Terry Brooks

The Phantom Menace

To Lisa, Jill, Amanda, & Alex, the kids who grew up with the story & to

Hunter, the first of the generation

A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY...

1

Tatooine.

The suns burned down out of a cloudless blue sky, washing the vast

desert wastes of the planet in brilliant white light. The resultant glare

rose off the flat, sandy surface in a wet shimmer of blistering heat to fill

the gaps between the massive cliff faces and solitary outcroppings of the

mountains that were the planet's sole distinguishing feature.

Sharply

etched, the monoliths stood like sentinels keeping watch in a watery haze.

When the Podracers streaked past, engines roaring with ferocious hunger and

relentless drive, the heat and the light seemed to shatter and the mountains

themselves to tremble.

Anakin Skywalker leaned into the curve of the raceway that took him

past the stone arch marking the entry into Beggar's Canyon on the first lap

of the run, easing the thruster bars forward, giving the engines a little

more juice. The wedge-shaped rockets exploded with power, the right a tad

harder than the left, banking the Pod in which Anakin sat sharply left to

clear the turn. Swiftly, he adjusted the steering to straighten the racer,

boosted power further, and shot through the arch.

Loose sand whiplashed in the wake of his passing, filling the air with

a gritty sheen, whirling and dancing through the heat. He ripped into the

canyon, fingers playing across the controls, hands steady on the steering.

It was all so quick, so instantaneous. One mistake, one misjudgment,

and he would be out of the race and lucky if he weren't dead. That was the

thrill of it. All that power, all that speed, just at his fingertips, and no

margin for error. Two huge turbines dragged a fragile Pod over sandy flats,

around jagged - edged mountains, down shadowed draws, and over

heart-wrenching drops in a series of twisting, winding curves and jumps at

the greatest speed a driver could manage. Control cables ran fr'lffi the Pod

to the engines, and energy binders locked the engines to each other. If any

part of the three struck something solid, the whole of the assembly would

collapse in a splintering of metal and a fiery wash of rocket fuel. If any

part broke free, it was all over.

A grin split Anakin's young face as he injected a bit more power into

the thrusters.

Ahead, the canyon narrowed and the shadows deepened. Anakin bore down

on the slit of brightness that opened back onto the flats, keeping low to

the ground where passage was widest. If he stayed high, he risked brushing

the cliff faces on either side. That had happened to Regga in a race last

month, and they were still looking for the pieces.

It would not happen to him.

He shoved the thruster bars forward and exploded through the gap onto

the flats, engines screaming.

Sitting in the Pod with his hands on the controls, Anakin could feel

the vibration of the engines travel up the control cables and fill him with their music. Wrapped in his rough-made

jumpsuit, his racing helmet, his goggles, and his gloves, he was wedged so

closely in his seat that he could feel the rush of the wind across the Pod's

skin beneath him. When he raced like this, he was never simply the driver of

a Podracer, never just an additional part. Rather, he was at one with the

whole, and engines, Pod, and he were bound together in a way he could not

entirely explain. Each shimmy, each small throb, each tug and twist of strut

and tie were apparent to him, and he could sense at any given moment exactly

what was happening throughout the length and breadth of his racer. It spoke

to him in its own language, a mix of sounds and feelings, and though it did

not use words, he could understand everything it said.

Sometimes, he thought dreamily, he could sense what it would say before

it even spoke.

A flash of gleaming orange metal shot past him on his right, and he

watched the distinctive split-X of Sebulba's engines flare out before him,

taking away the lead he had seized through an unusually quick start.

His

brow wrinkled in disgust at himself for his momentary lapse of concentration

and his dislike of the other racer. All gangly and crook-legged, Sebulba was

as twisted inside as out, a dangerous adversary who won often and took

delight in doing so at the expense of others. The Dug had caused more than a

dozen crashes of other Podracers in the past year alone, and his eyes

glinted with wicked pleasure when he recounted the tales to others on the

dusty streets of Mos Espa. Anakin knew Sebulba well - and knew better

than

to take chances with him.

He rode the thruster bars forward, fed fresh power to the engines, and

rocketed ahead.

It didn't help, he supposed as he watched the distance between them narrow, that he was human or, much worse, that he was the only human ever to drive in the Podraces. The ultimate test of skill

and daring on Tatooine and the favorite spectator sport of the citizens of

Mos Espa, it was supposed to be beyond the skill and capability of any

human. Multiple arms and multihinged joints, stalk eyes, heads that swiveled

180 degrees, and bodies that twisted as if boneless gave advantages to other

creatures that humans could not begin to overcome. The most famous racers,

the best of a rare breed, were strangely shaped, complexly formed beings

with a penchant for taking risks that bordered on insanity.

But Anakin Skywalker, while nothing like these, was so intuitive in his

understanding of the skills required by his sport and so comfortable with

its demands that his lack of these other attributes seemed to matter not at

all. It was a source of some mystery to everyone, and a source of disgust

and growing irritation to Sebulba in particular.

Last month, in another race, the wily Dug had tried to run Anakin into

a cliff face. He had failed only because Anakin sensed him coming up from

behind and underneath, an illegal razor saw extended to sever Anakin's right

Steelton control cable, and Anakin lifted away to safety before the saw

could do its damage. His escape cost him the race, but allowed him to keep

his life. It was a trade he was still angry at having been forced to make.

The racers whipped through columns of ancient statuary and across the

floor of the arena erected on the edge of Mos Espa. They swept under the

winner's arch, past row upon row of seats crammed with spectators cheering

them on, past pit droids, repair stations, and the boxes where the Hutts

watched in isolated splendor above the commoners. From an overlook in a

tower centered on the arch, the two-headed Troig who served as announcer

would

be shouting out their names and positions to the crowd.

Anakin allowed himself a momentary glimpse of blurred figures that were

left behind so fast they might have been nothing more than a mirage.

His

mother, Shmi, would be among them, worrying as she always did. She

hated

watching him drive in the Podraces, but she couldn't help herself. She never

said so, but he thought she believed that simply by being there she could

keep him from coming to harm. It had worked so far. He had crashed twice and

failed to finish even once, but after more than half a dozen races he was

unharmed. And he liked having her there. It gave him a strange sort of

confidence in himself he didn't like to think about too closely.

Besides, what choice did they have in the matter? He raced because he

was good at it, Watto knew he was good at it, and whatever Watto wanted of

him he would do. That was the price you paid when you were a slave, and

Anakin Skywalker had been a slave all his life.

Arch Canyon rose broad and deep before him, an expanse of rock leading

into Jag Crag Gorge, a twisting channel the racers were required to navigate

on their way to the high flats beyond. Sebulba was just ahead, rocketing low

and tight across the ground, trying to put some distance between Anakin and

himself. Behind Anakin, close now, were three other racers spread out

against the horizon. A quick glance revealed Mawhonic, Gasgano, and Rimkar

trailing in his strange bubble pod. All three were gaining. Anakin started

to engage his thrusters, then drew back. They were too close to the gorge.

Too much power there, and he would be in trouble. Response time in the

channel was. compacted down to almost nothing. It was better to wait.

Mawhonic and Gasgano seemed to agree, settling their Pods into place

behind his as they approached the split in the rock. But Rimkar was not

content to wait and roared past Anakin split seconds before they entered the

cleft and disappeared into darkness.

