Chapter Text
44.5 BBY
Underwater Mines of Brandomeer
“- and that is the story of how Ekkreth the trickster freed the slaves with only her wit and a needle.”
“Will you tell another story, Grandmother?”
“Not now. It is almost time for the next shift, and the Depur approach.”
“Thank you for the story, Grandmother.”
“Do not thank me, child, for I only share the stories. I tell you these stories to save your life. When you are free, do not look back.”
“I will remember, Grandmother.”
“That is what I ask, child.”
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Obi-wan didn’t know how long he had been in the underwater mines of Brandomeer. Every second was both an eternity and a moment. His only measurement of time was the work rotations. Still, he knew it had been a very long time. He could scarcely remember what wind felt like, or sun. Every time he thought about it, he was brought back to when Xanatos, Master Jinn’s former Padawan, turned to the Dark, had first sold him. The man’s cruel laugh played in his mind as he remembered how Xanatos forced the bomb collar around his neck, cutting him off from the force and sealing his fate. He had been dragged away, put to work in the deep-sea mines, where he now lay, body broken and tired.
For a long time, had been sure that he would be rescued. Master Jinn was on-planet, he reasoned. He knew that Obi-wan was there too. If he didn’t show up to his posting, surely Master Jinn would know something was wrong and look for him. Obi-wan was a member of the Jedi Order, Agricorps, his mind traitorously supplied. You were rejected. No master wanted you as a padawan . it whispered, surely they would come for him.
He was soon proven to be mistaken. Obi-wan had tried to do his duty, to protect the other slaves, taking punishments for them, as a Jedi would. But he had soon stopped when he saw the damage he could do.
(He still remembered the time that he had tried to stop an overseer from raping a zabrak woman. The man had smelled foul, with a smirk to match. Two other Depur had pinned Obi-wan down, making him watch until he had exhausted himself from yelling and crying. He stopped fighting the overseers after that. He never saw the woman again, but her terrified face still haunted his dreams on occasion.)
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Obi-wan was resting in his bunk during his off shift, too weak from his shift to do much other than lay on top of the thin, rough blanket that separated him from the cold durasteel beneath, when the echoing sound of an argument reached his ears.
The yelling had been getting louder for the last few minutes, meaning that it probably wasn’t slaves who were arguing. Any rowdy slaves quickly got put down by the Depur. Common sense was telling Obi-wan to leave it alone, that he was too tired to deal with whatever was going on. Unfortunately for his common sense, Obi- wan’s curiosity was something that hadn’t been beaten out of him yet.
Slipping silently onto the floor, he wandered over the tunnel where the voices were coming from. Peeking around a corner, he saw two overseers standing in the middle of the tunnel, yelling. One of them was a burly human man that Obi-wan recognised as the head overseer of the mine. The other was a trandoshan who he didn’t recognise. Now that he was closer, Obi-wan could make out what the two were saying more clearly.
“-told you to stop scraping off the top, Denner. The higher ups are starting to notice.” the trandoshan growled.
“Why does it matter? We’ll both be pretty well-off in a few more weeks anyways. Then we can leave this dump behind us with both our pockets full. A win-win.” the human, Denner, replied, agitated.
The trandoshan snarled. “We don’t have weeks. The boss is doing inspections in the next few days. If we’re discovered, he’ll have our heads. I heard he knows weird Jedi magicks, you know? There’re stories of him killing the people who cross him without even touching them.”
“You’re just a coward. No one’s gonna find out. But if you’re so worried about it, fine. I’ll lay off for a few days. But I expect a full payment at the end of this, you hear me? I-”
Having heard enough, Obi-wan slowly backed away, not wanting to be caught, having heard what was definitely something way over his level. Suddenly, he was reminded that, due to being cut off from the force, he couldn’t sense where he was going, and he was also extremely clumsy. His foot hit a discarded piece of equipment, bringing it crashing to the floor. The sound echoed in the tunnel, startling Obi-wan so bad that his body, still weak from the day’s work, gave out, sending him to the floor. His heart began to hammer in his chest as he desperately tried to think of a way out. Unfortunately, it seemed that the two men had heard the sound.
A shadow rounded the corner, revealing the form of Denner, a scowl on his face. The trandoshan stepped out from behind him, teeth bared and glinting menacingly in the dim light of the tunnel.
