Soren ended up sitting next to the Jedi—whose name turned out to be Qui-Gon Jinn—at lunch. Seeing as the girl—a handmaiden named Padmé—was ignorant to how slavery worked, that seemed to be the main topic of discussion between her and the other two members of his family.

"All slaves have a transmitter placed inside their bodies somewhere," his mom replied while pouring drinks, answering Padmé's question on how the masters keep people from just leaving.

Anakin spoke up, waiting his turn with his cup. "I've been working on a scanner to try and locate mine."

"Any attempt to escape..."

"And they blow you up!" Anakin finished for their mom, making an enthusiastic explosion sound.

Soren glanced up from his plate at his younger brother, an eyebrow raised. "Riiiight, make fun of a literal bomb inside of all of us," he drawled, noticing for the second time how Padmé flinched ever-so-slightly at how bluntly he stated facts. Sheltered upbringing, maybe? It was always fun shattering privileged folks' views on how great the Republic was, so he continued, "Then again, if we take them out and leave, we'll get bounties on our heads and be dragged back eventually."

There was a long pause and an exasperated look at the teenager from his mother as she walked around the table. "I can't believe there's still slavery in the galaxy," Padmé finally said. "The Republic's antislavery laws-"

"The Republic doesn't exist out here," his mother replied gently, used to outlanders not understanding and far more patient with it than her eldest son. "We must survive on our own."

The Gungan—Jar Jar—snatched a fruit from the bowl with his tongue, momentarily attracting everyone's gaze. He smiled sheepishly. "'Xcuse me."

Soren stared, wondering if there was something loose in the guy's head. He just used his tongue to grab something from a bowl everyone used. After a second, Soren reached across the table to grab the bowl and stood up. "Yeah, that's disgusting. I'm cleaning these," he stated flatly, eyeing the surprised Gungan. "Mind your manners. You're still a guest in this house, which means that if you want a fruit, you use your hands to grab it, not something that was touching a frog earlier today. Got it?"

Jar Jar gulped, nodding hurriedly, and the room was silent as the teen made his way over to the cleaning rags. He sighed under his breath and picked one up, water far too precious to use for something other than washing people, clothes, or dishes. Anything else just got a vaguely damp cloth.

"Has anybody ever seen a podrace?" Anakin asked almost hesitantly, breaking the silence Soren had created when he'd left the table.

"They have podracing on Malastare," Qui-Gon said, eating one of the pallies Anakin had got him. "Very fast, very dangerous."

"I'm the only human who can do it."

"You must have Jedi reflexes if you race pods."

Soren almost dropped the bowl on his way back at the Jedi's statement, the realization hitting him like a whip. He knew his brother was special; able to practically see things before they happened and react faster than humanly possible. But he hadn't made the connection between Anakin and the Jedi until now.

Anakin looked down at the table for a long second before sliding his gaze back up, fiddling with his silverware. "You're a Jedi Knight, aren't you?"

"What makes you think that?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I saw your laser sword," Anakin said, Soren mentally facepalming because his brother knew they were called lightsabers. "Only Jedis carry that kind of weapon."

For whatever reason, the man still insisted on playing his little game of denial. "Perhaps I killed a Jedi and took it from him."

"I don't think so," Anakin responded in complete confidence. "No one can kill a Jedi."

Soren choked on his drink, coughing to disguise his incredulous laughs. "Anyone can be killed," he wheezed, his mom immediately placing a hand on his back and rubbing circles onto it.

Qui-Gon almost looked sad looking back at Anakin. "Your brother is right, but I wish what you said were so."

Since the two seemed to be doing all the talking at the table, Soren just finished his food and listened to Anakin speak. "I had a dream I was a Jedi. I came back here and freed all the slaves. Have you come to free us?"

Doubtful.

"No, I'm afraid not."

Called it.

"I think you have. Why else would you be here?" Anakin challenged.

There was a long pause before the Jedi answered, leaning forward. "I can see there's no fooling you, Anakin. We're on our way to Coruscant, the central system in the Republic, on a very important mission."

