dryskies_btb
patreon
KYBER-PUNK 22BBY Ch.29
🕑 Added 2025-10-24 23:55:19 +0000 UTC[A Necessary Awakening]
— Padme —
“Come with me. I think you need to see exactly what we’re fighting. And thus, all we’re fighting for.”
Padme wasn’t given the chance to respond to that statement, especially not when Atom turned right around on his heel and began stalking off like a predator. Not angry, not frustrated, not snapping at her for daring to challenge his way of things. Just… blunt. Direct in his preferred solutions. Just determined to make his arguments with plain realities, not the debate she was used to.
Padme could only follow. This wasn’t the way she expected their initial conversation to go, but he was still engaging with her. He didn’t laugh at her goals, or immediately send her and her mission packing. Whatever he intended to show her, it was in good faith to the issue she pressed.
She wasn’t so stubborn as to ignore what he felt she needed to see. And certainly not dismiss it in some holier-than-thou display, as some Core Worlders might.
The others followed as well, but they faded from Padme’s focus. This initial conversation was a test of wills and worldviews between her and Atom. She wouldn’t turn away. No, she’d meet it with all that she was — an open mind and a firm belief in peace in her heart.
Atom led them down through the massive hangar building to the ground floor. There, he chose a speeder that could carry everyone. It was more of a hauler than any luxury speeder Padme would’ve seen on Coruscant. A brutal and improvised thing of function over form, with armor plates slapped on with scrappy artistry and a heavy blaster mounted on the roof.
The passenger seats in the back were surprisingly spacious and well-outfitted, but Padme purposefully took a seat up front, on a wide bench in the pilot’s compartment next to Atom. He meant to show her something. She would see it. Adorably, Ani insisted on joining her and Atom up there, packing all three of them on the bench shoulder-to-shoulder (and… hip-to-hip…).
Bail and Obi-Wan settled for the passenger compartment behind them (sharing strange looks of amusement for some reason), along with their other hosts and the Jedi already seemingly attached to them. Padme hadn’t had much time to ponder the implications of the latter yet, but it certainly meant something that the Gonks could boast the ‘unofficial’ company of two Jedi Knights and a mysteriously legendary Master.
Atom directed them out of the hangar and up into the skylanes. Padme was treated to her second look at the city hosting them for their mission. Night City, home of Atom and his Gonk Cartel and the driving force behind the rather spectacular change that had rocked Nar Shaddaa…
It looked much like any other city-planet, urban sprawl as far as the eye could see. But Padme could never have mistaken it for Coruscant. The upper levels of Coruscant that she was most familiar with were even more dense and busy than Night City, but it was an ordered density. Here, chaos seemed to reign just as much as order.
‘But it’s far from pure anarchy as some would imagine Nar Shaddaa,’ Padme mused. ‘More… simply alive. Natural and flexible in its development. A unique people and their unique home, unbowed, unbent, and unbroken in so many ways, and eager to show themselves to the galaxy.’
She kept her silence during their flight to Atom’s destination, but also kept her head held high. Instead of merely watching the home of their hosts pass by through the glass, she did her best to see all she could. This was the environment that had shaped something special and utterly unprecedented. This was the forge of their hosts and all the change they brought to the rest of their moon and beyond. Padme did her best to truly appreciate that.
Atom seemed more than content in the silence up front, and while Ani was fidgeting slightly, Padme was also content to use the silence to put her thoughts in order.
Almost immediately, Padme was finding her mission into Hutt Space… much more complicated than she expected. And that was a feat. She’d gone in expecting complications. Her goal of achieving peace in a war-torn region of space would never be a simple blue milk run.
But as Padme told Atom, they must always try.
At the very least, she could say she wasn’t being dismissed. Not at all. Atom and other key figures in the ‘Gonk Cartel’ (and weren’t the Jedi they had on their side a surprise…) had come to greet her, Bail, Obi-Wan, and Ani in person. Considering how busy their schedules must’ve been after taking over a moon like Nar Shaddaa, that was no small allowance. Padme, of course, had no intentions to waste the opportunity.
Atom was… about what she expected from her (very thorough) prior research efforts. Only… more. He carried himself with a heaviness of aura, a significance of purpose, and a revolutionary nature at his core. Every word from his lips seemed to hit like a physical blow. Padme found that she couldn’t help but give him her fullest attention from the very first moment she saw him.
