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The slaves were scared of the Jedi and the clones.
Rex had alerted the generals and commander first- their men had discovered tunnels under the palace they had stormed, and had come across the people huddled in a small room that reeked of misery. Obi-Wan could feel it, hovering within the Force around them, sharp and bitter as any poison.
Rex had attempted to speak to the group, to get them to come with their squadron, but they had only closed their eyes and huddled together tighter, refusing to speak or move. Obi-Wan had joined Rex, but he had not gotten any further, no matter what he tried to tell them.
“Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s voice crackled over his comm, and Obi-Wan turned away from the doorway where he stood, looking in on the group, and raised the comm to his mouth.
“We’re under the palace, Anakin. We found a group of people, but they refuse to come with us. We don’t know how to convince them.”
The line was silent for a moment. “Slaves?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming.”
Anakin was there minutes later, with Ahsoka in tow.
“General,” Rex said, stepping forward, still standing in the doorway. “They’re scared, I think. I don’t know if having more Jedi here will help.”
Obi-Wan could see the tension on Anakin’s face as he shrugged, could feel the tension through the Force.
“I have something I would like to try, Rex. May I?”
“Of course, General.” Rex stepped aside, and Anakin took his place in the doorway, looking in at the huddle of people who stared back. Most were human, but there were some Twi’lek and Zabrak faces mixed in, as well. All of them wore the same wary expression, with shuttered eyes and tight mouths.
Anakin stepped a few paces in past the doorway and sank to his knees before them. He began to speak, but it was not a language Obi-Wan understood, nor had he ever heard Anakin use before. It rumbled and dropped from his tongue like water, long languid syllables interwoven with harsher consonants and guttural stops. His hands moved along with his words, forming shapes in front of his chest. Several people’s mouths dropped open in clear surprise, and a few moved closer to their neighbors and began to mutter into their ears, evidently translating Anakin’s words for those who couldn’t understand them.
Obi-Wan glanced back to Rex and Ahsoka, but they looked just as perplexed as he felt.
Then, he heard Anakin pause, and he looked back to see him take a breath, tap himself twice on the chest, and say, the Force ringing with importance, “ Ekkreth .”
At once, Obi-Wan felt the mood of the room shift. Now, through the Force surrounding them, he could feel a hint of surprise, of something that felt like joy.
“ Ekkreth? ”
The whisper was rough, and old, and Obi-Wan’s head snapped up to see an old human woman, her weathered face shining, staring straight at Anakin.
Anakin nodded.
The woman, who seemed to be the de facto leader of the slave group, looked around her, nodded once, and moved to stand. Anakin sprang up and grasped her hand, helping her to her feet. “Easy, Gan-Amu ,” he murmured.
She looked up, past Anakin now, to Obi-Wan and Rex and Ahsoka. “We will come with you. Ekkreth has explained.” she said, in Basic now. She held tight to Anakin’s hand as the rest of the slaves around them stood. Some of them reached out to brush Anakin’s sleeves or shoulders with their fingers, and Obi-Wan felt their wonder and hope ring around him. Anakin was smiling, reaching with the hand that was not clutched by the old woman to touch the others as well, to reassure, murmuring words to them in turn. Obi-Wan could feel the peace and reassurance Anakin was pushing into the Force around them.
The slaves were still hesitant and unsure as they slowly started to leave the room, still bunched together and clutching companions’ sleeves or hands. Their eyes were trained on the floor and only a few, the youngest and bravest of them, seemed to want to risk glancing up to look at Obi-Wan or the others. They followed Rex and Anakin, who still walked with the old woman, silently, slowly, with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka bringing up the rear.
One of the slaves near the front of the group spoke up as they walked, a simple question, but Obi-Wan could feel the dread and hatred behind it.
“Where is Depur?”
Anakin stopped, suddenly, and the group behind him stumbled to a halt. He turned, and his eyes found Obi-Wan’s over the crowd.
“Obi-Wan,” he said, “We need to show them the Hutt’s body. They have to see it.”
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but any word he was about to say died when he saw the fierce, blazing look on Anakin’s face. This was important.
