Halcyon 🪐⋆｡°✩ Paul Arteides ✩⋆｡°🪐 / A Star Wars Story

6.

The debrief was nothing that Sidra didn't already know. But unlike the Jedi Archives, the Harkonnen's perspective on the Fremen was much less humanising. 

Their descriptions of the Indigenous people could have been confused with the treatment of rats on Coruscant. It was obvious that the Harkonnen wanted to exterminate the Fremen, but they were holding back their statements in the Jedi's presence.

The hanger of the complex was where Sidra heard new information. They met up with the 501st, who had taken off their helmets while exposed to the heat. 

With the hanger doors raised, the full force of the hot wind and grains that it carried hit its occupants. The Harkonnen continued about their duties, while Mon led the Jedi and the 501st over to the mouth of the hanger.

There, was a sapphire-eyed man. He stood out not just from his brilliant eye colour, but from his dark facial hair. 

Other than Obi-wan, he was the only one who dawned some hair on his face, and it was full and rurly. It made Sidra feel like she wasn't surrounded by carbon copies, and she hoped that the clones wouldn't take offence to the thought.

'If you are going into the desert, you will need to stay hydrated,' the man said, shifting his cobalt blue eyes between each Jedi. 

While stood next to Master Obi-wan, Sidra noticed that he never looked towards Mon vin Cuss, who lingered nearby with two other Harkonnen. It made for a tense discussion and the Force alerted all its users about the discomfort from the tanned-skin man.

'These are stillsuits,' he held one bundle of fabric while a pile was on the floor next to him. 'They take all the water that you lose and clean it. You can then drink it through the tube in this mask.'

He held up the mouth cover that stretched a tube from the back of the suit. The thought of drinking their own fluids exerted from their bodies wasn't a comfort, but the Jedi were openminded. They were trained to use any opportunity to survive, protect and be one with the Force. A system that reduced the risk of dying from dehydration was an exceptional invention and the Jedi knew that it couldn't have been the Harkonnens that had invented it. They hadn't seen the bald, pale men in these stillsuits; only their bulky, black armour made for battle.

'How extraordinary,' Obi-wan mumbled, his eyes zeroed in on the suit. 'Is this Fremen technology.'

'Yes, sir. I am one of the few in Arrakeen that can prepare them for the extremes.'

'Are you Fremen?' Anakin said.

Sidra noticed how Mon's head tuned stiffly to the Skywalker. She didn't blame the man for asking the quesiton as Anakin wasn't one for venturing to the Jedi Library. But she almost wished he held his curiosity at bay, because the shift in the man who held the stillsuit was uncomfortable to witness.

The Fremen had striking blue eyes from the constant exposure to the spice. Any off-worlder would never be able to be out in the desert long enough to have this feature. Anyone who was aware of this wouldn't need to ask if someone was Fremen, and it wasn't wrong to ask.

However, from the reaction from Mon, and the turning of the surrounding Harkonnens' heads, it highlighted an aspect that seemed taboo.

With an adjustment of his feet and a strengthening of his grip on the suit, the man gulped, and answered,

'Yes, sir. But I have been brought to show you the workings of the suit.'

'Luvis, here, was brought from the tribes to be our informant,' Mon said, his tone still flat. 'He is rehabilitated, and no harm to you-'

'Oh, I'm not worried about being overpowered by Luvis,' Anakin shrugged his shoulders, but harnessed a glare at the bald advisor. 'I was asking a question, to which he answered. So, let's let him continue, shall we?'