Perhaps that statement was truer than she would openly admit… After all, the first time she saw him, even if it wasn’t in person, he’d very much piqued her interest. Then, completely captured her attention, practically held her mind in his hands from across the galaxy…
A nude, violent, and unprecedented introduction tended to do that. That broadcast of self-baring, Hutt-killing, grudge-declaring, table-turning contents. The first the galaxy had seen of Atom — all of him, from the very start —, but certainly not the last.
She’d studied each of his appearances, every bit of information that made its way out into the galaxy at large. By the time they set out from Coruscant, Padme could’ve picked his handsomely grim and striking features out of a crowd. Of course, that had meant rewatching that first broadcast more than a few times… But it wasn’t the only thing she’d researched!
No… No, of course not… First impressions and galactic introductions were simply important; that was all. They spoke… volumes. Huge, heavy, and hypnotizing volumes that dangled, flopped, and smacked around as he moved in terribly captivating ways…
Now, having met him in person, Padme could say that those first impressions — in all of their naked, paradigm-shifting glory — hadn’t been far from her mind. He was dressed perfectly decent, of course, unlike back then. But what were mere clothes before the betrayal of an unfortunately active imagination?
… Very little, Padme could answer now. Still, she was here on a mission, bearing the heavy weight of duty, responsibility, and peace on her shoulders. As best she could, she’d shoved her active imagination to the fringes of her mind. The naked and not-so-noble first impressions were far from the only of Atom’s appearances that captivated her attention.
He’d accomplished truly mind-boggling feats in his short time on the galactic stage. Declaring outright war against the Hutt Cartels as a whole on Nar Shaddaa, fighting and winning that war, freeing slaves — the whole moon, really, as the new name of ‘Free Nar Shaddaa’ proclaimed —, and largely, just taking the established status quo of so many millennia and tearing it up with his own two hands.
Just as much as she researched his appearances and character, Padme followed all of his feats, all he set in motion, all he led and changed. Atom was no small man (in many ways…). He wasn’t one to accept what everyone else considered ‘normal’. Not when he could do things differently, to hell with the costs.
Going in, Padme knew she had her work cut out for her. Securing the peace and harmony and sanctity of all sentient life that their shared galaxy deserved would never be easy. It would be the most trying test of her will and beliefs. Perhaps it was even impossible…
Padme set out anyway, with her goal firmly in mind, for they must always try.
She wasn’t alone. Bail was with her, sharing her conviction for peace, even if he’d also shared his most pragmatic thoughts with her, saying they would likely need a miracle. Still, he put his faith in her (“If anyone can, Padme, it’s you.”) and freely lent all the resources he had at his disposal.
Those resources were no small boon, considering the frankly frightening competence that Bail’s mysterious Alderaan Espionage Corps could bring to bear. On the last day before they were due to depart Coruscant, Bail had given Padme a taste of the fruits of his many spies’ labor. Somehow, the Alderaan Espionage Corps managed to get a large number of covert, otherwise unseen holo-pics of Atom and his daily routine. Padme, of course, put them to very good use in her research.
Obi-Wan and Ani were with her, too, by her side again, just as they’d been during the Liberation of Naboo. The Sith Slayer, tested so terribly then, but now, emerged stronger and more composed for it. And the Heroine of Naboo, little Ani, all grown up and blooming into all Padme had always known she could be. Padme counted them as a sort of nostalgic comfort, for this mission may very well live up to the trial of liberating her homeworld.
Thus, it was… a rather great relief to be together again…
Best of all, Padme had… someone — somewhat — on the inside. She must’ve exchanged megabytes worth of Hyper-Comm Online DMs with CyberkittySash — or just Sasha, now that they’d met in person. She’d been instrumental in Padme’s research for this mission and in forming her mental picture of the enigmatic force of nature named Atom. All of that prior conversation had been productive… just some parts in very different ways than others.
She tried not to linger on the more uniquely productive parts of those conversations… But sat next to Atom now, shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip, it was… a difficult task. In the passenger compartment behind them, Padme knew Sasha must’ve been smirking like a cat with a plan. She just hoped that plan was, err… productive. Yes, productive to all, not just Sasha’s strange, tantalizing, and wicked view on romance.