“Rex, lead us there, please.” he said instead.
Rex nodded and started walking again. They followed him through several turns and up the gentle sloping of the tunnels until sunlight started to show at the end of the hallway. They came out in a side room, and the group, already quiet, hushed even more as they drew up to the grand doors of the Hutt’s main receiving area.
Anakin looked back at the group, then threw open the doors.
“Here is Depur ,” he said, sweeping his hand towards the center of the room.
The body of the Hutt lay slumped over his throne, felled by the clones’ blaster fire and by Anakin’s final lightsaber strike. He was surrounded by the droids he had kept to defend him, and a few bodies, though the slaves didn’t seem upset about those to Obi-Wan as their eyes traveled over the scene. He heard several people’s intakes of breath, some faint, anxious-sounding laughter, but there were no tears, not even of happiness. Anakin’s young voice from long past flashed through his mind- crying wastes water.
They stood in silence for a moment as the slaves held each other and gazed on their former master. Rex was the first to break the silence.
“General, we should get these people onto the ship so that Kix can take a look at them.”
Anakin nodded. He looked back to the group. “Kix is our medic. He will take care of you.” He hesitated. “And I have a scanner on the ship. We can locate your chips and remove them before we leave the planet.”
They gazed back at Anakin and Obi-Wan felt that stirring of hope and happiness flow over the Force once again. The old woman whom Anakin had helped earlier said “Thank you, Ekkreth.”
Ahsoka, next to Obi-Wan, spoke up for the first time as they followed behind the group to where their ship was docked, her voice hushed and solemn.
“Master Obi-Wan? What did Master Anakin mean by chips?”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “Nothing good, Ahsoka. But we will fix it, I promise.”
Anakin had never discussed much about his childhood on Tatooine with Obi-Wan. It had never seemed necessary, and it wasn’t like it was a particularly happy subject. He wasn’t sure how much Obi-Wan knew, anyway-- his interactions back on Tatooine had been solely with Qui-Gon, and he hadn’t known Obi-Wan much at all until after Qui-Gon’s death. But now, Anakin was beginning to regret not speaking to him before. He knew he would have a lot to explain once they got the slaves safely on the ship.
For now, though, he walked next to Rex and listened to the murmurs of the people behind him. They spoke between themselves in very low Amatakka, soft enough that Anakin had to strain to hear. He knew Obi-Wan, Rex, and Ahsoka wouldn’t understand what was being said even if they heard them. A small part of Anakin basked in hearing the language once again, the secret language of his mother, and her mother, and of all the slaves on Tatooine— and, it seemed, most of the Outer Rim. He wondered if Tatooine slaves, taken to other planets by their masters or escaping off-world once they had been freed, had spread the language to the other worlds.
He was shaken from his musings as they reached the ship. Fives and Echo were waiting next to the ramp, and they nodded their greetings as their group approached.
“General Skywalker, Kix is ready for you in the medbay. Commander Rex commed ahead.”
“Thank you, Fives. Are the rest of the men alright?”
Fives snorted. “Takes more than a Hutt and his cronies to hurt us, General. Everyone’s fine.”
Anakin nodded and smiled as the group behind him made their way up the ramp, following Rex. He hung back as Obi-Wan and Ahsoka drew up beside him, feeling their eyes on him.
“Master,” Ahsoka began, and Anakin flinched before he could stop himself, “how did you know what to do? What was that language? I’ve never heard you speak it before. And what are chips?”
He smiled tiredly at his Padawan. “It was… our language. Tatooine slave language. I used to be one.” Her hands jumped up to cover her mouth, and his smile turned wry. He shrugged uncomfortably, then sighed. “I’m okay. Really. And the chips…” Anakin rubbed his upper arm, where his removal scar was, remembering. “Masters put transmitter chips in their slaves so we can’t run. And if we try, they can set them off. So we explode.” Ahsoka squeaked, her eyes huge. Anakin’s eyes snapped to hers and he reached out to pull her into a hug. She sagged into his grip, holding him tight, and he ran a soothing hand down her back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But that’s why we need to get them out, so that they’ll really be free.”