Anakin leveled out his Pod, lifting slightly from the rockstrewn floor

of the channel, letting his memory and his instincts take him down the

winding cut. When he raced, everything around him slowed down rather than

sped up. It was different than you'd expect. Rock and sand and shadows flew

past in a wild mix of patterns and shapes, and still he could see so

clearly. All the details seemed to jump out at him, as if illuminated by

exactly what should make them so difficult to distinguish. He could almost

close his eyes and drive, he thought. He was that much in tune with

everything around him, that much aware of where he was.

He eased swiftly down the channel, catching glimpses of Rimkar's engine

exhausts as they flashed crimson in the shadows. Far, far overhead, the sky

was a brilliant blue streak down the center of the mountain, sending a frail

streamer of light into the gap that lost brilliance with every meter it

dropped so that by the time it reached Anakin and his fellow racers, it

barely cut the dark. Yet Anakin was at peace, lost deep within himself as he

drove his Pod, bonded with his engines, given over to the throb and hum of

his racer and the soft, velvet dark that folded about.

When they emerged into the light once more, Anakin jammed the thruster

bars forward and streaked after Sebulba. Mawhonic and Gasgano were right

behind. Ahead, Rimkar had caught Sebulba and was trying to edge past.

The

lanky Dug lifted his split-X engines slightly to scrape against Rirnkar's

Pod. But Rimkar's rounded shell eased smoothly away, unaffected. Side by

side the racers tore across the high flats, headed for Metta Drop.

Anakin

closed on them, drawing away from Mawhonic and Gasgano. People said what

they wanted about Watto-and there was plenty to say that wasn't good-but

he

had an eye for Podracers. The big engines jumped obediently as Anakin fed

fuel into the thrusters, and in seconds he was drawing alongside Sebulba's

split-X.

They were even when they reached Metta Drop and rocketed over and

tumbled straight down.

The trick with drops, as every racer knew, was to gather enough speed

going down to gain time over your opponents, but not so much speed that the

racer couldn't pull out of the drop and level out again before it nose-dived

into the rocks below. So when Sebulba pulled out early, Anakin was

momentarily surprised. Then he felt the backwash of the split-X

engines

hammer into his Pod. The treacherous Dug had only looked as if he would pull

out and instead had lifted away and then deliberately fishtailed atop both

Anakin and Rimkar, using his exhaust to slam them against the cliff face.

Rimkar, caught completely by surprise, jammed his thruster bars forward

in an automatic response that took him right into the mountain.

Metal

fragments of Pod and engines careened away from the rock wall in a fiery

shower, leaving a long black scar along the ravaged surface.

Anakin might have gone the same way but for his instincts.

Almost

before he knew what he was doing, at the same instant he felt the backwash

of Sebulba's engines slam into him, he lifted out of his own descent and

away from the mountain, almost colliding with a surprised Sebulba, who

veered off wildly to save himself. Anakin's sudden wrenching of his Pod's

steering took him spinning away into the midday, off course and out of

control. He pulled back on the steering, eased off on the thrusters, cut the

fuel supply to the big engines, and watched the ground rise up to meet him

in a rush of sand and reflected light.

He struck the ground in a bone-wrenching skid that severed both control

cables, the big engines flying off in two directions while the Pod careened

first left, then right, and then began to roll. Anakin could only brace

himself inside, spinning and twisting in a roil of sand and heat, praying

that he didn't wind up against an outcropping of rock. Metal shrieked in

protest and dust filled the Pod's interior. Somewhere off to his right, an

engine exploded in a ground-shaking roar. Anakin's arms were stretched out

to either side, keeping him squarely placed through the pummeling the Pod

experienced as it continued to roll and then roll some more.

Finally, it stopped, tilted wildly to one side. Anakin waited a moment,

then loosened his restraining belt and crawled out. The heat of the desert

rose to meet him, and the blinding sunlight bore down through his goggles.

Overhead, the last of the Podracers streaked away into the blue horizon,

engines whining and booming. Silence followed, deep and profound.

Anakin glanced left and right at what remained of his engines, taking

in the damage, assessing the work they would need to operate again.

He

looked finally at his Pod and grimaced. Watto would not be happy.

But then Watto seldom was.

Anakin Skywalker sat down with his back against the ruined Pod, gaining

what small relief he could from its shadow in the glare of Tatooine's twin

suns. A landspeeder would be along in a few minutes to pick him up.

Watto

would be there to chew him out. His mother would be there to give him a hug

and take him home. He wasn't satisfied with how things had turned out, but

he wasn't discouraged either. He could have won the race if Sebulba had

played fair. He could have won easily.

He sighed and tipped back his helmet.

One day soon he would win a lot of races. Maybe even next year, when he

reached the age often.

2

Do you have any idea what this is going to cost me, boy? Do you have

any idea at all? Oba chee ka!"

Watto hovered before him, launching into Huttese without even thinking

about it, choosing a language that offered a vast array of insulting

adjectives he could draw upon. Anakin stood stoically in place, his young

face expressionless, his eyes fastened on the pudgy blue Toydarian hovering

before him. Watto's wings were a blur of motion, beating with such ferocity

it seemed as if they must surely fly off his lumpy little body.

Anakin

stifled an urge to laugh as he imagined this happening. It would not do to

laugh just now.

When Watto paused for breath, Anakin said quietly, "It wasn't my fault.

Sebulba flashed me with his port vents and nearly smashed me into Metta

Drop. He cheated."

Watto's mouth worked as if chewing something, his snout wrinkling over

his protruding teeth. "Of course he cheated, boy! He always cheats!

That's

how he wins! Maybe you should cheat just a little now and then! Maybe then

you wouldn't crash your Pod time after time and cost me so much money!"

They were standing in Watto's shop in the merchants' district of Mos

Espa, a dingy mud-and-sand hut fronting an enclosure packed with rocket and

engine parts salvaged from scrapped and junked wrecks. It was cool and

shadowy inside, the planet's heat shut out by the thick walls, but even here

dust hung in the air in hazy streamers caught by the ambient light cast by

glow lamps. The race had long since ended and the planet's twin suns had

dropped toward the horizon with evening's slow approach. The wrecked

Podracer and its engines had been transported by mechanic droids from the

flats back to the shop. Anakin had been transported back as well, though

with somewhat less enthusiasm.

"Rassa dwee cuppa, peedunkel!" Watto screamed, starting in again on

Anakin in a fresh burst of Huttese.

The pudgy body lurched forward a few centimeters with each epithet,

causing Anakin to step back in spite of his resolve. Watto's bony arms and

legs gestured with the movements of his head and body, giving him a comical

appearance. He was angry, but Anakin had seen him angry before and knew what

to expect. He did not cringe or bow his head in submission; he stood his

ground and took his scolding unflinchingly. He was a slave and Watto was his

master. Scoldings were part of life. Besides, Watto would wind down shortly

now, his anger released in a manner that would satisfy his need to cast

blame in a direction other than his own, and things would go back to normal.

All three fingers of Watto's right hand pointed at the boy.

"I

shouldn't let you drive for me anymore! That's what I should do! I should

find another driver!"

"I think that is a very good idea," Shmi agreed.

Anakin's mother had been standing to one side, not saying, anything

during the whole of Watto's diatribe, but now she was quick to take

advantage of a suggestion she would have made 'I herself, if asked.

Watto wheeled on her, spinning violently, wings whirring, and flew to

confront her. But her calm, steady gaze brought him up short, pinning him in

the air midway between mother and son. "It's too dangerous in any case,"

she

continued reasonably. "He's only a boy."