Night City certainly did things in unique ways, Padme mused, stifling a not-at-all-sensual shudder. Who could’ve anticipated that Atom’s ‘input’ would be so… open…? She’d been eager to answer Padme’s every question about Atom, oftentimes even providing ‘proof’. Those conversations had been rather… distracting from Padme’s planning of this mission, as a result. But she wasn’t about to give in to that distraction, not now. Her diplomatic work and responsibility and peace here came first; that much Padme was firm on.
Outside the front viewscreen, their speeder flight came to the edge of Night City. Glass and steel and lively urban spaces turned to a sort of urban badlands. The windows were dark here, and the buildings were massive, destitute monuments. Neon advertisements and flashing lights of life and busyness faded to a different kind of living, the kind on the fringes of an already fringed society.
“The Limits,” Atom explained, noticing her curiosity. “Our Nomads call this stretch home. It’s far from dead, as it might look. Just… different from the core of Night City.”
“The Nomads?” Ani asked.
“Nomads,” Atom grunted with a nod. “They’re more ‘clan’ than ‘gang’, and live lives of movement, freedom, and constantly shifting circumstances. Whole hordes of them will take to the stars or venture deeper into Nar Shaddaa or just keep on the move in the Limits. They make up a significant majority of our Gonk Fleet.”
“They don’t have a place to call home?” Padme wondered with a slight frown. “That must be a sad existence.”
Atom shook his head, “No matter where they are, they carry Night City with ‘em. They’re more at home in their vics, anyway, living and breathing scrap and oil and speed.”
“Wizard…” Ani exhaled, a grin coming over her face. “How are the swoopbike races out here?”
“Better than anything you’ve got in the Core, I can guarantee that,” Atom grinned back. “Got a taste for speed, Miss Jedi?”
Ani rolled her eyes, “It’s Ani. And yeah, I might. I’ll fly circles around your Nomads.”
“Well, let me know if you end up partaking,” Atom said. “I’ll want to bet on you and earn myself some spending scratch.”
“Obi-Wan would not approve,” Ani warned, still grinning.
Padme giggled at her younger friend’s excitement, advising, “Call it ‘cultural bonding’, Ani. That should give him some pause, at least.”
The excitement and internal laughter coming off Ani at that idea was practically a scent in the air, “Wizard.”
“Night City has always been unique, even on Nar Shaddaa,” Atom continued now that the silence between them had been broken. “Some consider us the Human Sector of the moon, but I like to think we’re more. We’re almost entirely human, sure, but the distinction goes deeper than that.
“We’ve got our chrome, our violence, our edgerunning, our street culture, and even our corpo culture. It’s like nowhere else. We keep to ourselves, run things ourselves, and like it that way. That’s changing, ‘course, but even before, the rest of Nar Shaddaa had trouble getting past the Night City Limits. Even the Hutts, for the most part — good or bad — Night City has always stood alone. But now, that means we’ve gotta get out into the rest of the moon to show you what you need to see, Senator.”
“You claimed to be showing me what you were fighting for,” Padme noted. “Does that mean you don’t fight for Night City?”
Atom snorted, “Barely need to. Night City fights for itself, and they don’t need an excuse or cause for that. If the slugs hadn’t fucked with us, we would’ve been more than happy to keep things within the Limits. It’s the rest of the moon that needs fightin’ for.”
Padme blinked at that statement, trying to parse its layers. Atom was saying… that Night City would’ve fought regardless? And that he just gave them an external outlet? That it stood on its own, and now, was standing for the rest of Nar Shaddaa, too?
“Nar Shaddaa… needs fighting for…?” She muttered curiously.
“‘Cause of the Hutts,” Atom nodded. “They’re a crushing weight. A chain around the moon’s neck, around every neck they loom over. And I’ll show you why they’re worth fighting to the last.”
Padme remained skeptical. As awful as the Hutts might be, she couldn’t conscience violence on this scale. It didn’t — couldn’t — solve problems in her mind. Only make more. But deep inside, uncertainty was already stirring. Out here, in lawless Hutt Space, could it possibly be the only way to make things better…?
