The life of a slave, for the most part, is not filled with bright colors and an abundance of pleasant moments. Complete submission to the master, hard labor, and often immoral instructions from the lords, the existence of a disenfranchised thing awaiting death or resale to a new owner. This is how most slaves lived in those regions of the galaxy where slavery was not prohibited.
Tatooine was no different from such worlds, where Anakin Skywalker was born and raised. From birth, he was a slave, and although Watto was not the worst master, the very fact of being owned by a Toydarian, coupled with the attitude of those around him, could not help but affect the boy.
The desire to escape the hated desert planet, to travel the galaxy and enjoy freedom, coexisted with hatred for the slave trade and everyone associated with it. The thirst to help others, to become a hero, liberator, and protector for them, inevitably led to anger and cruelty towards oppressors, pirates, and criminals of all stripes.
Skywalker was emotionally unstable. His mentor saw this during their first joint meditation session, when the child opened up to the former Jedi and allowed him to look into his mind. Anakin needed to be trained carefully, and first and foremost, he needed to be shown how to resist the Dark Side, which was ready to exploit the slightest weakness and cloud the mind of the gifted at any moment.
And, it must be admitted, the lessons were fruitful. The boy became more confident and calmer, regular training and meditation strengthened his body and spirit.
The child himself noticed this. That's why he hurried to take everything he needed for training as soon as he had the opportunity. Fortunately, it wasn't far from the palace, where the crew of the "Eagle" was temporarily housed, to the hangars where the aforementioned ship was located. The loyal astromech R2 volunteered to accompany the young adventurer.
The alarm signal caught Anakin already on the cargo ramp of the "Eagle."
The young man turned around with alarm, surveying the vast space of interconnected hangars and several landing platforms. The roar of explosions sounded. Mercenaries with weapons in hand suddenly appeared out of nowhere, some of whom looked like Mandalorians. At least, their armor was appropriate.
"Ad'ika, slana'pir!" shouted a guard passing by, one of the local "police," to Skywalker.
And in the next second, the poor fellow, whose words Anakin didn't understand because he didn't know Mandalorian, had his legs torn off by a nearby grenade explosion.
Screams of horror and pain filled the boy's mind. He stood and watched the agony of the wounded Mandalorian, unable to look away. His body was numb and refused to obey his mind, which was literally screaming that he needed to run and hide immediately.
The astromech, having perfectly recognized the guard's words, which meant "Child, get out of here!", noticed that Anakin had fallen into a stupor, and therefore hurried to grab the young man by the belt with its manipulator and deliver him to the "Eagle."
They didn't make it. Someone from those attacking the royal hangars noticed the boy and the droid. Three thugs detached themselves from the enemy forces.
Fortunately, Skywalker was already starting to come to his senses. His leg, bruised on a protrusion on the ramp, made Anakin pull himself together. The pain reminded the frightened boy that he was still alive, and if he wanted to continue in the same vein, he should save himself!
And the first thing to do was to calm down and start thinking with his head!
Recalling his teacher's instructions, Skywalker took several deep breaths, trying to at least slightly expel the adrenaline from his blood, which hindered his concentration. It wasn't going well, but his brain began to function a little better.
Continuing his peculiar breathing exercises, the boy reached his "training room" in the cargo hold of the "Eagle." The blasters used by the maniacal droid for "training" were locked in boxes, depriving Anakin of the chance to use them. However, a pair of vibroblades, which the boy had been practicing with for quite some time, were on an open rack.
Angry voices and the chirping of the astromech were heard from the ramp. The crackle of R2's discharge and a cry of pain that reached Skywalker's ears made the young Force adept grab one of the blades and activate it. The hum of the activated vibroblade and the barely discernible trembling of the blade joined the cacophony of sounds.
A series of blaster shots and something like a cry in binary language meant that Anakin had lost his protector and was left alone with an unknown number of opponents.
Never before, until this day, had Skywalker actively used Force abilities in practice... consciously, at least. Only under the mentor's supervision. But everything happens for the first time. Especially since the young man didn't have much of a choice. It was unlikely that those who killed the Duchess's loyal Mandalorians outside would make an exception for a foreign child!