"How did you end up out here in the Outer Rim?"

This time, it was Padmé who answered. "Our ship was damaged, and we're stranded here until we can repair it."

"Me and Soren can help," Anakin offered.

Wait, what?

Soren blinked at his little brother in surprise. Hold on, since when had he volunteered to help them? Anakin could, sure, fine, but that didn't mean that both Skywalker brothers were automatically-

He sighed under his breath the second Anakin hit him with his 'come on, Soren, I thought big brothers were supposed to love and support their little brothers' look. "Yeah," Soren reluctantly continued, cursing the bond that allowed them to communicate with facial expressions. "We can fix anything."

"I believe you boys can," Qui-Gon, surprisingly, agreed. "But first we must acquire the parts we need."

"Wit no-nutten mula to trade."

Soren nearly had another aneurism deciphering what Jar Jar meant, then squinted dubiously at the Gungan. "Riiight, nothing at all. Not like you came here on a Nubian class ship accompanied by a handmaiden, which implies that the owner of said ship is on the rich side," he said sarcastically, deliberately ignoring his mother's exasperated look. Soren looked at the Jedi with a sardonic grin. "Hey, I got an idea. Why don't you bet on Ani here for one of those lovely podraces that's coming up tomorrow on Boonta Eve and hope he wins?"

Anakin spoke up before anyone else could say anything, straightening up in his chair when the conversation turned in a direction he liked. "Yeah, we built a racer. It's the fastest ever!"

"If my calculations are right—and they always are..." Soren continued quickly before their mom could say anything, only having suggested the option because he knew just how much his brother wanted to test the racer out. "It should be able to reach over nine hundred kilometers a standard hour."

"Anakin, Soren," their mom broke in as soon as the last word left the older's lips. "Watto won't let you."

"Watto doesn't know we've built it!" Anakin exclaimed, his eyes meeting Soren for help before turning to Qui-Gon. "You could make him think it was yours, and get him to let me pilot it for you!"

"I don't want you to race, it's awful. I die every time Watto makes you do it."

Soren internally cringed at the 'mom' tone her voice took on, knowing there was only one was to get past it. Appeal to her humanity.

"But Mom, I love it!" Anakin protested. Even when Watto 'made' him do it, there were no complaints on the youngest Skywalker's end. He just wanted the thrill that came with going fast and the fact that he was the only human who could actually pilot a pod without dying in an explosion or something.

"The prize money would more than pay for the parts they need," Soren added casually, side-eyeing their mom and noting that they needed to push just the slightest bit harder. He could tell that his brother noticed the same and he sent a 'do it' expression across the table.

Anakin put on his 'I'm a cute innocent child, how could you say no' face. "Mom, you say the biggest problem in the universe is nobody helps each other."

Their mother let out a breath.

"I'm sure Qui-Gon doesn't want to put your son in danger," Padmé offered, shaking her head. Soren internally scowled at the counter to the brothers' efforts, but knew that they'd already won. "We'll find some other way."

Sure enough, their mom shook her head back. "No. There is no other way. I may not like it, but... my boys can help you. He was meant to help you."

Soren looked over at the Jedi at the same time as Anakin. Specifically, at the way his expression softened at the youngest Skywalker before glancing away thoughtfully.

He grinned. They had him, too.

~-~-~-~

Soren was almost impressed at how easily Qui-Gon convinced Watto to enter in Anakin in the race once the sandstorm had died down. Only 'almost' because of how much the Jedi tipped the scales in favor of his master, only getting the cost of the parts he needed in return if Anakin won.

When Anakin won.

Now all they had to do was make sure that the pod actually worked. Soren knew it would, obviously, considering their conjoined expertise in technology, but he always only pretended to be completely sure of himself. On the outside, it might look that he had one hundred percent confidence in what he was doing, but it was the complete opposite on the inside.

So many things could go wrong. The pod could malfunction because they got all the parts from junkyards. For all Soren knew, one of them could've been defective and he'd just missed it.