Watto was immediately defensive. "He's my boy, my property, and he'll

do what I want him to do!" "Exactly." Shmi's dark eyes stared out of her

worn, lined face with resolution. "Which is why he won't race anymore if you

don't want him to. Isn't that what you just said?"

Watto seemed confused by this. He worked his mouth and trunklike nose

in a rooting manner, but no words would come out. Anakin watched his mother

appreciatively. Her lank, dark hair was beginning to gray, and her once

graceful movements had slowed. But he thought she was beautiful and brave.

He thought she was perfect.

Watto advanced on her another few centimeters, then stopped once more.

Shmi held herself erect in the same way that Anakin did, refusing to concede

anything to her condition. Watto regarded her sourly for a moment more,

then

spun around and flew at the boy.

"You will fix everything you ruined, boy!" he snapped, shaking his

finger at Anakin. "You will repair the engines and the Pod and make them as

good as new! Better than new, in fact! And you'll start right now!

Right

this instant. Get out there and get to work!"

He spun back toward Shrni defiantly. "Still plenty of daylight for a

boy to work! Time is money!" He gestured at first mother and then son.

"Get

on with it, the both of you! Back to work, back to work!"

Shmi gave Anakin a warm smile. "Go on, Anakin," she said softly.

"Dinner will be waiting."

She turned and went out the door. Watto, after giving Anakin a final

withering glance, followed after her. Anakin stood in the shadowed room for

a moment, staring at nothing. He was thinking that he shouldn't have lost

the race. Next time-and there would be a next time, if he knew Watto-he

wouldn't.

Sighing in frustration, he turned and went out the back of the shop

into the yard. He was a small boy, even at nine years of age, rather

compactly built, with a mop of sandy hair, blue eyes, a pug nose, and an

inquisitive stare. He was quick and strong for his age, and he was gifted in

ways that constantly surprised those around him. He was already an

accomplished driver in the Podraces, something no human of any age had ever

been before. He was gifted with building skills that allowed him to put

together almost anything. He was useful to Watto in both areas, and Watto

was not one to waste a slave's talent.

But what no one knew about him except his mother was the way he sensed

things. Frequently he sensed them before anyone even knew they would happen.

It was like a stirring in the air, a whisper of warning or suggestion that

no one else could feel. It had served him well in the Podraces, but it was

also there at other times. He had an affinity for recognizing how things

were or how they ought to be. He was only nine years old and he could

already see the world in ways most adults never would.

For all the good it was doing him just at the moment.

He kicked at the sand in the yard as he crossed to the engines and Pod

the droids had dumped there earlier. Already his mind was working on what it

would take to make them operable again. The right engine was almost

untouched, if he ignored the scrapes and tears in the metal skin. The left

was a mess, though. And the Pod was battered and bent, the control panel a

shambles.

"Fidget," he muttered softly. "Just fidget!"

Mechanic droids came out at his beckoning and set to work removing the

damaged parts of the racer. He was only minutes into sorting through the

scrap when he realized there were parts he needed that Watto did not have on

hand, including thermal varistats and thruster relays. He would have to

trade for them from one of the other shops before he could start on a

reassembly. Watto would not like that. He hated asking for parts from other

shops, insisting that anything worth having he already had, unless it came

from off world. The fact that he was trading for what he needed didn't seem

to take the edge off his rancor at having to deal with the locals.

He'd

rather win what he needed in a Podrace.

Or simply steal it.

Anakin looked skyward, where the last of the day's light was beginning

to fade. The first stars were coming out, small pinpricks against the

deepening black of the night sky. Worlds he had never seen and could only

dream about waited out there, and one day he would visit them. He would not

be here forever. Not him.

"Psst! Anakin!" A voice whispered cautiously to him from the deep

shadows at the back of the yard, and a pair of small forms slipped through

the narrow gap at the fence corner where the wire had failed. It was

Kitster, his best friend, creeping into view with Wald, mother friend,

following close behind. Kitster was small and dark, his hair cut in a close

bowl about his head, his clothing loose and nondescript, designed to

preserve moisture and deflect heat and sand. Wald, trailing uncertainly, was

a Rodian, an off-worlder who had come to Tatooine only recently. He was

several years younger than his friends, but bold enough that they let him

hang around with them most of the time.

"Hey, Annie, what're you doing?" Kitster asked, glancing around

doubtfully, keeping a wary eye out for Watto.

Anakin shrugged.

"Watto says I have to fix the Pod up again, make it like new."

"Yeah, but not today," Kitster advised solemnly. "Today's almost over.

C'mon. Tomorrow's soon enough for that. Let's go get a ruby bliel." It was

their favorite drink. Anakin felt his mouth water.

"I can't. I have to stay and work on this until..." He stopped.

Until

dark, he was going to say, but it was nearly dark already, so...

"What'll we buy them with?" he asked doubtfully.

Kitster motioned toward Waldo

"He's got five druggats he says he found somewhere or other."

He gave Wald a sharp look.

"He says."

"Got'em right here, I do."

Wald's strange, scaly head nodded assurance, his protruding eyes

blinking hard. He pulled on one green ear.

"Don't you believe me?"

Wald said in Huttese. "Yeah, yeah, we believe you."

Kitster winked at Anakin. "C'mon, let's go before old flapping wings

gets back."

They went out through the gap in the fence and down the road behind,

turned left, and hurried through the crowded plaza toward the food stores

just ahead. The streets were still crowded, but the traffic was all headed

homeward or to the Hutt pleasure dens. The boys zipped smoothly through

knots of people and carts, past speeders hovering just off surface, down

walks beneath awnings in the process of being drawn up, and along stacks of

goods being set inside under lock and key.

In moments, they had reached the shop that sold ruby bliels and had

worked their way up to the counter.

Wald was as good as his word, and he produced the requisite druggats in

exchange for three drinks and handed one to each of his friends. They took

them outside, sipping at the gooey mixture through straws, and made their

way slowly back down the street, chatting among themselves about racers and

speeders and mainline ships, about battle cruisers and starfighters and the

pilots who captained them. They would all be pilots one day, they promised

each other, a vow they sealed with spit and hand slaps. They were right in

the middle of a heated discussion over the merits of starfighters, when a

voice close to them said,

"Give me the choice, I'd take a Z-95 Headhunter every time." The boys

turned as one. An old spacer stood leaning on a speeder hitch, watching

them. They knew what he was right away from his clothing, weapons, and

the

small, worn fighter corps insignia he wore stitched to his tunic. It was a

Republic insignia. You didn't see many of those on Tatooine.

"Saw you race today," the old spacer said to Anakin. He was tall and

lean and corded, his face weatherworn and sun-browned, his eyes an odd color

of gray, his hair cut short so that it bristled from his scalp, his smile

ironic and warm. "What's your name?"

"Anakin Skywalker," Anakin told him uncertainly. "These are my friends,

Kitster and Wald."

The old spacer nodded wordlessly at the other two, keeping his eyes

fixed on Anakin. "You fly like your name, Anakin. You walk the sky like you

own it. You show promise." He straightened and shifted his weight with

practiced ease, glancing from one boy to the next. "You want to fly the big

ships someday?"

All three boys nodded as one. The old spacer smiled.

"There's nothing like it. Nothing. Flew all the big boys, once upon a

time, when I was younger. Flew everything there was to fly, in and out of

the corps. You recognize the insignia, boys?"

Again, they nodded, interested now, caught up in the wonder of corning

face-to-face with a real pilot-not just of Podracers, but of fighters and

cruisers and mainline ships.

"It was a long time ago," the spacer said, his voice suddenly distant.