Strangely, Ani was nodding with complete, somber understanding. But then, she’d lived a very different life from Padme’s. Padme could recognize that, at least. She’d never been a slave, like Ani, never even met a Hutt. Still, she wasn’t ready to give up her true belief that the galaxy was better than this. And if it wasn’t, it was up to all of them to make it so.
‘We must always try.’
Padme was still torn when Atom landed the speeder, but she was also trying her best to take strength from that internal conflict. If she gave up on peace at the first sign of strife, it was hardly worth anything at all.
“C’mon, we’re walking the rest of the way,” Atom said.
Everyone poured out of the transport speeder, and Sstala — the secretary-type who looked more competent than Sabe, if Padme was being honest with herself — said, “Sir, this isn’t the tour as we had loosely agreed on it.”
“Change of plans,” Atom replied. “I think it’s best if we establish all of the facts of our sitch before anything else. Pleasantries, all that gomi, can come later.”
“Where exactly are you taking us?” Obi-Wan asked.
“To our Freest Legion and our Freed,” Atom answered grimly. “You’ll get the whole story of the Hutts straight from the lips of those crushed most beneath their bulk.”
Ani sucked in a sharp breath and didn’t seem to be able to find any words beyond that. Immediately, Obi-Wan was at her side with a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“The slaves you’ve freed in your… dare I say, crusade against the Hutts?” Bail asked.
Sasha giggled, “Heh, crusade. That’s a fun word for it.”
“They started as that,” Atom said. “The Freed were the first. They gave me the key to break chains. The Freest Legion came after, and that one’s all down to Podry. He was a slave in some slug’s fighting pits. Fighting was all he knew. So that’s what he did — fight, leading his brothers and sisters right behind him.”
“Now, however,” Sstala picked up where Atom left off. “With the establishment of Free Nar Shaddaa, both… sects of freedom have become something more. Essentially, the Freed have become been organizing wide-scale relief and rehabilitation for all of the former slaves on the moon. And the Freest Legion, while still working closely on the frontlines, has joined those efforts whenever they’re not called into combat.”
Atom was stalking off again, walking with those unstoppable strides of his. Padme hurried to join him at the front of the group, smiling so wide her face almost hurt.
“That’s amazing! See? Violence isn’t the only way to affect real change for those who need it.”
“Violence is what made these relief efforts possible, Senator,” Atom grunted.
“Please, call me Padme,” Padme allowed. “And I can’t help but disagree! You could’ve organized something like this from the start!”
“Yeah?” Atom side-eyed her. “And what about when the slugs came and slaughtered everyone — man, woman, child, free or not — for ‘daring’ to even think about anything but their superior masters?”
Padme stumbled at the mental picture, coming up pale, “That-… I-…”
“That,” Atom said pointedly. “Is what the fighting is for. I’m not stupid enough to think violence solves every problem, Padme. But it certainly gives us the chance to begin solving problems the right way.”
“Could you not… buy out each slave peacefully and free them that way…?” Padme desperately reached for another solution.
“With what billions of credits?” Atom shot back. “All of the scratch we have now comes from the Hutts, ‘cause, ya know, we’re at war with them. Would you have us rob them blind without that justification? You’re fine with that kind of violence? Economic violence? It’s certainly the language of violence that the Hutts speak best. I’m sure they would’ve loved us to meet them only on that battlefield, so they could ruin us and half the galactic economy as collateral damage in the process.”
“And what about when the masters don’t want to sell, Padme?” Ani asked softly beside her. “Watto didn’t. It took extreme circumstances to free me, and Mom’s still back in that Hell…”
“I-…” Padme fell silent, unable to formulate a worthwhile response. They were right, and quietly, she could admit that. “… You’re right. Slavery is perhaps the hardest issue to find a peaceful solution to.”
“Chains are the beginning and end of Hutt oppression, the backdrop to everything they are,” Atom growled, and Padme could hear his rightful fury at the topic. “But they’re far from everything that makes the Hutts so abominable. You’re about to hear firsthand just how much worse they can get.”
Already, Padme knew this would be a terribly enlightening experience — in the best and worst of ways. But she would face it head-on, with not just an open mind, but an open heart, too. These survivors deserved nothing less.