Even worse, the other participants in the races were pieces of shit. They loved to make little additions to their own pods that would sabotage other pods, or do it before the race even started. Everyone played dirty—minus Anakin, bless his innocence—so Soren was expecting the worst.

Expect disappointment, and you will never be disappointed.

Nope. He was optimistic about everything. Pessimism who?

Anyway-

Soren set down his wrench on top of the left engine calmly, then smacked either side of his face with both hands. Hard. He then proceeded to ignore the others' stares or Anakin's 'friends' when they ran in, other than shooting all but one of the latter a glare out of the corner of his eye.

Only Kitster was spared, since he didn't immediately laugh and say the pod wasn't going to work. The others, however, feigned disinterest and ran away to play ball. They just wanted to get away from Soren and found the first excuse to do so, considering he was bigger than all of them and was staring daggers into their skulls.

Honestly, he wasn't sure why they actually ran. He might be glaring, yeah, but he'd never actually hurt a kid younger than him unless they attacked him first. Soren might be planning a career in fighting, but he still had morals.

"Hey, Soren, be careful with the energy binders," Anakin called while climbing into the pod, a mischievous grin on his face. "You don't want to be numb for hours."

He slapped a button on the dashboard.

Soren only had time to widen his eyes as the purple bolts of electricity between the engines crackled and spat out towards him. "You little-" he tried to start, only to have his body be overtaken by involuntary twitching as the energy binders ran through it.

"Ow..." he groaned, staggering backwards and grabbing onto the left engine. Soren stopped as soon as he heard his own distorted voice, blinked a few times, and snickered. His tongue was as heavy as lead—as were his limbs—and he could feel literally nothing. "Wait, that's actually kind of cool. When did you put that in?"

Anakin rolled his eyes dramatically, taking a power charge from Qui-Gon with an enthusiastic, "Yes, sir!" He attached the battery and shot his brother a proud thumbs up. "I put it in after you told me everyone else is gonna have sabotaging weapons. I wanted to surprise you."

"Consider me surprised," Soren grinned, taking a few steps back and walking around the side of the engines. He gave the pod a little more space, just as Qui-Gon took Kitster's hand and led him away, too. "Now, let's see if this thing works. If it doesn't, I'm going to cry," he stated matter-of-factly, folding his hands behind his back.

His brother nodded, finding that completely normal, and fiddled with the ignition switch a few times. The start-up engines were a little cranky, unfortunately, so one flick of the switch wouldn't cut it.

Soren could only watch as the engines hummed to life and the turbines slowly began to spin. Smoke coughed out of the backs before flames jetted out, only to be focused properly when the reinforced metal sheets moved into place.

"It's working!" Anakin yelled over the wind, his hair being blown all over the place. "It's working!"

Of course it was. There hadn't been any doubt. Absolutely none, zip, zilch, zero whatsoever. And yet... Soren found himself letting out a sigh of relief, rubbing a hand through his loose curls and just watching his little brother enjoy himself.

As far as he was concerned, the race was already won.

~-~-~-~

Soren waited until Anakin passed through the door before speaking up. "So," he raised an eyebrow, leaning against the sandstone wall and crossing his arms over his chest. "What was he doing with your blood, exactly?"

His brother jumped at his whisper, eyes wide. "Checking... for infections. The cut was pretty bad, and I can't get sick before the race," Anakin whispered back.

Soren nodded, then jerked his head towards the bedrooms. "Alright. Get some sleep. You're going to need it."

He waited until Anakin had left before turning his attention to the Jedi sitting on the edge of the small balcony. Qui-Gon was up to something, Soren knew that much, but the question was what he was up to.

"Obi-Wan?"

Soren made a face at the unfamiliar name. Who was he talking to? There was no one around- unless Qui-Gon had a commlink. Never mind.

"Yes, Master?" came the distorted voice of a younger male, although still obviously from an adult. Yep. Commlink.

But Master? Did the Jedi have a slave? Was that why he denied Anakin's theory that he'd come to free them because he supported slavery?

