However, curiosity outweighed caution. Hesitantly and much like a timid animal approaching something unfamiliar, Anakin continued to move toward the unconscious man. Feeling his heart beating loudly in his chest, he paused. As Anakin tried to calm himself he realized he'd forgotten to breathe. Wary of waking the Zabrak he took a few steadying breaths. There was no way someone who appeared so deeply asleep could hear his heartbeat.

When at last Anakin drew near enough to the stranger, his fear was completely forgotten. There was little more to notice about the Zabrak that the boy hadn't noticed the day before. All that had changed was the blood had now dried on the dark robes, flaking away where the fabric had creased. But that was not what held Anakin's attention. There clipped onto the belt was a long silver cylinder. Of course, he'd never seen one before, but there were stories. This was a weapon of the Jedi. It was a lightsaber.

If anything the weapon should have only proved how dangerous the situation was. But Anakin dropped to the ground next to the lightsaber's owner in awe. He'd heard tales of the Jedi who wielded such weapons. They were powerful men and women who enforced peace throughout the galaxy. It had been Anakin's dream to meet one ever since a deep space pilot had mentioned the strange group of sorcerers, and he had hoped that when finally he did, it would mean he would not have to be a slave any longer.

Before he realized what he was doing, Anakin reached out and traced the length of the cool alloy of the sabre. Its power drew him just as much as his curiosity had. This one item could change everything.

Unbidden, the thoughts of taking the lightsaber and wielding it as his own clouded the slave's mind. It would be easy to just take it for himself, and it would be like a key to unlocking his freedom. With it, he would do great things, and free the slaves from the rule of the Hutt's. Those who had once threatened or harmed him would come to fear him, and no one would ever look down on Anakin Skywalker again. Images of himself marching into Mos Espa while wielding a blade that cast its glow over him as he raised it above his head only to bring it down on…

Who?

Killing Watto wouldn't free him. Jabba the Hutt? It was impossible. The slug-like monstrosity was well protected, and a nine-year-old with a laser sword would be as effective as a nine-year-old with a stick. And even if he succeeded, Anakin likely would no longer be alive to see the consequences of his actions. The family of gangsters was vast, and his death would change as much as the sandstorm had. Jabba was merely a grain of sand.

Anakin let his hand limply fall away from the silvered hilt of the lightsaber and he closed his eyes and tilted his head back in a sort of resignation. "Chuta," he swore softly.

What of the Jedi next to him? What could he really do? The Zabrak warrior was broken and near death. Whatever wealth the Jedi may have had been lost in the destroyed starship, and whatever parts that could have been scavenged were now likely buried somewhere in the scorching sands.

At that moment he felt like the child he was. Not only had he allowed his imagination get away from him, but in that brief moment he'd felt hope. Only for reality to knock him back to the ground once more. Deep down Anakin knew it was reasonable for him to think like that, he was only nine, but he'd somehow deluded himself into thinking he was better than that and had blinded himself to reality. He was foolish, weak, and utterly powerless. He hated himself for it, although there was nothing he could do to change the fact he was still very young.

A low moan that sounded more like a growl made Anakin's eyes open in shock, as the stranger began to pull himself from the darkness of sleep.

Surprised, he scrambled back out of reach as he continued to watch the Zabrak awaken. He had barely been able to believe the man had lived through the night, let alone regain his consciousness so quickly. Of course, Anakin knew some species that roamed the galaxy could have exceedingly different anatomy, and not all races were bound by the same physical limits as humans. This was different though. Even when he had found the injured man, the stranger had nearly been dead.

Even as the young slave questioned how living in such a condition was even possible a wave of emotion hit him as strong as the winds of a storm. Anakin had always been quick to know the emotions of others much the same as he'd known of bad weather and other such events before they happened. When he was pod racing he always somehow knew the intentions of those around him. He knew when an angered Dug was about to lash out in anger, or when Watto's greed pushed him to make rash decisions.

It was not something he'd consciously noticed, but rather something he was so used to having it was as much a part of him as having arms and legs. This time was different. This time rather than sensing the emotions of an enraged Dug or a pushy Toydarian, he felt like he was being attacked by something physical. The emotion was so intense it was unrecognizable, almost like what he was experiencing was something entirely nameless and new.

Fear laced Anakin's blood and made him feel more vulnerable than he had before. Not even his time as a slave under Gardula the Hutt had brought forth such terror. Was the thing before him really a Jedi? The Zabrak had a laser sword, and only Jedi's carried that kind of weapon. But perhaps this strange man had killed a Jedi and taken it from him. Was that even possible? Up until now, he'd believed no one could kill a Jedi. But the power he felt from the Zabrak was not what he'd imagined. It was dark somehow like it wanted to hurt something.