Walking the streets of Nar Shaddaa, Atom was recognized by — quite literally — every person they passed. They made way for him. Some cheered his name or titles (“Slug Slayer! FREE GONKS!”). And some even outright bowed to him. Atom didn’t acknowledge any of the attention, marching forward like a man on a mission, but he especially didn’t acknowledge the last.
“It’s because we’re so close to the Freed Refuge,” Gloria explained.
“Yeah,” Sasha snorted a laugh. “In Night City, you wouldn’t catch anyone, even our hardest hardcore Gonks, bowing. Not our culture.”
Master Fay sadly shook her head, and wisely said, “It is an artifact of a culture, though. A terribly prevalent culture here, of which some aspects are harder to break than others, even as circumstances change. Sometimes, all one knows how to do is bow…”
Ani winced as that statement struck true. Padme’s heart ached at the sight. Those scars from her youth remained, even as a Jedi, and likely always would.
“You know, as awful as the implications are, it’s not a bad thing to have such public sentiment behind you,” Bail commented, something of a test in his words that Padme noticed. “They’re recognizing all that you’ve done for them. I know many who would kill for that recognition, earned or… not.”
“Yeah, ‘recognizing’, and showing it the only way they know how,” Atom scowled, frustration not with those who bowed, but why they did. “We’re working on it. One day, no one will bow to me. And I’ll be happier for it.”
Bail nodded, satisfied with Atom’s response, “That makes you a better man than most, Atom.”
Atom kept his face straight forward and his strides steady, “… Whatever. I just want to be able to walk the streets without worrying about someone literally breaking their back to fawn over me.”
He pulled ahead, walking as if he hadn’t just turned down the adoration of a whole moon. Padme could only stare after him, enthralled. Until, that is, Sasha skipped up behind her, leaned over her shoulder, and made Padme jump slightly.
“Tsun-tsun~dere-dere, neh? Didn’t I tell you, girlie? There’s a heart of golden chrome beneath all that iron and violence.”
“Indeed,” Padme nodded absently. “It’s certainly… something…”
“Starting to see what you’ve got to work with?”
“Perhaps. I can see why you follow him so devotedly, at least.”
“Heh~… We’ll make a Gonk out of you yet, Padme.”
“Oh, I doubt that much… But I can see that all he does, he does out of true belief. He lives and breathes all the change he brings about.”
“Play hard to get all you want, girlie~…” Sasha teased. “We’ll win you over.”
She left it at that, sounding so confident. Almost smug. Padme… deeply doubted that she would leave her duty to peace and democracy and the Republic, but… stranger things had happened. Not many, but they had.
As best she could, Padme pushed the thoughts of running away from all her responsibilities, like something straight out of a flimsy bodice ripper, to join a criminal organization (even if it was affecting real change…) from her mind. It simply wasn’t in her cards. Her place was with the Republic, working to change the system from the inside before it failed so terribly. Her place was doing the work that her people had elected her for. Even as the Republic looked to fall apart, she wouldn’t leave her post.
They reached their destination at a nondescript elevator door at the end of the thoroughfare. It wasn’t exactly hidden, but nothing about it would name it as the Refuge of the Freed. Padme took a deep, fortifying breath as Atom called the elevator, they all piled in, and descended away from public eyes.
A level or two down, the doors opened again. Padme and her companions got their first glimpses of the Gonk Cartel’s organized relief efforts. The Refuge was buried beneath the street level, but still far from the undercity and disconnected as well. It was an isolated and fortified space. A refuge in truth, for all who needed its embrace.
The ceiling was high, and the floor extended out in every direction in front of them. The foundations for an entire borough of Nar Shaddaa had been converted to a greater, more noble, more relieving and rehabilitating purpose. All walls but those that bore the weight above had been busted down to create an open-air plan. In their place, more flexible barriers had been put up. Curtains and screens that shouted a sense of freedom and solidarity. There would be no confinement in the Freed Refuge.
The space was filled with hundreds, thousands, perhaps even tens of thousands of souls at any one time. They came and went freely. There were few limitations here, few chains. And certainly none on essential things like movement or unity. At every turn in the Refuge, its members were told that they were Freed.
Padme saw dozens of sentient species from all over the galaxy. Most she recognized, but some, she didn’t. How had all the diversity of the galaxy ended up on Nar Shaddaa…? Here, no less…? Padme knew the answer to that question, and it made her heart thud painfully in the bottom of her chest.