"I left the corps six years back. Too old. Time passes you by, leaves you to

find something else to do with what's left of your life." He pursed his

lips. "How're those ruby bliels? Still good? Haven't had one in years.

Maybe

now's a good time. You boys care to join me? Care to drink a ruby bliel with

an old pilot of the Republic?"

He didn't have to ask twice. He took them back down the street to the

shop they had just left and purchased a second drink for each of them and

one for himself. They went back outside to a quiet spot off the plaza and

stood sipping at the bliels and staring up at the sky. The light was gone,

and stars were sprinkled all over the darkened firmament, a wash of silver

specks nestled against the black.

"Flew all my life," the old spacer advised solemnly, eyes fixed on the

sky. "Flew everywhere I could manage, and you know what? I couldn't get to a

hundredth of what's out there. Couldn't get to a millionth. But it was fun

trying. A whole lot of fun."

His gaze shifted to the boys again. "Flew a cruiser filled with

Republic soldiers into Makem Te during its rebellion. That was a scary

business. Flew Jedi Knights once upon a time, too."

"Jedi!" Kitster exhaled sharply. "Wow!"

"Really? You really flew Jedi?" Anakin pressed, eyes wide. The spacer

laughed at their wonder.

"Cross my heart and call me bantha fodder if I'm lying. It was a long

time ago, but I flew four of them to a place I'm not supposed to talk about

even now. Told you. I've been everywhere a man can get to in one lifetime.

Everywhere."

"I want to fly ships to those worlds one day," Anakin said softly.

Wald snorted doubtfully. "You're a slave, Annie. You can't go

anywhere."

The old pilot looked down at Anakin. The boy couldn't look at him.

"Well," he said softly, "in this life you're often born one thing and

die another. You don't have to accept that what you're given when you come

in is all you'll have when you leave." He laughed suddenly. "Reminds me of

something. I flew the Kessel Run once, long ago. Not many have done that and

lived to tell about it. Lots told me I couldn't do it, told me not to bother

trying, to give it up and go on to something else. But I wanted that

experience, so I just went ahead and found a way to prove them wrong."

He

looked down at Anakin. "Could be that's what you'll have to do, young

Skywalker. I've seen how you handle a Podracer. You got the eyes for it, the

feel. You're better than I was at twice your age." He nodded solemnly.

"You

want to fly the big ships, I think maybe you will."

He stared at the boy, and Anakin stared back. The old spacer smiled and

nodded slowly.

"Yep, Anakin Skywalker, I do think maybe one day you will."

***

He arrived home late for dinner and received his second scolding of the

day. He might have tried making something up about having to stay late for

Watto, but Anakin Skywalker didn't lie to his mother. Not about anything,

not ever. He told her the truth, about stealing away with Kitster and Wald,

about drinking ruby bliels, and about sharing stories with the old spacer.

Shmi wasn't impressed. She didn't like her son spending time with people she

didn't know, even though she understood how boys were and how capable Anakin

was of looking after himself.

"If you feel the need to avoid the work you've been given by Watto,

come see me about the work that needs doing here at home," she advised him

sternly.

Anakin didn't argue with her, smart enough by now to realize that

arguing in these situations seldom got him anywhere. He sat quietly, eating

with his head down, nodding when nodding was called for, thinking that his

mother loved him and was worried for him and that made her anger and

frustration with him all right.

Afterward, they sat outside on stools in front of their home in the

cool night air and looked up at the stars. Anakin liked sitting outside at

night before bed. It wasn't so close and confined as it was inside. He could

breathe out here. His home was small and shabby and packed tight against

dozens of others, its thick walls comprised of a mixture of mud and sand.

It

was typical of quarters provided for slaves in this part of Mos Espa, a hut

with a central room and one or two bumpouts for sleeping. But his mother

kept it neat and clean, and Anakin had his own room, which was rather

larger

than most and where he kept his stuff. A large workbench and tools took up

most of the available space. Right now he was engaged in building a protocol

droid to help his mom. He was adding the needed parts a piece at a time,

scavenging them from wherever he could, slowly restoring the whole.

Already

it could talk and move about and do a few things. He would have it up and

running soon.

"Are you tired, Annie?" his mother asked after a long silence.

He shook his head. "Not really."

"Still thinking about the race?"

"Yes."

And he was, but mostly he was thinking about the old spacer and his

tales of flying mainline ships to distant worlds, of going into battle for

the Republic, and of rubbing shoulders with Jedi Knights.

"I don't want you racing Pods anymore, Annie," his mother said softly.

"I don't want you to ask Watto to let you. Promise me you won't."

He nodded reluctantly. "I promise." He thought about it a moment.

"But

what if Watto tells me I have to, Mom? What am I supposed to do then? I have

to do what he tells me. So if he asks, I have to race."

She reached over and put a hand on his arm, patting him gently.

"I

think maybe after today he won't ask again. He'll find someone else."

Anakin didn't say so, but he knew his mother was wrong. There wasn't

anyone better than he was at Podracing. Not even Sebulba, if he couldn't

cheat. Besides, Watto would never pay to have someone else drive when he

could have Anakin do it for free. Watto would stay mad another day or two

and then begin to think about winning again. Anakin would be back in the

Podraces before the month was out.

He gazed skyward, his mother's hand resting lightly on his arm, and

thought about what it would be like to be out there, flying battle cruisers

and fighters, traveling to far worlds and strange places. He didn't care

what Wald said, he wouldn't be a slave all his life. Just as he wouldn't

always be a boy. He would find a way to leave Tatooine. He would find a way

to take his mother with him. His dreams whirled through his head as he

watched the stars, a kaleidoscope of bright images. He imagined how it

would

be. He saw it clearly in his mind, and it made him smile.

One day, he thought, seeing the old spacer's face in the darkness

before him, the wry smile and strange gray eyes, I'll do everything you've

done. Everything.

He took a deep breath and held it.

I'll even fly with Jedi Knights.

Slowly he exhaled, the promise sealed.

3

The small Republic space cruiser, its red color the symbol of

ambassadorial neutrality, knifed through starry blackness toward the emerald

bright planet of Naboo and the cluster of Trade Federation fleet ships that

encircled it. The ships were huge, blocky fortresses, tubular in shape,

split at one end and encircling an orb that sheltered the bridge,

communications center, and hyperdrive. Armaments bristled from every port

and bay, and Trade Federation fighters circled the big beasts like gnats.

The more traditionally shaped Republic cruiser, with its tri-engines, flat

body, and squared-off cockpit, looked insignificant in the shadow of the

Trade Federation battleships, but it continued toward them, undeterred.

The cruiser's captain and copilot sat side by side at the forward

console, hands moving swiftly over the controls as they steered closer to

the ship with the Trade Federation viceroy insignia emblazoned on its

bridge. There was a nervous energy to their movements that was unmistakable.

From time to time, they would glance uneasily at each other-and over their

shoulders at the figure who stood in the shadows behind.

On the viewscreen in front of them, captured from his position on the

bridge of the battleship toward which they were headed, was Trade Federation

Viceroy Nute Gunray, his reddish orange eyes staring out at them

expectantly. The Neimoidian wore his perpetually sour expression, mouth

downturned, bony brow emphasizing his discontent. His green-gray skin

reflected the ambient lighting of the ship, all pale and cold in contrast to

his dark robes, collar, and tricornered headdress.

"Captain. "

The cruiser captain turned slightly in her seat to acknowledge the

figure concealed in the shadows behind her. "Yes, sir?"

