Chapter Text
Shmi Skywalker
“How’s training?” Obi-Wan’s small hologram illuminated the only clear part of the breakfast nook as Shmi shoveled cereal into her mouth. The two of them rarely had time to talk, but they made the time. Obi-Wan would update her about Anakin’s progress and what was happening in his life. Shmi told him about her adjustment to the colder weather and her studies. She was behind on a core standard education, but ahead on mechanics. She was given a specialization early and sent to train in engineering. The practical she enjoyed, but the writing and equations were difficult. It was like learning a new language and describing something she could describe so well in Huttese. Slowing down to translate.
“Well, I thought I was going to be a simple mechanic. I didn’t expect all this work.”
“They recognised your potential,” Obi-Wan said as he shoveled down his lunch. “But you don’t need to take the classes if you’d rather–”
“No, I do, I like learning, it’s just… different. Hard… but a good hard. It distracts me too. How is Ani?”
“He’s starting to write more. I think I might be able to get a letter to you soon. He’s very focused.”
“I’ll need to work hard to be able to read it. That boy. Always so quick when he wants to be.”
“He gets it from you I suspect,” Obi-Wan smiled.
“I never thought that before you know,” Shmi told him. She drank down the rest of her blue milk. “His gifts always seemed to come from nowhere. There was always certainty in those small hands, but as I work here I see my hands move like his did. I understand these things that have given some of the other students trouble. He was always my world and I never thought much about myself after having him. And before that, I was forced to do repetitive menial work. I feel… bigger now… I don’t know how to explain it. I wish he were here with me so we could do this together. That he could see his mother as someone growing too. As someone learning.”
“I wish I could–”
“I know, Obi-Wan.”
“When he’s older you’ll be able to meet again,” Obi-Wan said with certainty. “He needs training, but once he’s a Knight there should be no trouble seeing each other again.”
Years from now. What kind of person would he be? What kind of person would she be?
She turned her attention back to her friend.
“You seem easier with the Jedi now.”
“Do I?”
“Mhmm.”
Obi-Wan ran his fingers through his hair. “I suppose I remembered all of the bad and none of the good. I had to bury it to keep going, but they were my family. I’m reconnecting with people that were like siblings to me.”
“Like Bant?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan smiled. “She’s been working with Anakin. Trying to help him navigate Jedi culture. I never would have thought of it if she hadn’t brought it up.”
“Didn’t you have to adjust after leaving?”
“Yes, quite a bit,” Obi-Wan replied. “Just as you are now. Even coming to the Core and living here again was a switch. Not the life of a Jedi initiate or a citizen of Melidaan. Everywhere has different unspoken rules. Hard to navigate without a guide.”
“I’m glad I have you,” Shmi agreed. “Even though you’re not here there are so many people that know you. Not because you are their Senator, but because you are a friend, or someone that has done a good turn for them. They hear I am sponsored by you and brighten in recognition and tell me their stories about you.
“Oh dear.”
“Not all of them are embarrassing.”
“But some of them are.”
“Oh yes,” Shmi chuckled. “Nothing terrible I promise.”
“Soon enough people will know me for you,” Obi-Wan said. “Oh? You know Shmi Skywalker? Let me tell you about when she blew up the reheater.”
“That was once!” She laughed outright now. “I didn’t know you couldn’t put durafoil in them! Besides. It’s nothing compared to the time Senator Kenobi lit the commerce chambers on fire.”
Obi-Wan groaned. “I had hoped that had been forgotten.”
CHM-38 beeped.
“Oh, thanks, Chum,” Shmi gulped down the rest of her food. “I have to go.”
“Have a good day, Shmi.”
“Sleep well, Obi-Wan!” She said after taking a quick glance at Courscanti time. The transmission cut out.
She threw her bowl and spoon in the sink and grabbed a hair band, pulling it back into something resembling tidy before grabbing her tool belt and datapad and leaving, Chum scuttling behind.
“No time today I’m afraid,” She gently tapped his nose and Chum folded up neatly. She stuck him in a pocket on the front of her bag and jogged to the public transport.
She had been surprised when she had entered her program that she hadn’t been the oldest among children. There were many her age learning to be engineers. Starting new lives.
Most had been soldiers. It was a common story. Their parents had been soldiers and when they were old enough they followed their parents' paths. Their education had gaps.