Here, the reaction to Atom’s presence was even more visceral. Former slaves, freed by all he set in motion, stopped and stared. They bowed. Some fell to their knees in prayer and thanks. Exaltations and almost worshipful praise were on every pair of lips, “Breaker of Chains!”
“Slug Slayer!”
“Brother Without Chains!”
“Mighty Leia’s Chosen!”
With a grim, sternly set expression, Atom didn’t revel for even a moment. He powered through it all, the adoration he didn’t think he deserved and the gratitude that would’ve made monsters of many other men.
“Right. You’ve got free rein. I won’t try to guide your impressions. I don’t need to, here,” He said. “Talk to people. Listen. Hear firsthand everything you need to know about the Hutts. Every soul within these walls has a story to tell. None of them are pretty. All of them need to be heard.”
Bail gave Atom an impressed glance before falling in by Padme’s side, “… He’s not trying to control the narrative, at least. We have to admit that much.”
Sadly, Padme shook her head, “As he said, I don’t think he needs to. Everyone here is a freed slave, or otherwise, a refugee of Hutt rule. I don’t think we’ll find any stories that disagree with the point he’s trying to get across.”
“That may very well be because there are none,” Bail warned.
“… I know,” Padme sighed. “I know…”
Atom sat back near the entrance and just watched. Sasha and Gloria joined him in abstaining to avoid controlling the narrative in favor of themselves. But Master Fay and Knights Quinlan and Aayla joined Padme, Bail, Obi-Wan, and Ani in their journey through the Freed Refuge, their quest to listen and learn…
Ani was the first to initiate things, walking straight up to a group of freed slaves that were crowded around a space heater for companionship. They were talking amongst themselves before she approached, with small, sad smiles and an aura of shared loss. But when Ani joined them, Padme and the others were treated to something magical.
“There exists no chain that cannot be broken. It hasn’t been forged now, and it never will be,” Ani said, a weight to her words that Padme couldn’t place but that still made her hold her breath. “We are proof, siblings. May my companions and I share your space?”
It was strange, Padme thought, to see the young woman who was usually so rebellious and lively become so solemn and earnest. It was another side to her younger friend, one Padme had never seen. It spoke of shared trials overcome and true, unforgettable understanding. These, Padme realized, were Ani’s people, the people she’d been born to, all knowing the harsh touch of slavery upon their very souls.
“Sister!” A short, green-skinned, and black-eyed woman — barely more than a girl — greeted Ani back with a toothy smile. “Welcome! You and yours are welcome in our circle! Come, come, share the heat on this not-so-cold day!”
“No day is truly cold anymore!” Another from the circle, a Nikto, proclaimed with a laugh. “Not with our stars returned to Mighty Leia’s sky!”
“I remember the feeling,” Ani smiled sadly. “Even if the chill didn’t leave me entirely for years… My mother… Well, there is always more of Mighty Leia’s work to be done.”
“You’re in good company, then, young sister,” An aged Human man bowed his head in acknowledgment. “My grandchildren still languish in chains throughout Hutt Space. But take heart. Mighty Leia would tell us if they were lost to us forever.”
Ani grinned wickedly at that, “It isn’t over until the fat overseer sings and screams.”
“Ani,” Obi-Wan chided gently. “Don’t go seeking vengeance. It isn’t the Jedi way.”
“Not vengeance,” Ani frowned. “Freedom.”
“The Council would frown upon both, in your case, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan noted, almost academically.
“Of course, the Masters would…” Ani spat.
“I didn’t say no,” Obi-Wan continued, causing Ani’s head to whip his way. “Just that it can’t be about vengeance.”
Ani stared at him, her eyes sharp, piercing, and weighing, as if desperately searching for approval unsaid. Eventually, she nodded, “… As you say, Master.”
“We have a Jedi sister?!” The green-skinned woman eagerly asked.
“It’s more common than you might think,” Aayla said with a distant smile and an even more distant look in her eyes.
The aged Human man nodded, “Not even Jedi are immune to chains.”