"Tell them we wish to board at once."

The voice was deep and smooth, but the measure of resolution it

contained was unmistakable.

"Yes, sir," the captain said, giving the copilot a covert glance, which

the copilot returned. The captain faced Nute Gunray on the screen. "With all

due respect, Viceroy, the ambassadors for the supreme chancellor have

requested that they be allowed to board immediately."

The Neimoidian nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, Captain, of course. We would

be happy to receive the ambassadors at their convenience. Happy to,

Captain."

The screen went dark. The captain hesitated, glancing back at the

figure behind her. "Sir?"

"Proceed, Captain," Qui-Gon Jinn said.

The Jedi Master watched silently as the Trade Federation battleship

loomed before them, filling the viewport with its gleaming bulk. Qui-Gon was

a tall, powerfully built man with prominent, leonine features. His beard and

mustache were close cropped and his hair was worn long and tied back.

Tunic,

pants, and hooded robe were typically loose-fitting and comfortable, a sash

binding them at his waist where his lightsaber hung just out of view, but

within easy reach.

Qui-Gon's sharp blue eyes fixed on the battleship as if to see what

waited within. The Republic's taxation of the trade routes between the star

systems had been in dispute since its inception, but until now all the Trade

Federation had done in response was to complain. The blockade of Naboo was

the first act of outright defiance, and while the Federation was a powerful

body, equipped with its own battle fleet and army of droids, its action here

was atypical. The Neimoidians were entrepreneurs, not fighters. They lacked

the backbone necessary to undertake a challenge to the Republic.

Somehow

they had found that backbone. It bothered Qui-Gon that he could not explain

how.

He shifted his weight as the cruiser moved slowly into the gap in the

Trade Federation flagship's outer wheel toward the hangar bay. Tractor beams

took hold, guiding the cruiser inside where magnetic clamps locked the ship

in place. The blockade had been in effect now for almost a month.

The

Republic Senate continued to debate the action, searching for an amicable

way to resolve the dispute. But no progress had been made, and at last the

supreme chancellor had secretly notified the Jedi Council that he had sent

two Jedi directly to the ostensible initiators of the blockade, the

Neimoidians, in an effort to resolve the matter more directly. It was a bold

move. In theory, the Jedi Knights served the supreme chancellor, responding

on his direction to life-threatening situations. But any interference in the

internal politics of the Senate's member bodies, particularly where an armed

conflict between worlds was involved, required Senate approval. The supreme

chancellor was skirting the edges of his authority in this case. At best,

this was a covert action and would spark heated debate in the Senate at a

later date.

The Jedi Master sighed. While none of this was his concern, he could

not ignore the implications of what it meant if he failed. The Jedi Knights

were peacemakers; that was the nature of their order and the dictate of

their creed. For thousands of years they had served the Republic, a constant

source of stability and order in a changing universe. Founded as a

theological and philosophical study group so far back that its origins were

the stuff of myth, the Jedi had only gradually become aware of the presence

of the Force. Years had been spent in its study, in contemplation of its

meaning, in mastery of its power. Slowly the order had evolved, abandoning

its practice of and belief in a life of isolated meditation in favor of a

more outward-looking commitment to social responsibility. Understanding the

Force sufficiently to master its power required more than private study.

It

required service to the greater community and implementation of a system of

laws that would guarantee equal justice for all. That battle was not yet

won. It probably never would be. But the Jedi Knights would not see it lost

for lack of their trying.

In the time of Qui-Gon Jinn, ten thousand Jedi Knights in service to

the Republic carried on the struggle each day of their lives in a hundred

thousand different worlds spread across a galaxy so vast it could barely be

comprehended.

He turned slightly as his companion in this present enterprise arrived

on the bridge and came up to stand beside him. "Are we to board?" Obi- Wan

Kenobi asked softly.

Qui-Gon nodded. "The viceroy will meet with us."

He glanced momentarily at his protege, taking his measure. Obi-Wan, in

his mid-twenties, was more than thirty years younger and still learning his

craft. He was not yet a full Jedi, but he was close to being ready. Obi-Wan

was shorter than Qui-Gon, but compact and very quick. His smooth, boyish

face suggested an immaturity that had been long since shed. He wore the same

type of clothes as Qui-Gon, but his hair was cut in the style of a Padawan

learner, short and even, save for the tightly braided pigtail that hung over

his right shoulder.

Qui-Gon was staring out the viewport at the interior of the Trade

Federation battleship when he spoke again. "Why Naboo, do you think, my

young apprentice? Why blockade this particular planet, when there are so

many to choose from, most larger and more likely to feel the effects of such

an action?"

Obi-Wan said nothing. Naboo was indeed an odd choice for an action of

this sort, a planet at the edge of the galaxy, not particularly important in

the scheme of things. Its ruler, Amidala, was something of an unknown.

New

to the throne, she had only been Queen a few months before the blockade had

begun. She was young, but it was rumored she was prodigiously talented and

extremely well trained. It was said she could hold her own with anyone in a

political arena. It was said she could be circumspect or bold when

necessary, and was wise beyond her years.

The Jedi had been shown a hologram of Amidala before they left

Coruscant. The Queen favored theatrical paint and ornate dress, cloaking

herself in trappings and makeup that disguised her true appearance while

lending her an aura of both splendor and beauty. She was a chameleon of

sorts, masking herself to the world at large and finding companionship

almost exclusively with a cadre of handmaidens who were always with her.

Qui-Gon hesitated a moment longer, thinking the matter through, then

said to Obi-Wan, "Come, let's be off." They passed downward through the

bowels of the ship to the main hatch, waited for the light to turn green,

and released the locking bar so that the ramp could lower. Raising their

hoods to help conceal their faces, they stepped out into the light.

A protocol droid named TC-14 was waiting to escort them to their

meeting. The droid took them from the bay down a series of hallways to an

empty conference room and motioned them inside.

"I hope your honored sirs will be comfortable here." The tinny voice

reverberated inside the metal shell. "My master will be with you shortly."

The droid turned and went out, closing the door softly behind. Qui-Gon

watched it go, glanced briefly at the exotic, birdlike creatures caged near

the door, then moved to join Obi-Wan at a broad window that looked out

through the maze of Federation battleships to where the lush green sphere of

Naboo hung resplendent against the dark sky.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Obi-Wan said after a moment's

contemplation of the planet.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I don't sense anything."

Obi-Wan nodded. "It's not about here, Master. It's not about this

mission. It's something...elsewhere. Something elusive..." The older Jedi

put his hand on the other's shoulder. "Don't center on your anxiety,

Obi-Wan. Keep your concentration on the here and now, where it belongs."

"Master Yoda says I should be mindful of the future..."

"But not at the expense of the present." Qui - Gon waited until his

young apprentice was looking at him. "Be mindful of the living Force, my

young Padawan."

To his credit, Obi-Wan managed a small smile. "Yes, Master." He looked

out the viewport again, eyes distant. "How do you think the viceroy will

deal with the supreme chancellor's demands?"

Qui-Gon gave an easy shrug. "These people are cowards. I they will not

be hard to persuade. The negotiations will be I short."

On the bridge of the Trade Federation battleship, Neimoidian Viceroy

Nute Gunray and his lieutenant, Daultay Dofine, stood staring in shock at

the protocol droid they had sent to look after the supreme chancellor's

ambassadors.

"What did you say?" Gunray hissed furiously.

TC-14 was impervious to the look the Neimoidian gave it.