“What do we have here?” The trandoshan’s voice was low, creating a terrifying hissing sound. “A little slave rat?”
Obi-wan desperately tried to scramble for an excuse, but no sound came out, his only response a strangled stutter. Denner reached out, trapping Obi-wan’s forearm in a bruising grip and easily lifting him into the air.
“How much did you hear, little rat? Denner scowled, turning to the trandoshan. “Do you know what happens with little slave rats who see things they aren’t supposed to, Grareen?” Denner glanced back at the trandoshan, Grareen. The trandoshan’s mouth split into an even more terrifying smile, the low light making the man look like something out of Obi-wan’s nightmares.
“Why, Denner, we punish them to make sure that they don’t do it again!”
“What a wonderful idea Grareen! What do you have in mind?”
“I know just the thing…” Grareen held up a hand, flexing his clawed fingers. A bolt of fear shot through Obi-wan. There were a few trandoshan overseers working in the mines, so Obi-wan wasn’t unfamiliar with what damage their sharp talons could inflict. There were many slaves who had deep, jagged wounds from their claws. Getting those infected was one of the worst things that could happen. Obi-wan squirmed and kicked, trying to break the man’s grip on his arm, but only succeeded in getting slammed against the wall. The man named Denner smirked.
“Do it. The rat won’t even think of spying again.”
Obi-wan’s eyes were wide as Grareen swiped at his face with inhuman speeds, the green claws consuming his vision.
A bolt of white pain seared through his vision.
It was the last thing he ever saw.
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“Ge- -lp!”
“Hol- on kid!”
“Grand-”
“-ere!”
“Han- me -andage.”
“-acta tank.”
“Hi- eyes-”
“I -ow.”
“Ar-Amu protect you, little one.”
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Obi-wan awoke to the sound of hushed whispers and the scent of cheap bacta filling his nostrils. He could feel a type of covering over his head. They covered the entire front of his face, tight and heavy. There seemed to be multiple people in his vicinity, but it was hard to tell. The slave quarters were very echoey. He felt wrong, somehow. It was like he was floating in a pool of water while a fire roared inside his ears.
As he was trying to get up, he wondered how long he was out. The Masters would have woken him up if he had slept for too long. They wouldn’t let him miss his shift because he was tired. He was surprised when he was abruptly pushed down, a voice he recognised speaking softly to him.
“Lay down child.”
“But Grandmother-” Obi-wan protested.
“No. You need your rest.”
“But the work shifts-”
“How do you expect to work when you can’t see, silly boy?”
What?
A rock of ice settled in Obi-wan’s gut. Cold realization rolled off him, his mind finally catching up to why he felt so off. In the mines, it was common to work in low light and almost pitch-black. But this was different. It was like there was no light at all. It was an all-consuming darkness, like looking into a gravity well. Raising a shaking hand, he placed his palm overwhere his eyes should be. They touched a bandage instead. His hand was slightly sticky. The blood, his blood, bleeding through the bacta patch and bandages that covered both his eyes. Suddenly, he remembered.
Denner and Grareen.
Sharp claws.
White then black, then PAIN PAIN PAIN-
He took in a shaking breath, bringing his attention to the present before he spiraled any further. “Grandmother?” it wasn’t a question, not really, but the older woman understood. Obi-wan had the feeling that she was grimacing.
“The Depur struck directly at your eyes. Nearly took your entire face with them. We… I’m so sorry child. They were completely destroyed. Removal was the safest option.”
Obi-wan nodded. He understood. Open wounds were dangerous in the mines. Slaves died all the time from infection. Having an infection in his eyes would surely be deadly.
“They’re all gone?”
“We removed what we could, severed most of the nerves. You’re lucky the Masters let you have some bacta, or you would surely be dead now. The bleeding has mostly stopped, but there is nothing left.”
Straight and to the point. That’s one reason he liked Grandmother. A sturdy lasat woman, she had no Name other than Grandmother, having given up any others long ago. Her hands were rough from decades of servitude, but she held Obi-wan with the same care one would give a youngling. Melting into her embrace, Obi-wan noticed that he had been trembling. Grandmother placed a gentle paw over his head, pulling him closer. She began to hum a song. Its tune was prohibited and its words were forbidden, but the Amavikka sang it anyways. It was their way to rebel. Their way to break free.
As the melody filled his mind, Obi-wan had one last thought before he fell asleep.
I can’t cry anymore.