Padme stepped forward with a request, “Slavery is a terrible thing. Unlike Ani and Knight Aayla, the rest of us can barely begin to understand all you’ve been through. But that is why we’re here, to listen and learn. Would it be too much to ask some of you to share your stories?”
Though it was Padme’s request, the freed slaves in the circle all glanced at Ani. She gave a firm, fully committed nod of support. With just that, Padme knew it was only the confirmation of their newly found Jedi sister that got the circle to open up to outsiders. As they did, Padme’s heart wept.
The freed slaves introduced themselves, and the aged Human man — simply ‘Old’ Jon — began, “We were speaking of all we’ve each lost to the chains, milady. It is… not a topic for gentle hearts.”
“We wouldn’t expect it to be,” Bail soothed and assured. “But we would hear them anyway, if you’re willing to share.”
Fay took a slightly different approach, firmly stating, “Share their stories now, and they’ll never be forgotten. I will carry each of your losses with me until the end of my days — a hundred, five hundred, a thousand years more — I swear it. And when I pass, I will carry these tales farther still, into the Force with me. All that you’ve lost, their memories will never truly die.”
Beautiful and bolstering Force Light radiated from her person with the vow, filling the circle and beyond. To say nothing of the freed slaves, even Padme and her companions fell silent in awe as Fay’s promise seemed to brand itself onto the world. An ancient master had spoken, and the Force itself had agreed.
“You honor us lowly Freed, Master Jedi,” Old Jon said, bowing deep from the waist regardless of how slow and aching the movement was. When he stood straight again, heavy tears that refused to fall and reinforced resolve filled his eyes.
The conversation and Fay’s promise of Light began to attract attention from outside the initial circle. As Old Jon told his tale — lovingly etching his loss into the Force through Master Fay — more and more freed slaves came to join them.
“My scattered grandchildren are all I have left. Their mother, my daughter, was beaten to the bone for daring to hide them from the master who impregnated her. Even as I mourned her, I spirited her babes far away from that cruel set of hands. But for all I did, I couldn’t break their chains.
“The babes were taken by kinder masters, but masters still. Mighty Leia whispers to me in the night, beneath her sky, ‘They are together. Not safe, never safe… But together. And alive. Our time will come…’ Until then, they are lost to me, twins thinking themselves alone in the galaxy. It’s a terrible thing.
“I hope Mighty Leia whispers to them as she whispers to me. I hope they persist, until the freedom won here reaches them, until I can see my daughter in their faces and they can see themselves in mine. I just… I wish they could know that I remember them, if nothing else. That they have blood who thinks about them every second of every day. That our time will come…”
A tear opened in Padme’s heart as Old Jon shared his loss and hope with them, with the Force itself. Academically, logically, and even by personal proxy through Ani, she knew the horrors of slavery. But this was a story of it shared freely — intimately —straight from the soul who’d lived it and would carry its weight for the rest of his days. And it was only one tale of many, told firsthand by real people right in front of her.
The Nikto in the circle — Pavel — went next, “My chains came from debt. I worked for a Hutt named Sihur. Just an enforcer, but the cost of my spice habit came to outweigh my paycheck. More, more, more, I bled myself dry on spice, enough ryll that I should’ve drowned it in. I wish I had…
“Sihur slapped me in chains. And he had a routine for debtors to… ensure he made his credits back. He took my foot first, sold it as a choice cut of meat to his sluggin’ peers. Then, my fingers. ‘Finger food!’ He said. Kept me by his side and took my left leg off at the knee himself. Just… ripped it off… and sucked me off the bone right in front of me. Didn’t put a dent in my debt, that one.
“In just a year, he’d stripped me for flesh parts. My arms to the shoulder, my legs to the hip, cuts of meat off my back and sides, even my organs. His docs kept me alive and aware the whole time. I wished I still had the ryll, then, but… nah.
“Then, one day, miserable as the rest, Sihur’s door was busted in by the Gonks and the Freest Legion. Sir Podry himself gutted Sihur with his blade. He had all of my loyalty the moment he did, even if I thought it was all the final fever dream before I joined Mighty Leia in her sky. Wasn’t, though. His Freest Legion took me in, and Night City’s ripperdocs put me back together with their chrome.