"The

ambassadors are Jedi Knights. One of them is a Jedi Master. I am quite

certain of it."

Dofine, a flat-faced, restless sort, wheeled on his companion in

dismay. "I knew it! They were sent to force a settlement! The game's up!

Blind me, we're done for!"

Gunray made a placating gesture. "Stay calm! I'll wager the Senate is

completely unaware of the supreme chancellor's moves in this matter.

Go.

Distract them while I contact Lord Sidious."

The other Neimoidian gaped at him. "Are you brain-dead? I'm not going

in there with two Jedi Knights! Send the droid!"

He waved hurriedly at TC-14, who bowed, made a small squeaky sound in

response, and went out.

When the protocol droid was gone, Dofine summoned Rune Haako, the third

member of their delegation, drew both his compatriots to a closed, separate

space on the bridge where they could be neither seen nor heard by anyone

else, and triggered a holographic communication.

It took a few moments for the hologram to appear. As it did so, a

stoop - shouldered, dark-robed shape appeared, cloaked and hooded so that

nothing of its face could be seen. "What is it?" an impatient voice

demanded.

Nute Gunray found his throat so dry that for a moment he could not

speak. "The Republic ambassadors are Jedi Knights."

"Jedi?" Darth Sidious breathed the word softly, almost reverently.

There was a measure of calm about his acceptance of the news. "Are you

sure?"

Nute Gunray found what little courage he had been able to muster for

this moment quickly evaporating. He stared at the black form of the Sith

Lord in mesmerized terror. "They have been identified, my lord."

As if unable to endure the silence that followed, Daultay Dofine

charged into the gap, wild-eyed. "This scheme of yours has failed, Lord

Sidious! The blockade is finished! We dare not go up against Jedi Knights!"

The dark figure in the hologram turned slightly. "Are you saying you

would rather go up against me, Dofine? I am amused." The hood shifted toward

Gunray. "Viceroy!"

Nute stepped forward quickly. "Yes, my lord?"

Darth Sidious's voice turned slow and sibilant. "I don't want this

stunted piece of slime to pass within my sight again. Do you understand?

"

Nute's hands were shaking, and he clasped them together to still them.

"Yes, my lord."

He wheeled on Dofine, but the other was already making his way from the

bridge, his face filled with terror, his robes trailing behind him like a

shroud.

When he was gone, Darth Sidious said, "This turn of events is

unfortunate, but not fatal. We must accelerate our plans, Viceroy.

Begin

landing your troops. At once."

Nute glanced quickly at Rune Haako, who was trying his best to

disappear into the ether. "Ah, my lord, of course, but... is that action

legal?"

"I will make it legal, Viceroy."

"Yes, of course." Nute took a quick breath. "And the Jedi?"

Darth Sidious seemed to grow darker within his robes, his face lowering

further into shadow. "The supreme chancellor should never have brought the

Jern into this. Kill them now. Immediately. "

"Yes, my lord," Nute Gunray answered, but the hologram of the Sith Lord

had already vanished. He stared at the space it had left behind for a

moment, then turned to Haako. "Blow up their ship. I will send a squad of

battle droids to finish them."

In the conference room in which they had been left, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan

stared at each other across a long table.

"Is it customary for Neimoidians to make their guests wait this long?"

the younger Jedi asked.

Before Qui-Gon could respond, the door opened to admit the protocol

droid bearing a tray of drinks and food. TC-14 crossed to their table,

placed the tray before them, and handed each a drink. It stepped back then,

waiting. Qui-Gon motioned to his young companion, and they lifted the drinks

and tasted them.

Qui-Gon nodded at the droid, then looked at Obi-Wan. "I sense an

unusual amount of maneuvering for something as trivial as this trade

dispute. I sense fear as well."

Obi-Wan placed his drink back on the table. "Perhaps..."

An explosion rocked the room, spilling the drinks, sending the tray

with its food skidding toward the edge. The Jedi leapt to their feet in

response, lightsabers drawn and activated. The protocol droid backpedaled

quickly, arms lifting, muttering its apologies, looking every which way at

once.

"What's happened?" Obi-Wan asked quickly.

Qui-Gon hesitated, closed his eyes, and retreated deep within himself.

His eyes snapped open. "They've destroyed our ship."

He glanced around swiftly. It took only a moment for him to detect a

faint hissing sound from the vents near the doorway.

"Gas," he said to Obi-Wan in warning. In the cage beside the door, the

birdlike creatures began to drop like stones.

On the bridge, Nute Gunray and Rune Haako watched through a viewscreen

as a squad of battle droids marched into the hallway just outside the

conference room in which the Jedi were trapped. On crooked metal legs, they

approached the doorway, blasters held at the ready, a hologram of Nute

directing them from behind.

"They must be dead by now, but make certain," he directed the battle

droids, and switched off the hologram.

The Neimoidians watched closely as the foremost of the battle droids

opened the door and stepped back. A cloud of noxious green gas poured from

the room, and a solitary figure stumbled into view, arms waving.

"Excuse me, sirs, I'm so sorry," TC-14 babbled as it maneuvered through

the battle droids, holding aloft its tray of scattered food and spilled

drinks.

In the next instant the Jedi appeared, charging from the room with

lightsabers flashing. Qui-Gon's weapon sent a pair of the battle droids

flying in a shower of sparks and metal parts that scattered everywhere.

Obi-Wan's saber deflected blaster fire into several more. He raised his

hand, palm outward, and another of the droids went crashing into the wall.

On the bridge viewscreen, smoke and lingering clouds of green gas

obscured everything. Alarms began to sound throughout the battleship,

reverberating off its metal skin.

"What in blazes is going on down there?" Nute Gunray demanded of his

associate, eyes wide.

Rune Haako shook his head doubtfully. There was fear in his orange-red

eyes. "You've never encountered Jedi Knights before, have you?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but I don't see..."

The alarms continued to blare, and suddenly Nute Gunray was unabashedly

afraid. "Seal off the bridge!" he shouted frantically.

Rune Haako backed away as the doors to the bridge began to close.

His

voice was small and went unheard as he whispered to himself, "That won't be

enough."

In seconds, the Jedi were standing in the hallway outside the bridge,

dispatching the last of the battle droids that stood in their way.

An

unstoppable force, the two men worked in unison against their adversaries,

seemingly able to anticipate every form of attack. Lightsabers flashed and

stabbed in brilliant bursts of color. Droids and blasters fell away in

broken pieces.

"I want destroyer droids up here at once!" Nute Gunray screamed,

watching as one of the Jedi began cutting through the bridge door with his

lightsaber. He felt his throat tighten and his skin begin to crawl.

"Close the blast doors! Now!" One after another, the blast doors began

to shut and seal with hissing sounds. The crew stood transfixed as on the

viewscreen the Jedi continued their attack, lightsabers cutting at the

massive doors, melting away the steelcrete like soft butter. Mutters of

disbelief were heard, and Nute screamed at them to be silent.

Sparks

showered off the blast door under attack by the Jedi, and a red spot

appeared at its center where the larger man plunged his lightsaber into the

metal almost up to its hilt.

The viewscreen suddenly went blank. At the center of the door, the

metal began to turn molten and drop away. "They're still coming," Rune

Haako

whispered, gathering his robes as he backed away further. Viceroy Nute

Gunray said nothing in response. Impossible! he was thinking. Impossible!

Qui-Gon was hammering at the blast door with every ounce of strength he

possessed, determined to break through to the treacherous Neimoidians, when

his instincts warned him of danger from another quarter.