Standing closer to the boxes, behind which he could quickly hide if necessary, if the Force did not respond, Anakin took a deep breath and focused on infusing his body with the Force's energy. It was frankly going poorly. Unnecessary thoughts constantly intruded into his head. Some part of Skywalker craved to punish those who dared to frighten the child. He wanted to tear them apart! Destroy them! Make them beg for mercy while he slowly squeezed their hearts...
"No!" Anakin shook his head.
His mentor had warned him about the danger of using the Force when the mind and body are overcome by fear. It only attracts the Dark Side. Fear turns into anger, which can indeed strengthen the body and give a chance to defeat the opponent, but Skywalker was not sure he could maintain his sanity if that happened.
There was no more time; a figure in Mandalorian armor appeared in the opening.
In the opponent's hands was a blaster carbine, its barrel already aimed at Anakin. And Revan's student took a risk. With a wave of his hand, he helped himself visualize a firm command that he gave to the Force surrounding him. Obeying the wave of a child's palm, the blaster left the Mandalorian's grip, causing him to stumble forward after his weapon. The carbine flew into a far corner of the compartment.
"Ge'hutuun!" roared the Mandalorian and drew a vibroknife from his belt.
After arriving on Mandalore, Anakin began to pester his mentor with requests to tell him more about the local inhabitants, and one day he generously shared an interesting story about the culture and history of the once formidable people. And a special place in the story was given to Mandalorian armor, which held many surprises.
Apparently, the opponent, who decided to stab the impudent boy with a vibroknife, although quite intimidating in appearance, did not see much of a threat in Skywalker, even after he snatched the weapon from his hands. Otherwise, he would have acted much faster.
Anakin let the stream of flame that burst from the Mandalorian's wrist guard pass by, circling the opponent in an arc, as HK had taught him. Yes, the droid, despite its continuous attempts to kill Skywalker or drive him to suicide, occasionally gave valuable advice regarding countering armed opponents.
To the Mandalorian's surprise, the seemingly terrified child suddenly began to move with incredible speed. The young representative of one of the radical clans that joined Death Watch encountered a Force-sensitive for the first time and was therefore unprepared for the surprises that the Force allowed its adepts to arrange. Before he could turn to the opponent who had lightning-fast shifted to the side, the wrist guard with the flamethrower received a blow from the vibroblade and ceased to function. The boy's next lunge could only be blocked with his own vibroblade.
Skywalker, having already mastered some of the basic movements of Shii-Cho, managed to surprise the enemy again. And although a vibroblade is not a lightsaber, it is quite capable of piercing the vulnerable spots of armor. Bumping into the Mandalorian's block, Anakin changed the direction of his attack and shifted slightly to the side, preventing the opponent from taking a comfortable position. Then the young student rushed forward, slipping past his opponent, as his mentor often did in training duels with Maul. An unimaginably fast strike with the sword held in both hands hit precisely the back of the Mandalorian's knee, where the leg was covered only by fabric armor, which could not withstand the vibrations of the razor-sharp blade.
The opponent fell to one knee, exposing himself for a new attack, which the former slave from Tatooine took advantage of. A thrusting blow hit the Mandalorian's neck, and a subsequent slashing blow almost separated the opponent's head from his body.
Scarlet blood splattered into Skywalker's face, causing him to recoil and frantically wipe his eyes, regaining his vision. But it would have been better if he hadn't done it and hadn't seen the convulsing body of the gasping Mandalorian, from whose severed throat blood spurted in spurts. The impact damaged the helmet's fastenings, causing it to fall off the head of the agonizing enemy, revealing the eyes full of horror of a young guy, barely five years older than Anakin himself.
The sight of the dying opponent plunged Skywalker into a stupor. The vibroblade fell from Anakin's hands, and he himself sank to his knees, exhausted. Tears suddenly flowed from his eyes for no apparent reason. He wasn't sorry for the Mandalorian who had tried to kill him, was he? Then why did his chest suddenly ache so much?
"Bastard!" someone's voice rang out from the entrance to the compartment.
Anakin found the source of the noise. It turned out to be another Mandalorian. The young Force adept suddenly realized that he was about to die. He had no strength left to defend himself. His weapon lay on the floor, and his legs refused to obey. But for some reason, there was no fear. As if the thought of death was just a foolish fantasy, and the situation itself was some intricate and terrifyingly realistic dream. Everything would be fine...