“I fight for them now, until my new chrome limbs and new chrome organs give out,” Pavel said, openly showing off his noticably whole and metal arms and legs with a determined grin. “Haven’t touched a grain of spice since. Or… meat of any kind…”
The tear in Padme’s heart was joined by a sickened, knotted turn in her stomach. It felt like everything she’d ever eaten tried to come up all at once, and she barely kept it down. By all the Force, not even the Sith had legends of atrocities that awful, that abhorrent, that abominable. That was routine for a Hutt that wouldn’t even be remembered? Not even a notably cruel one?
The green-skinned girl — Lita — followed up that terrible tale with one just as bad, if in a different way. Her pure black eyes somehow dimmed further as she spoke.
“It was just me and big sissy Mia for my whole life, all I ever knew. She remembered Mom and Dad and even an Uncle, said we were ripped straight from their arms in a raid, but all I ever knew were her stories. We were bounced around like swamp cattle, sold here and there and here again. Until we were chosen as ‘exotic ornaments’ of a slug’s court.
“I grew up in all of that depravity, but Mia made sure I knew just how wrong and unnatural it was. She… protected me. Took all of the attention in that depraved court. And she suffered so, so much for it… There wasn’t a single morning that I wasn’t trying to patch her up and soothe her ‘working’ wounds from the night before.
“Our slug liked to collect exotic and unique ‘things’. Her favorite way to welcome guests was to arrange an exotic tasting platter and give them free rein of it for their first night at court. Kabruvans like me and Mia had never been seen in her court before, so Mia was… popular. She pretended to be eager and willing, a good little exotic treat, to keep eyes off me. I watched my big sister, the woman who raised me, be served up for all comers as she acted her part.
“Every morning… I found her dirty, used, and more broken than the last. But through it all, even at her worst, she would sing to me as I cleaned and treated her as best I could. She sang songs of home, of Mighty Leia’s Stars, of freedom and broken chains. She sang as she wasted away for entertainment, destroyed night by night until only a singing husk remained when I found her in the mornings.
“Still, she sang for me to go on, to live where she couldn’t. When the Gonk storm tore through that court, I rushed to tell her the news. I saw life in her eyes, then, the first I’d seen in years. She sang, one last time, of broken chains, urging me to shine like she never could, before rejoining Mighty Leia’s sky straight from my arms.”
A tear in her heart, a turn in her stomach, and now, something primally, inherently, sympathetically feminine rose to the fore within Padme at Lita’s tale. Her mind shook with rage like she’d never known, disgust visceral enough to make her skin crawl, and no small amount of helpless horror.
She didn’t turn away, though. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not from Old Jon’s tale of loss and hope, or Pavel’s tale of horror and atrocity, or Lita’s tale of rape for entertainment and innocence never had, or any of the other, similarly abominable tales that followed as the dam broke and more and more freed slaves came forward to share their stories of chains.
Through all of the tales that followed, the Hutts reigned horrifically supreme. They were the cruelest masters, the worst offenders, the most depraved and despicable characters in each tale, and even when not directly included, they were the ever-present eldritch horror that loomed over every life in chains.
In particular, the tale of ‘Slugfrey Slepstein’ told by a painfully young Twi’lek girl would haunt Padme’s nightmares for the rest of her life. But while that one was particularly depraved, it was far from unique. The horrific rot was inherent to Hutt society, to their very culture, with cruelty as its lifeblood, obscene excess as its bone, and ‘simple slug supremacy’ as its mottled skin to cover the unmatched horror they all reveled in.
Quite frankly, over hours and hours of shared stories from the freed slaves, Padme’s belief that any kind of accord could be reached with the Hutts was shattered. They wouldn’t want peace unless they were indisputably on top. And once they were, they’d just go right back to… this.
At the end of that emotionally-exhausting, heart-breaking, worldview-shattering day, Padme was left with a terrible uncertainty in herself and her mission. Her firm belief that they must always try was directly challenged by the undeniable fact that the Hutts never would.
Was… Atom right…? Was… violence against the terrible institution of Hutt Rule not just the only effective way, but also the only correct way forward…?
Was peace… never an option, from the very start…?
IIIII
Bonus Pics (sauce below)
Comments
QuantumServer
Thanks for the chapter, really showed your writting muscles with this chapter
Gamesempie
Fuuuuuck that chapter hit hard.