"Obi-Wan!" he shouted to his companion, who wheeled toward him at once.

"Destroyer droids!"

The younger Jedi nodded, smiling. "Offhand, I'd say this mission is

past the negotiation stage."

In the hallway just beyond the area in which the Jedi fought, ten

destroyer droids rolled into view. They resembled gleaming metal wheels as

they rounded a corner, smooth and silent in their approach. One by one they

began to unfold, releasing tripods of spidery legs and stunted arms into

which laser guns had been built. Crooked spines unlimbered, and the droids

rose to a standing position, armored heads cocked forward.

They were wicked-looking and deadly, and they were built for one

purpose only. Skittering around the final corner to the bridge entry, they

triggered their laser guns, filling the open area with a deadly crossfire.

When the lasers went still, the destroyer droids advanced, searching for

their prey. But the anteway was empty, and the Jedi Knights were gone.

On the bridge, Nute Gunray and Rune Haako watched the viewscreen

flicker back to life. The destroyer droids were reverting to their wheeled

forms, spinning away across the entry and down the hallway, clearly in

pursuit of the Jedi. "We have them on the run," Rune Haako breathed,

scarcely able to believe their good fortune. Nute Gunray said nothing,

thinking that their escape had been entirely too close. It was ridiculous

that they should be fighting Jedi Knights in any event. This was a matter of

commerce, not of politics. The Trade Federation was fully justified in

resisting the Republic Senate's foolish decision to impose a tax on trade

routes when there was no basis in law for doing so.

That the Neimoidians had found an ally to stand with them in this

matter, to advise them on imposing a blockade and forcing a withdrawal of

sanctions, was no cause for calling in the Jedi. He hunched his shoulders

and made a fuss over straightening his robes to disguise his shaking. He was

distracted suddenly by a call from the communications center behind him.

"Sir, a transmission from the city of Theed on Naboo." The viewscreen

to the planet flickered to life, and a woman's face appeared. She was young,

beautiful, and serene. An applied beauty mark of deepest crimson split her

lower lip, and a golden headdress framed her powdery-white face. She stared

out at the Neimoidians from the screen as if she were so far above and

beyond them as to be unapproachable.

"It's Queen Amidala herself," Rune Haako whispered, just out of holocam

view.

Nute Gunray nodded, moving closer. "At last we're getting results,"

he

whispered back. He moved to where he could be seen by the Queen. Cloaked in

her ceremonial robes, Amidala sat on her throne, an omatc chair on a raised

dais fronted by a low, flat-surfaced divider. The Queen was surrounded by

five handmaidens, all of them cloaked and hooded in crimson. Her gaze was

steady and direct as it took in the viceroy's leathery countenance.

"The Trade Federation is pleased you have chosen to come before us,

Your Highness," he began smoothly.

"You will not be so pleased when you hear what I have to say, Viceroy,"

she said flatly, cutting him short. "Your trade boycott is ended."

Nute fought down his shock, regained his composure, and smirked at

Rune. "Really, Your Highness? I was not aware..."

"I have word that the Senate is finally voting on the matter,"

she

continued, ignoring him. "I take it you know the outcome already, then."

Nute felt a measure of uncertainty take hold. "I wonder why they bother

to vote at all."

Amidala leaned forward slightly, and the Neimoidian could see the fire

in her brown eyes. "I have had enough of pretense, Viceroy. I am aware that

the supreme chancellor's ambassadors are with you now, and that you have

been commanded to reach a settlement. What is it to be?"

Nute Gunray felt a deep hole open in his waning confidence.

"I know nothing about any ambassadors. You must be mistaken." There was

a flicker of surprise on the Queen's face as she studied the viceroy

carefully.

"Beware, Viceroy," she said softly. "The Federation has gone too far

this time."

Nute shook his head quickly, drawing himself up in a defensive posture.

"Your Highness, we would never do anything in defiance of the Senate's will.

You assume too much."

Amidala sat motionless, brown eyes fixed on him-as if she could see the

truth he was trying to hide, as if he were made of glass. "We shall see,"

she said softly.

The viewscreen went blank. Nute Gunray drew a long breath and exhaled

slowly, not caring much for how this woman made him feel.

"She's right," Rune Haako said at his elbow. "The Senate will never

let..."

Nute lifted one hand to cut him short. "It's too late now. The invasion

is under way."

Rune Haako was silent for a moment. "Do you think she suspects an

attack?"

The Viceroy wheeled away. "I don't know, but I don't want to take any

chances. We must move quickly to disrupt all communications down there until

we're finished!"

In the main hangar bay of the ship, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi

crouched silently in the opening of a large circulation vent that overlooked

six massive double-winged Federation landing ships surrounded by a vast

array of transports. The transports were large boot-shaped vehicles with

bulbous noses. The doors that formed those noses gaped open, racks were

extended, and thousands of sleek silvery shapes were marching inside in

perfect formation to be secured. ..

"Battle droids," Qui-Gon said softly. There was surprise and dismay in

his deep voice.

"It's an invasion army," Obi-Wan said. They continued to watch for a

time, taking in the scene, counting transports and droids as they filled the

half - dozen landing craft, taking measure of the size of the army.

"It's an odd play for the Federation," Qui-Gon observed. "We've got to

warn the Naboo and contact Chancellor Valorum."

Obi-Wan nodded. "We'd best do it somewhere besides here."

His mentor glanced at him.

"Maybe we can hitch a ride with our friends down there."

"It's the least they can do after the way they've treated us so far."

Obi - Wan pursed his lips. "You were right about one thing, Master.

The

negotiations were short."

Qui-Gon Jinn smiled and beckoned him ahead.

4

A twilight that was misty and seemed perpetual lay in silvery gray

layers over the green lushness of Naboo as the Federation landing ships

descended out of the black infinity of space to settle slowly planetward.

One set of three moved away from the others, dropping silently through

clouds that hung still and endless across the world's emerald surface.

Ghostlike as they passed through the haze, double wings shaped like a giant

I, they materialized one by one near a vast, murky swamp. As they gently

landed next to the dark waters and clumps of trees and grasses, their metal

bodies parted to allow the bulbous-nosed transports to offload onto the

surface and begin forming up. Some distance away from the closest of the

landing craft, Obi-Wan Kenobi's head broke the swamp's still waters. A quick

breath, and he was gone again. He surfaced once more, farther away, and this

time took a moment to look back at the invasion force. Dozens of transports

filled with battle droids and tanks were moving into place in front of the

landing craft. Some hovered above the swamp's waters. Some had found

purchase on dry ground.

Far to his left, he caught sight of a shadowy form running through the

mist and trees. Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan took another deep breath, submerged

swiftly, and began to swim.

Qui-Gon Jinn slipped wraithlike through the swamp, listening to the

sounds of heavy rustling and snapping branches behind him as the Trade

Federation transports began to advance. Mixed with the deeper, heavier whine

of the transport engines was the higher pitched buzzing of STAPs-singie

trooper aerial platforms-small, individually piloted mobile gun units used

to transport battle droids as scouts for the main army. The STAPs whipped

above the watery terrain of Naboo, fleeting shadows as they surged in front

of the larger transports.

Animals of all shapes and sizes began to scatter from their places of

concealment, racing past Qui-Gon in search of safety. Ikopi, fulumpasets,

motts, peko pekos-the names recalled themselves instantly to the Jedi Master

from his preparation for this journey. Dodging the frightened creatures

stampeding around him, he cast about for Obi-Wan, then picked up his pace as

the dark shadow of a transport appeared out of the mist directly behind him.