The tattooed face of the Zabrak twisted into a snarl, and he moaned in obvious pain although it sounded more like a growl, and then yellow eyes opened and looked up at Anakin.

"You're awake!" Exclaimed Anakin, trying not to let his voice give away his feelings, while at the same time trying to show he was not a threat. He doubted he could harm the awoken Zabrak even if he wanted to.

The stranger did not speak immediately and looked at Anakin with an expression the boy did not understand. The Zabrak continued to scrutinize him as if looking for something. Realizing the man was likely wondering how he had come to be on a sandy floor of a cave, alone with an unfamiliar child, and alive, the slave boy continued to talk.

"I found you in the desert. Sorry, but your starship was pretty broken. I don't think it'll fly again. Anyway, I dragged you here to wait out the sandstorm, it's over now so I can go and get help. I did the best I could to…well…" Anakin gestured at where the stranger's leg should have been. "Sorry," he finished uselessly.

He didn't know why he apologized. It was not like he had been the one to remove the man's legs, and he couldn't do anything to make them grow back.

Finally, the dark clad stranger spoke. "Who are you, boy?" His voice was rough and carried a hint of threat. There was no sign he cared about his missing limbs or the fact he should be dead.

Anakin raised his head proudly, refusing to show weakness. "I'm Anakin Skywalker, sir."

The man grinned although it was more like a snarl as his tattoos stretched across his face, making it appear even more fearsome. "I can sense your fear, Skywalker."

"I can sense your hate," quipped Anakin in defence. Realizing what he'd said the boy slapped his hands over his mouth, horrified by what he'd just said. He'd lost control when his weakness had been so easily thrown in his face and he'd said something dangerous because of it.

Low laughter filled the cavern as the Zabrak tilted his head back in amusement. "Can you now? Then you are right to be afraid." The boy was brave, foolish but brave. "Tell me, why did you try and save me?"

Anakin's hands fell away from his mouth, although they remained at the ready, prepared to stop him if he said anything else he didn't want to. "Because it was the right thing to do?"

"Is it?" The Zabrak asked under his breath so quietly Anakin could barely hear him. Anakin kept his mouth shut this time, feeling the stranger had asked that question to himself. Something in the yellowed eyes sharpened, and the man began to haul himself into an upright position. Strained by the effort, the stranger's face contorted in pain.

Instinctively, Anakin moved to assist the struggling man, but a harsh noise from the Zabrak kept the boy at bay. At last, he managed to support himself against the wind smoothed wall of the cave.

"Umm, do you want some water?" Offered Anakin. He held it out for the exhausted Zabrak to take. To his amazement, and without any physical movement on the other man's part, the container of water lifted out of Anakin's hand and flew into the waiting red hand of the stranger.

"It's true," said Anakin in amazement. "You're a Jedi aren't you?"

The Zabrak stilled. The physical oppression of the hatred Anakin had sensed moments ago returned even stronger than before. The youth cringed, his fear rising once more.

"No, I am more than a mere Jedi." The voice of the stranger was low and burned with anger. "Do not compare me to the likes of them. I am not bound by their rules. I will kill you and any other without mercy for no other reason than my desire to."

Anakin knew the Zabrak was telling the truth. He believed the stranger could easily kill almost whomever he wanted without thinking twice about it. But something in the statement was wrong. Some instinct told Anakin that the stranger had no intention to harm his rescuer. For whatever reason, he would not harm Anakin. At least, not at the moment.

"I don't think so. I don't think you want to hurt me." Anakin replied confidently.

"And what makes you say that?" Growled the Zabrak, his eyes narrowing threateningly.

The boy paused. How could he explain something he just knew? Quietly he replied, "I don't know. I can just… feel it. But why did you lie about it?"

It was the stranger's turn to hesitate. Something played in the depths of his eyes and it looked like he was seeing something beyond the present.

"You have saved my life, Skywalker. There are things that I have yet to do, and you have allowed me my chance to accomplish them. I am grateful for that, so I will return the debt and allow you to live."

"You're welcome. I think," said Anakin. He wasn't sure if being allowed to live was a reward or not. Not that he'd acted in expectation of a reward. Then again being allowed to live was an uncertain reward granted by slave masters all the time, although such people rarely needed to be thankful for the actions of slaves. Slaves were tools meant to do a job and nothing more.