She nodded and sniffed into his shoulder, and he felt the affection she sent through their training bond. He turned to Obi-Wan, his arm still slung around Ahsoka’s shoulders, and raised an eyebrow. He could feel Obi-Wan’s concern, and his hesitancy, through the Force, as if his old teacher was nervous about touching him, and, well. Kriff that.
“You want in on this, old man?”
Obi-Wan smiled and wrapped his arms around Anakin and Ahsoka both. Anakin shuddered slightly as Obi-Wan whispered into his hair, “We’ve got you, Anakin. We’ve got you.”
They joined Kix in the medbay once Anakin had retrieved his scanner from his quarters. Kix and the others had gotten all the worst-injured of the group onto the beds that lined the walls of the bay, and the rest stood huddled between the beds, clutching each others’ hands and watching Kix as he sprayed bacta onto a man’s leg. They murmured amongst themselves as Kix worked, but they seemed much more relaxed than they had previously.
Obi-Wan watched as several of the people visibly brightened when Anakin entered the bay, smiling when he stopped to talk to the old woman from earlier, who was sitting on one of the beds, her back straight and face calm.
“I have the scanner, Gan-Amu , when you’re ready.”
She smiled. “You should attend to the others first. I have waited a long time for this; I can wait a bit longer.”
They started with the youngest of the former slaves, a Twi’lek girl no older than four or five standard years, who hid her face in an older woman’s shoulder as Kix gently applied a local anesthetic to her arm. Anakin had insisted that none of them be put under for the procedure; they needed to see it in order to believe it, he said, and Obi-Wan could tell he spoke from experience. The thought of what his Padawan had gone through still weighed heavy on Obi-Wan’s heart, but he couldn’t deny that Anakin’s experience in this area was useful.
They moved through the group slowly, but with each removed chip Obi-Wan could feel the Force around them become lighter and lighter with their joy and relief. The chips were collected in a bag at Anakin’s waist once they were deactivated, though some of the people chose to keep them.
As each former slave was cleared by Kix, they gathered near the woman Anakin called Gan-Amu , settling in small groups on the beds and floor surrounding her. They seemed content to sit quietly, holding one another and occasionally breaking out in relieved laughter.
“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan called, and she quickly joined him from where she had been standing by Kix’s side, watching.
“Yes, Mas-- Obi-Wan?” she flinched before correcting herself, but Obi-Wan was proud- she clearly realized using the word “master” in front of this group was probably not a good idea. He sent her his approval, and she grinned at him.
“Can you please go find some water and ration bars for these people? They’re probably hungry.”
“Yes, of course!”
She dashed off, padawan beads bouncing, and he turned back to Kix and Anakin, who were helping a man whose chip appeared to be in the back of his neck. Obi-Wan could feel the anxiety coming off of him in waves, and he moved to grasp the man’s hands and attempt to comfort him.
“Can you tell us your name?” Obi-Wan murmured, as Kix disinfected the area the scanner was indicating.
“Ebra,” the man said, “like the prophet.”
“Ebra. I don’t know the story, but I would like to hear it, if I could.”
Ebra started to nod, but Kix put a warning hand on the back of his head, and he froze.
“Well, my name is Obi-Wan,” he said, to keep him distracted as Kix started to make his incision, “and you’ve met Anakin. The Togruta is Ahsoka, she’ll be back soon.”
“Anakin,” Ebra repeated, though this time it sounded like Ah-nah-keen. “ The One who Brings the Rain.”
Obi-Wan glanced up at Anakin and he smiled back, nodding. “Yes, that’s right. My mother had big plans for me, apparently.”
“Okay,” Kix said then, “the chip is out, and I just have to close this up and you’ll be done, Ebra. Just a few more minutes.”
Ebra visibly sagged in relief when Anakin handed him his decommissioned chip.
“ Lukka,” he whispered, and Anakin gripped his shoulder.
“Yes. You’re free.”
