Chapter Text
It all starts like this (that's a lie it starts when Jango Fett, who had only recently accepted a cushy job on Kamino, hands over his latest bounty to Jabba and wins a slave women in a game of Sabacc)
This is how it all comes out:
They were back in hyperspace, after the clusterfuck of a mission that was Zygerria. They had come for the Togrutan colonists but no one had even thought about leaving the other slaves behind, so General Koon’s Venator was packed full with not only the 104th but all of the freed slaves. Since the starship was operating at more than double it's intended capacity, sleeping spaces had to be improvised and crammed into every available space including the hangar and the cargo hold.
Obi-Wan was walking down the corridors of the bustling ship, his former padawan at his side.
"I'm telling you, Master, you need to see a medic!" Anakin continued to argue to Obi-Wan's mounting frustration.
"And I'm telling you that I'm perfectly fine, Padawan. It would be completely unnecessary to waste the medics time."
Anakin let out an aggrieved sigh.
"You're not fine, even I can see that. I swear I will tell Cody that you're not taking care of yourself, again. When our men catch up to us, I'm pretty sure Kix would be more than happy to tranq you for a thorough check up!"
They rounded a corner, and before Obi-Wan could reply, something stopped both of them in their tracks.
A few paces away a clone was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, singing softly to a small child sitting in his lap.
Oh dear, she must have been one of the slaves in that awful mine. But she's so young! If a trooper is taking care of her, her parents must be either dead or sold before her.
The little one had obviously been crying but was slowly calming down at the song, sung in a strange lilting language Obi-Wan had never heard before. He'd thought the clone only spoke Mando'a and Basic, but this was very obviously neither. Only then did it register to Obi-Wan that Anakin next to him had frozen.
Looking at his former padawan’s wide-eyed shock, he instinctively reached out across their old bond and felt the shock warring with disbelief and… homesickness? Curious.
In that moment the singing falls silent.
"Uh, sorry General. Generals. I didn't see you there," the trooper said, scratching his head awkwardly.
"It's quite alright, trooper. I'm afraid I do not know your name?"
Anakin seemed to have regained enough of his senses to interrupt and blurt out a choked-of: "How do you know Amatakka?!"
The clone froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. The little girl in his lap, burrowed her face further into his shoulder, obviously spooked, at the words that had come out harsher than they had probably been meant to be.
"That's, uh, kind of a long story. Not all of it meant for little ears, and I don't really know all of it either. You would be better off asking some of the older vode. They probably know more than me."
In that moment the ship wide com system crackled to life. "Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, Commander Tano and Captain Rex report to the bridge immediately. I repeat: Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, Commander Tano and Captain Rex report to the bridge immediately."
"Sounds like the Council wants our report," Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm afraid your questions will have to wait Anakin."
"Yeah, yeah. Let's just get this over with." His expression softened. "Take care of her trooper."
"I will, Sir! Thank you, Sir!"
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"Anyone feel like telling me why one of my Shinies came to me in a tizzy, babbling that he fucked up and you found out about something?" Wolffe growled out. "He wouldn't actually tell me what exactly you found out that has him so upset, so with all due respect, Generals, what the kriff is going on?"
Obi-Wan sighed. He really would have preferred to wait for his men to arrive to ask Cody some questions, but Anakin had been insistent they get answers now, which apparently meant dragging Obi-Wan to Wolffe's quarters, the second the debrief was over and demanding the full story the Shiny -Whose named he still don't know, dammit Anakin!- had hinted at.
"We overheard him singing an Amatakka lullaby to one of the little ones without parents," Anakin said. "He said to ask some older clones, so here we are."
Wolffe lifted an eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed at Anakins terseness, which had Obi-Wan stifling a smile.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Cut the osik Commander, I know what I heard. How do you know Amatakka? I know that you know what I'm talking about, you're not even feigning surprise."
Wolffe sighed.
"Alright, General, but first I have to ask how you know it. I'm aware most jetiise speak several languages, but I didn't think this was one of them."
"It's not." Obi-Wan said, catching the attention of the two men who seemed surprised at the reminder that he was in the room.
"I made a point of studying languages so that I might at least recognize any language I came across, and I can say with full confidence that I never even heard of this before today."
Anakin let out a tired sigh, carding his hand through his hair.
"I know. And before this mission, I would have sought answers of my own. Outsiders aren't supposed to know, but I figured after what happened on Kadavo, you had the right to be included in this conversation."
With that, he turned to Wolffe again.
"To answer your question, Commander, I know because it's what I grew up speaking with my mother. It's not common knowledge, but I came to the order very late, after Master Qui-Gon won me in a bet and freed me."
For the first time Wolffe seemed taken aback.
"Well, that explains why the 501st always jokes about you not liking sand. Tatooine, huh?"
"Yes, he grew up on that dreadful dustball. But could someone please explain what is going on? What does Tatooine have to do with this? I thought the language spoken there was Huttese?"
Wolffe and Anakin shared a look and seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.
"It's slave culture," Wolffe answered.
Anakin nodded in confirmation.
"Most of the stories we tell are universal across the Galaxy, with minor regional differences. But the language tends to be more divers. It's still the same language, and every slave will understand it, but the different dialects are very distinct. And that trooper was definitely singing in the Tatooine dialect. Like the rest of the culture it's, well, secret. If the Masters don't know it exists, they cannot take it from us. It's not for outsiders to know, but you're part of my family. And given what you went through at the hands of the Zygerrians, I figured you deserved to know."
"Oh. I. I'm honored that you trust me with this Anakin. I -" I didn't know you considered us family still. I know I wasn't always what I should have been and we've been drifting apart for so long…
"So," Wolffe said, more softly than Obi-Wan had ever heard the gruff Commander, "You still want the story?"
"Yes" Anakin burst out, tacking on a "Please" almost like an afterthought.
Oh Anakin! You never did manage to grasp the concept of good manners. Oh well, the Commander seems more amused than anything, but I wonder why anyone ever allowed you to guard a Senator. If Padmé wasn't the most patient woman in the galaxy, you would have caused a diplomatic incident.
"Alright, so let me just say that I was very young, so don't know the whole story. Or the exact whys and hows. I just know that one day Jango came back from a bounty hunt with a woman. I think she was just meant to be a nurse-maid for Boba. But she instantly took to all of us. After she came, they stopped culling the clones with minor defects. Rumor has it she made Jango put the pressure on the Kaminoans.
She basically adopted every single one of the vode. The trainers had been teaching us Mandalorian culture as well as fighting but most of them weren't exactly… kind. She offered us a kindness we had never experienced. There isn't a trooper who wouldn't die for her."
Wolffe scoffs. "Some of the trainers didn't like it. Thought it would make us soft. One of them attempted to pressure her into stopping. Said we were made to fight and nothing else. Until that moment, nobody thought she even had a temper, but holy kriff did they learn."
A fond smile steals across Wolffe's face.
"I'll never forget it. She made quite the sight: A small civilian women staring down Kal Skirata, calling him out on his bullshit. Calling him on his hypocrisy. Bastard always played favorites."
"After that, after the reminder that we were literally bred and engineered to be someone else's perfect soldiers, she started teaching us about her culture. Now all the younger clones learn to speak Amatakka as soon as they're old enough to understand that they can't do it in front of the trainers or the longnecks. It's a part of us, of our culture, just as much as being Mandalorian is."