Anakin's thoughts reminded him that his own master was probably waiting, and dawn was quickly turning into day. He had little time if he wished to make it to Watto's shop in time or suffer the consequences of being late. Or worse, his mother. She still had no idea what had happened to him.

Beginning to panic, the slave boy said, "I have to go! My Master and mother are probably waiting for me. If I'm late I'll be in trouble."

Anakin reached into his pockets and found the two pallies that Jira had given him the previous day. He flung them towards the stranger. They would have ended up in the sand if not for the stranger using the same power he had on the water to catch them.

"You can have those. You'll like them. I promise I'll find help and come back for you, so just rest for now." Anakin turned to leave the cave in a hurry but the stranger's voice stopped him.

"No."

Anakin turned to look back. The Zabrak's face was stern. "Tell no one of my presence here. There are people whom I do not wish to know of my existence. Speak nothing of me or what happened here." For a moment, so quick that the boy wondered if it had even happened, a flash of fear crossed the man's face. However, it was immediately covered by a mask of hatred.

What could the Zabrak fear so much, when he had not even been bothered by his disability, or how close his death had circled him? Anakin realized he still didn't know what had caused the stranger to become so broken. The man had claimed he was more than a Jedi, and yet something had nearly killed him.

The boy shook his head. There was no time to ask more questions. He would have to come back later and ask then.

"All right," Anakin said. "I'll come back tonight with more food and water. I promise." With that, he turned and began to run back into the desert, and headed back toward home.

As his feet pounded against the sand, and he raced the rising suns, it occurred to Anakin that he had not asked the man who he was. He did not know his name. It would just be another question to ask when he came back. For now, though, he had to focus on running.

Ahead he could see the shapes of Mos Espa's buildings which marked Tatooine's skyline. He was almost there, just a little further. There would be no time to go home and tell his mother he was okay, not if he wanted to make it in time to Watto's shop. He hoped she was all right, and wouldn't worry much. She was a smart woman and was used to Anakin getting himself into trouble and facing danger. Hopefully, she had enough faith in her son to trust he was also able to get himself out of trouble as well.

Part of Anakin was relieved as well. He'd promised to keep the stranger a secret, and he didn't know if he could face his mother and lie to her. He'd never done it before, and the thought of not telling the truth to her sparked a feeling of guilt in the pits of his stomach. Up until now, he'd trusted his mother with everything no matter what. Anakin ground his teeth as he wondered what he was going to tell her. At least he had some time before he would see her, and in that time he could prepare.

The heat of the rising suns began to burn Anakin's back as he continued to sprint through the sand, and he hoped no one would follow his footprints back to the cave. There was nothing he could do about it however except for hope.

At last, the slave's feet hit the harder packed sand that marked the borders to town. He was almost there. Already the streets had begun to fill with all manner of people. Everything from moisture farmers to bounty hunters, to slaves, and outlanders who had come for the pod race mingled about, making full use of the coolest part of the day. Anakin dodged through them all, glad for once of his small size.

Watto's shop was located close to the outskirts of the small spaceport, not far from the arena where the pod races were held. Most of his profit that didn't come from farm equipment or simple technology used in everyday life, but from rare items that powered pods and spaceships. He was one of the only dealers on the planet that had made a successful business of selling such high-tech and high-priced items. This was partially thanks to Anakin's skill at fixing things. If not most of the junk Watto acquired was just that. Junk.

As Anakin raced through the familiar streets he had little time to react when a brown robed outlander stumbled into his way. With a mumbled apology and a quick nod the slave boy hurried on, only having enough time to hear a polite, "I apologize," in return. Fleetingly Anakin wondered at the outlander as he ran on. The robes of whomever it was he had bumped into were not something commonly worn on the hot planet. They were dark and long and not suitable for such a climate.

Careening around a corner, Anakin all but flung himself into the Toydarian's shop. The second sun had just left the line of the horizon and followed its twin into the sky. He had made it. Barely.

"You're here." Watto's Huttese greeted the exhausted boy. "Get working on repairing that Pit Droid. It's not going to fix itself." The Toydarian eyed his slave suspiciously when he saw the boy sweating and gasping for air. But as always the Slave Master was too lazy to care, and said, "I don't care how exhausted you are, you've got work to do."

Anakin managed a nod and quickly fell into his routine. He let his body go through the motions, but his mind was far away. The day was no longer the same as any other.

I think I make too many sandstorm references and metaphores. But I don't care. So, make friends and make metaphores.