The barrel of the blaster was already rising, aiming directly at Anakin's chest, when suddenly the Mandalorian twitched, spread his arms wide, and rose slightly above the ground, gasping desperately. A nasty crunch sounded, and the new opponent's body flew backward out of the compartment.
"Anakin! Are you alright!" Revan burst into the training room, his lightsaber deactivated, a light smoke still rising from its hilt.
"Teacher... it hurts," Skywalker moaned and fell forward, right into his mentor's arms.
The compartment door was already blocked by HK, who had checked the bodies of the killed Mandalorians with a control shot.
"Quiet, boy, quiet. It will all pass now," Revan whispered, literally enveloping the student with waves of his Force, isolating the boy's perception.
The former Jedi perfectly understood what was happening to the child. Besides the fact that he had consciously taken someone's life for the first time, and in close combat at that, Skywalker fully felt the death of his opponent, which echoed through the Force. He didn't know how to close himself off from such an impact yet, as Revan didn't think the boy would have to fight so soon. And he should have. Revan realized his mistake. After all, he was teaching his protégé not in the "greenhouse" conditions of the Temple, but in the not-so-calm part of the galaxy.
But everything was for the best. Anakin would remember these sensations, accept them, and understand what it means to take someone's life. This would become another stopper that would prevent the Chosen One from losing his sanity or becoming a sociopathic maniac indifferent to someone's death.
After all, after destroying the Neimoidian station above Naboo, Anakin felt no remorse, even though he understood that on board the Trade Federation ship, besides droids, there were hundreds of sentient beings. War and the salvation of innocents can be a good justification that will cover you from the law and calm your conscience. But what if in the future there is no such justification? Death should not become commonplace for Skywalker. Revan would not want to kill his own student, who had become a new Vitiate.
"Alert: Master, the fighting outside is subsiding. The enemy is either retreating or destroyed," HK's enthusiastic voice rang out from the compartment entrance.
The assassin droid was clearly enjoying what was happening.
"What about R2?" Revan replied, carefully lifting his sleeping student into his arms.
"Observation: Minor chassis damage. Main power module disabled. Computational unit is intact, Master."
"Good. So, it can be restored without loss of personality," the former Jedi concluded.
"Affirmative, Master."
By the time Revan and HK left the "Eagle," the fighting in the hangars had already ended.
Sevras Nomad was waiting near the former Jedi's ramp. The clan leader, related to Ordo, with his appearance and grin, not hidden under his helmet due to the absence of armor, resembled another Mandalorian who had accompanied Revan on his wanderings in the distant past.
"What about the guy?" Sevras asked grimly.
"He killed the attacker, miscalculated his strength, and passed out," the former Sith replied briefly.
His interlocutor nodded, accepting the explanation.
"Whatever the attackers were trying to achieve, they failed," Nomad stated.
"Why are you so sure?" Revan asked, surprised.
"Out of almost two hundred attackers, mostly Black Sun mercenaries, less than thirty managed to escape. If this isn't a failure, then their commander is an idiot. Wasting such forces at the very beginning of the conflict is simply foolish and short-sighted."
"It seems their goal was to capture the hangars, to deprive us of any air support," came the voice of Ala Daruk, who was approaching the "Eagle" accompanied by the "defector" who had helped repel the attack.
The mercenary's silver armor from Clan Fett had only a couple of scorch marks, unlike Daruk's armor, which was pierced in several places. The militia leader was pressing a bandaged wound on her side, wincing in pain.
"That was the plan that the intermediary between the mercenaries and Death Watch told us," Fett, the mercenary, explained the Mandalorians' confidence.
"Who are you?" Revan asked harshly, his grin hidden by a mask.
"This is Jango Fett, the head... and the last representative of Clan Fett," Daruk replied for the mercenary.
The former Jedi suppressed a slight satisfaction that the descendants and kin of the thrice-cursed Cassus Fett were on the verge of oblivion.
Still, this mercenary had helped them and deserved better treatment.
"Thank you for your help," Revan nodded, still holding Skywalker in his arms.
"Jango Fett," Nomad said with a smile.
"Sevras," the mercenary nodded in greeting.
"I didn't think the chosen one of the 'True' Mandalorians, who abandoned his people, would dare to return!" Sevras suddenly roared, his smile disappearing.