There were only a few more people to go after Ebra was finished, and they joined the group gathered on the beds and got their own bottles of water and ration bars from Ahsoka when they were done. Kix sat down heavily on a cot a few spaces down, and Obi-Wan joined him once they finally got the ship into hyperspace. They sat and watched Anakin and Ahsoka speak softly with the old woman. Ahsoka smiled and blushed slightly at something the woman said, and Anakin grabbed her in a one-armed hug, smiling proudly. Obi-Wan looked over at his companion, whose face was drawn but who had a sense of peace about him that Obi-Wan rarely felt from him, or any of them, really.
“Thank you, Kix.”
“It’s the least I could do, General.”
Obi-Wan hummed tiredly. They had spent several more hours on the planet than they had planned before finally taking off and jumping to hyperspace, but considering they hadn’t been sure what distance would do to active slave chips, whether they would have been triggered or not, it was of little concern. However, that did mean that Obi-Wan was in desperate need of a rest, as he was sure Kix and the rest of them were too. He was about to suggest they all go off to their quarters, when Anakin was suddenly there in front of him, looking hesitant in a way that was pretty rare for him.
“Obi-Wan?” Anakin said, “I was wondering… you said earlier that you wanted to learn the story of Ebra the prophet. Gan-Amu says you and Ahsoka and everyone who wants to can come and listen, if you would like.” He grinned, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I suggest you listen now- I’m not nearly as good of a storyteller as I’m sure she is, I’ll definitely butcher it if I try to tell you later.”
Obi-Wan glanced at Kix, who shrugged and stood up, offering a hand to help Obi-Wan to his feet. Anakin led them over to the group, where Ahsoka, Fives, and Rex were already waiting, kneeling on the cold durasteel amongst some of the former slaves. The little Twi’lek girl was in Anakin’s arms the second he knelt down, and he smiled softly and hugged her close.
There was a hushed anticipation hovering over their heads, and everyone turned their faces towards the old woman, sitting regally on her cot as if it were a throne. Once she saw that everyone’s eyes were on her, she cleared her throat and began to speak, her voice soft and strong.
“Listen, children, here is a story....”
The story she wove was equal parts sobering and hopeful. The children in the group hissed at the cruelty of Depur, cried at Nothing’s sadness, and laughed at Leia the Dragon drinking a cauldron full of tzai . Obi-Wan obviously didn’t know the full significance behind the story, but just watching Anakin’s face told him enough. Anakin was leaning into Ahsoka’s side with the little Twi’lek in his arms, the force around him radiating contentment and a small smile playing on his face. Obi-Wan had rarely seen his former padawan so peaceful.
The Grandmother (for the story had explained to Obi-Wan who this woman must be) told several more stories as they traveled through hyperspace, about Ar-Amu and Ekkreth and the mythology of the slave people of Tatooine. Obi-Wan had never realized exactly how deep the wellspring of Anakin’s culture must be, and his heart twinged with shame that he had never thought to ask. Qui-Gon’s sudden loss had painted those first few months as Anakin’s teacher in shades of grey, and by the time Obi-Wan had woken from the haze of his grief, Anakin had stopped wanting to discuss his mother or anything about his life on Tatooine. Obi-Wan hadn’t pushed him for information once his initial questions had received short, uninformative answers, but now he wished he had tried harder. Surely Anakin had felt alone, and scared, and cut off from his culture. Obi-Wan should have been more understanding, should have made more of an attempt to connect with him.
But now, as he considered it, he felt that maybe it wasn’t too late. After all, from what he was learning from the Grandmother’s stories, their culture was built on secrets, so for them to allow Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and the clones to be present in this moment, it must mean that Anakin felt comfortable enough around them to allow them to learn those secrets too.
Later, when everyone was slumped together on their cots and on blankets spread out to ward off the chill of space, when the medbay was filled with the soft sounds of peaceful and relieved dreams, Obi-Wan sat with his arm slung over Anakin’s shoulders, Anakin’s head pillowed on his shoulder and Ahsoka’s in his lap, and let them feel his love and contentment through their bonds. Anakin blinked up at him and whispered, “Love you, upan .”
Obi-Wan smiled. He had learned this word from the Grandmother’s stories.
Brother.