“We were taught history,” Dita explained as she carefully rearranged the fuel line of their project. “That’s really all we got taught. A long list of what the Daan had done to us. The soldiers' names that we had lost. My brothers taught me gun maintenance. During the war I was the one fixing comms and odds and ends. I threw down my weapons when I heard the children had gotten involved. After I made a go as a farm hand. I didn’t really know what else to do. All I knew was fighting. On the farm, I would fix up broken equipment.”
“You had a talent for fixing things,” Shmi guessed.
“Yeah, and no talent for farming,” Dita laughed. “I hated it. Backbreaking work and the soil here isn’t very good, so not a lot was growing. Finally, my boss says: ‘Ditalade, they’re enlisting again you know.’ I told her I don’t want to be a soldier again. I promised never to fire another slug-thrower, but she said: everyone in your generation can shoot. They need people that can fix. Few months later here I am fixing stuff with an offworlder and a bunch of Daan. It's been a decade since the war ended and here I am starting again. Feels right though.”
The supervisor insisted pairings be as mixed as possible. No just Melida and just Daan pairings. At first, it had been unbearable the tension so thick. Often people fought over who got to work with Shmi, an offworlder being far better than a former enemy. The younger students had less of a problem with one another.
It didn’t take as long as Shmi thought it would for the animosity to break. A few couldn’t stand it and left the program, but most settled in. Learned about each other. A few spats broke out, but usually, they were dealt with quickly. The supervisor had been doing this awhile and he knew his business in keeping them from killing each other. The younger students' presence helped as well.
Dita stretched, watching as Shmi soldered in the wiring.
“Want me to calculate the readings?”
“No,” Shmi said. “Let me do it… as long as you don’t mind waiting.”
“We finished the tech early, go on Skywalker. I had a big breakfast.”
Shmi slowly went over the numbers and letters. She had felt foolish when she began with her clumsy reading, but she couldn’t let herself leave it to her partners. She was here to learn. Her Ani was doing his best, she had to as well.
Dita never minded waiting the extra time. She didn’t roll her eyes or groan when Shmi asked to do it. She didn’t hover over her shoulder and try to correct her as Shmi tried to work out a complicated string of code.
“My brother was shit at letters. Still is actually. They wobble around on him. Smartest one in the family. He can recite our ancestor’s stories back at least five generations by memory. He knows every speech from the Halls of Evidence our family ever spoke. Takes ten minutes for him to read a grocery list,” She shrugged.
“You sound proud of him,” Shmi smiled. It was lunch now. The two sat on a wall outside the workshop taking in the air. Shmi had pulled on the thick woolen jacket, Dita had pulled up her shirt sleeves.
“Don’t tell him that though,” Dita groaned. “He’s such a know-it-all.”
“I bet he’s proud of you too, training as an engineer.”
“I doubt it. He was mad as hell hearing I was joining the army again. We’re the only two that survived in our family. He’s settled down with a partner. Has adopted five children. He thinks that’s what I should be doing. Don't get me wrong. The next generation is our future, but I'm not sure I could be a parent. I'm happy being an Auntie.”
“He loves you,” Shmi said simply. “He remembers your suffering.”
“He doesn’t get that it’s different now. We aren’t going to war. Melidaan will never go to war again. The army is for the sake of the people.”
Shmi nodded. She hesitated before sighing. “What about Naboo?”
“Naboo we were helping, and it was volunteer only. It wasn’t war.”
Shmi wondered. Mandatory service in the army was benign enough when you were rebuilding a planet and with a firm anti-war stance, but would that last? When they were self-sufficient would they disband the army? Or would something else come of it?
“You should tell him that,” Shmi said. “He won’t understand your point of view if you don’t tell him.”
“Ehhh, I guess. I do miss him and Laren, his husband. And it's been a long time since I saw my nibbles…hey–sorry.”
“What?”
“You got that sad look in your eyes again, Skywalker. I’m sorry. Want to come over after class? I got a stew slow cooking. We can go over Shadoway’s next assignment.”
“That would be wonderful! Thank you Dita!”
“Place is a bit of a mess,” Dita said quickly.
“I’m sure it can’t be as bad as the state of mine right now. I haven’t had much time either,” Shmi grinned. “Thank you Dita… it’s been lonely. Everyone has been kind, but…”
“Not eating stew at the kitchen table while you try to work out how a calibration coil works kind of kind,” Dita finished with a bright nod. "I get you."
“Thank you.”
“No thanks needed,” Dita nudged her. “You’re fun, Skywalker. Bit quiet, but I’m sure we can change that in time.”
Shmi laughed, “Quiet? I’ll have to change your opinion then. Now come on. We better get back."