No, Soren didn't believe that was the case. Qui-Gon was traveling with someone who was appalled by slavery, and he knew that Padmé would've definitely said something. Maybe it was a master-apprentice relationship? That seemed more likely.

The teen's theory that something was up was confirmed a second later, when Qui-Gon instructed, "I need an analysis of this blood sample I'm sending you."

"Wait a minute," Obi-Wan confirmed, followed by muffled electronic beeping.

"I need a midi-chlorian count."

Midi... what? Soren had half a mind to pop his head around the corner and demand answers to every single question swirling around in his brain. Unfortunately, if he wanted to hear the rest of the conversation, he'd have to stay put.

Obi-Wan's voice was stunned. "The reading is off the chart. Over twenty-thousand. Even Master Yoda doesn't have a midi-chlorian count that high."

Oh, yay, another unknown individual. From the sounds of it, this 'Yoda' had a lot of these... midi-chlorians. But if that was Anakin's blood they were testing, then... Soren didn't know what that meant.

"No Jedi has," Qui-Gon replied, keeping his voice neutral.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure," the Jedi finished, signaling the end of the conversation. There were a few seconds of silence before he spoke up again. "You can come out now, Soren. I'm sure you have questions."

Soren clenched his jaw, mentally cursing whatever magic Jedi thing that allowed Qui-Gon to know he was there. He was better than most people at sneaking around unnoticed, able to move pretty quietly and breathe silently. Even so, he tightened his arms where they were crossed and stepped out from behind the wall. "What do you want with Anakin?"

Qui-Gon was annoyingly calm while faced with a scowling teenager, still sitting on the ledge. "Your concern for your brother is admirable," he said.

"I know," Soren brushed off the comment with two simple words, leaning against the doorframe. He debated whether or not he should ask any other of the hundred queries he'd come up with ever since first encountering the Jedi, unable to choose yes or no. "That still doesn't answer my question."

The man let out a breath; small, but still perceptible. "Anakin... has a gift. If he had lived in the Republic, he would have been trained from a younger age."

"He would have been a Jedi," Soren took those words to mean, not sure how he felt about that. He'd already made the connection at lunch, but hearing it said aloud was... he didn't know. Amazing? Terrible? Somewhere in between?

His little brother, the one he'd sworn to protect, could've been one of the Republic's peacekeepers. Anakin would've been free and able to defend himself, and slavery was banned in Republic space.

But that was just a fantasy. The Skywalkers lived on Tatooine, where slavery was practiced everywhere and no one gave a damn. They had bombs implanted that could go off at a moment's notice should Watto be so inclined.

Soren met the Jedi's gaze evenly, having compiled a hasty, modified plan. He hated the plan, but if it meant his brother's freedom sooner than he himself could provide... "Before the race, make a bet with Watto. If Anakin wins, you get to take him with you. If he wants to."

Qui-Gon folded his hands in the sleeves of his robe, unperturbed by the request that was phrased like a demand. "And yourself and your mother?"

He shook his head, glancing off in the dark towards where he knew his master's shop to be. "He'll only agree for one person," Soren grumbled. Watto was far too stingy to bet more than one slave, even if he gambled far too much to begin with. "It's fine. We'll be free within the next three years if I have anything to say about it."

One to two years to start fighting in the arena, build his reputation—anonymously, of course—and earn enough money. By the time three years rolled around, Soren should have enough money to buy both their freedom and have enough extra to keep them afloat. But with Anakin out of the picture, less money would be needed, and, therefore, less time.

"Very well," Qui-Gon finally assented, standing up and absolutely towering over Soren for the second time since they'd met. He was infuriatingly tall for no reason, and that grated on the teen's nerves. People looking down on him, whether literally or figuratively, always had and always would be irritating. "I'll see what I can do."

Soren turned to go wordlessly, pausing over the threshold. He hesitated, unsure whether or not to say anything. "Thank you," he finally whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Sleep well, Soren."