"I wasn't going to wear that title after Jaster's death. I had no choice. And I know there is another ruler on Mandalore," Fett replied calmly.
"Ran away, leaving everything in the hands of a foolish girl!" Nomad cut him off.
"After Galidraan, I wouldn't have brought you any good," Jango shook his head.
"You..." Sevras took a step towards Fett, but Daruk blocked his path.
"Calm down, Nomad. Although he has many faults, many in the militia still consider him the chosen one of Mandalore. And he has returned, hasn't he?"
All eyes turned to the mercenary in the silver armor. Even the militiamen passing by, dragging the bodies of their fallen comrades to an improvised morgue, stopped and listened to the conversation.
Fett glanced at everyone, his gaze lingering briefly on Revan, and nodded.
"I was on Nar Shaddaa when I received a contract to work in the Mandalorian sector. And when I learned the details from my informants, I simply couldn't stand aside. So I hired myself as a freelance shooter in one of the groups controlled by Black Sun. And here I am," Fett briefly recounted the story of his arrival on his homeland.
"And now what?" asked one of the militiamen who had defended the hangars.
"Will you lead Mandalore instead of the Duchess?" added another Mandalorian.
"It's unlikely to be wise now," Revan remarked.
"Why? If the chosen one of Mandalore joins us, it could encourage some of the clans supporting Vizsla to switch sides. After all, many joined Death Watch only because of Kryze's policies," Daruk noted.
"Duchess Satine has already changed her policy, but I don't see a queue of people wanting to join us," Nomad snorted.
"Don't underestimate Mandalore's influence!" Ala roared.
"Oh, I know perfectly well what Mandalore is capable of and the limits of his influence. Obsession with his figure almost destroyed our people in the past. Or has everyone forgotten what happened to the clans after we were deprived of the 'Mask'?"
Revan involuntarily shivered. After all, it was he who had taken the Mandalorian Mask in his time, when he defeated the High Mandalorian in battle and ended the Mandalorian Wars in the Battle of Malachor V.
"With a single leader, we can become one people again!" Daruk insisted.
Revan suddenly understood why she had so zealously supported him at the council. In him, she saw a potential new Mandalore, who at some point would simply replace Kryze with the support of the clans. But now, a more suitable candidate had appeared.
Well, allies almost always have disagreements and friction. The former Jedi had encountered this more than once.
"If he replaces Kryze, Mandalore will be finished! The Republic will simply use the pretext of a civil war to completely destroy our people!" Nomad pointed out the obvious development of events.
"These are just assumptions!" Ala retorted.
"It's a fact," Revan suddenly interjected.
All eyes now turned to the former commander of the Republic fleet.
"Why should we believe you? You're almost a Jetii yourself!" she pointed to the lightsaber hanging on his belt.
"Because I know the Republic. And I know the Jedi. The strengthening of Mandalore and the change of its ruler will not be left unnoticed. There will be no war. There will be a new Purge. This time, the last one," Revan replied calmly, ignoring the jab.
"He's right," Sevras supported the former Jedi.
"I..." Daruk started to object, but Fett interrupted her.
"I think so too," he said.
"What?" the militia leader stared at Jango with a bewildered look.
"I have also met Jedi in my path. And I have studied them well. They will do as the Senate commands. They will carry out any order. And our people are inherently criminals and murderers to them," Fett said measuredly, looking directly into Revan's mask's visor.
The former Sith had no doubt that, despite the fact that their faces were hidden by masks and helmets, they were looking each other directly in the eyes.
"Only a few among them are capable of thinking for themselves. But even they cannot restrain the hotheads of the propaganda-fed youth. Galidraan demonstrated this well," Fett continued.
Revan nodded almost imperceptibly.
Jango repeated his movement. Despite their mutual dislike, which both acknowledged, Fett and Revan understood each other and were ready to cooperate. It was as if a silent dialogue had taken place between them, during which all disagreements were cast aside for a common goal - to save Mandalore.
And even if each had their own motives, at that moment they were on the same side.
"I am ready to listen to your plan, dar'jetii. And I will help in any way I can," Jango assured Revan.
Revan himself was already mentally making adjustments to his plans. After all, when you get such a card in your hands, you can't lose a game of Pazaak.