He was running out of firm ground and searching for a way past a large

lake when he saw a strange froglike creature before him. It was squatting in

the water, its rubbery body crouched over a shell it had just pried open,

its long tongue licking out the insides with a quick whipping movement, its

throat swallowing. Casting aside the empty shell, it rose to face Qui-Gon,

its long, flat ears dangling from its amphibious head in broad flaps, its

ducklike snout working thoughtfully around whatever delicacy it had removed

from the shell. Eyes that protruded from the top of its head blinked in

confusion, taking in Qui-Gon and the animals about him, then seeing clearly

for the first time the massive shadow from which they fled.

"Oh, oh," the creature muttered, the syllables clouded, but

recognizable.

Qui-Gon broke left past the strange creature, anxious to get out of the

path of the approaching transport. The creature dropped the shell, eyes wide

and frantic, and grabbed onto Qui-Gon's robes.

"Hep me, hep me!" it cried plaintively, rubbery face contorting in

shock and desperation.

"Let go!" Qui-Gon snapped, trying in vain to break free.

The transport thundered toward them, skimming the surface of the swamp,

flattening grasses and stirring up water spouts in the wake of its passing.

It bore down on Qui-Gon as he fought to break free of the creature that

clung to him, dragging it sideways in a futile effort to escape.

Finally, with the transport only meters away and looming over him like

a building about to topple, the Jedi Master pushed the creature into the

shallow water and sprawled facedown on top of it. The Trade Federation

transport passed over them in a wash of sound and shocked air, the

vibrations hammering into their prone forms, flattening them into the mire.

When it was safely past, Qui-Gon pulled himself out of the mud and took

a deep, welcome breath. The strange creature rose with him, still clinging

to his arm, cloudy water dripping from its flat-billed face. It gave a quick

glance after the departing transport, then threw itself on Qui-Gon, hugging

him ecstatically.

"Oh boi, oh boi!" it gasped with a high-pitched, warbled sound. "I love

yous, love yous forever!"

The creature began kissing him.

"Let go!" Qui-Gon huffed. "Are you brainless? You almost got us

killed!"

The creature looked offended. "Brainless? I speak!"

"The ability to speak does not make you intelligent!" Qui-Gon was

having none of it. "Now let go of me and get out of here!"

He freed himself from the creature and began to move off, glancing

around uneasily as the high-pitched buzz of STAP's sounded in the distance.

The creature hesitated, then began trailing after him. "No, no, me stay

wit you! Me stay! Jar Jar be loyal, humble Gungan servant. Be yous friend,

me."

The Jedi Master barely glanced at him, watching the shadows, searching

now for Obi-Wan. "Thanks, but that won't be necessary. Better be off with

you."

Jar Jar the Gungan splashed after him, billed mouth working, arms

waving. "Oh, bot tis necessary! Tis demanded by da Guds. Tis life debt.

Me

know dis, sure as name be Jar Jar Binks!"

The swamp reverberated with the sound of STAP engines, and now two of

the gun platforms burst from the mist, bearing down on a fleeing Obi-Wan

Kenobi, battle droid drivers wheeling their speeders to the attack.

Qui-Gon pulled free his lightsaber, motioning Jar Jar away. "I have no

time for this now..."

"But must take me wit yous, keep me-" Jar Jar stopped, hearing the

STAPs, turning to see them bearing down, eyes going wide all over again.

"Oh, oh, we gonna-"

Qui-Gon grabbed the Gungan and threw him facedown in the swamp water

once more. "Stay put." He flicked on the lightsaber, bracing himself as

Obi-Wan and the pursuing STAP's approached.

Jar Jar's head popped up. "We gonna die!" he screamed.

The battle droids opened fire with laser cannons from their gun

platforms just as Obi-Wan reached his friend. Qui-Gon blocked the bolts with

his lightsaber and deflected them back into the attack craft. The STAPs

exploded in shards of hot metal and fell into the swamp.

An exhausted Obi-Wan wiped his muddied brow, gasping for breath.

"Sorry, Master. The swamp fried my lightsaber." He pulled out his weapon.

The business end was blackened and burned. Qui-Gon took it from him and gave

it a cursory inspection. Behind him, Jar Jar Binks pulled himself out of the

muddy swamp water and.blinked curiously at the newly arrived Jedi.

"You forgot to turn off your power again, didn't you, Obi-Wan?"

his

friend asked pointedly.

Obi-Wan nodded sheepishly. "It appears so, Master."

"It won't take long to recharge, but it will take some time to clean it

up. I trust you have finally learned your lesson, my young Padawan."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan accepted the proffered lightsaber with a

chagrined look.

Jar Jar pushed forward, amphibious feet flopping, ears flapping, long

limbs looking as if they might take him in almost any direction. "Yous save

me again, hey?" he asked Qui-Gon rhetorically.

Obi-Wan stared. "What's this?"

"A Gungan. One of the locals. His name's Jar Jar Binks." Qui-Gon's

attention was directed out at the swamp. "Let's go, before more of those

STAP's show up."

"More?" Jar Jar gasped worriedly. "Yous say more?"

Qui-Gon was already moving, shifting into a steady trot through the

mire. Obi-Wan was only a step behind, and it took a moment for Jar Jar to

catch up to them, his long legs working frantically, his eyes rolling.

"Exsqueeze me, but da most grand safest place is in Otoh Gunga,"

he

gasped at them, trying to catch their attention. All about, lost somewhere

in the mists, STAPs sounded their high-pitched whine. "Otoh Gunga," Jar Jar

repeated. "Tis where I grew. Tis safe city!"

Qui-Gon brought them to a halt, staring fixedly now at the Gungan.

"What did you say? A city?" Jar Jar nodded eagerly.

"Can you take us there?"

The Gungan seemed suddenly distraught. "Ah, oh, oh... mebbe me not

rilly take yous...not rilly, no."

Qui-Gon leaned close, his eyes dark. "No?"

Jar Jar looked as if he wished he could disappear into the swamp

completely. His throat worked and his billed mouth opened and closed like a

fish's. "Tis embarrassment, but...me afraid me be banished. Sent oot.

Me

forget Boss Nass do terrible hurt to me if go back dere. Terrible bad hurt."

A low, deep, pulsating sound penetrated the whine of the STAPs, rising

up through mist and gloom, growing steadily louder. Jar Jar glanced around

uneasily. "Oh, oh."

"You hear that?" Qui-Gon asked softly, placing a finger on the Gungan's

skinny chest. Jar Jar nodded reluctanrly. "There's a thousand terrible

things heading this way, my Gungari friend..."

"And when they find you, they will crush you into dust, grind you into

little pieces, and then blast you into oblivion," Obi-Wan added with more

than a little glee.

Jar Jar rolled his eyes and gulped. "Oh, oh. Yous point very good one."

He gestured frantically. "Dis way! Dis way! Hurry quick!"

In a rush, they raced away into the twilight mist.

Sometime later, the Jedi and the Gungan emerged from a deep stand of

swamp grass and thick rushes at the edge of a lake so murky that it was

impossible to see anything in the reflection of twilight off the surface.

Jar Jar bent double, three-fingered hands resting on bony knees as he fought

to catch his breath. His rubbery form twisted this way and that as he looked

back in the direction from which they had come, long ears flapping with the

movement. Obi-Wan shook his head at Qui-Gon Jinn in faint reproval. He was

not happy with the Jedi Master's decision to link up with this

foolish-looking creature.

Somewhere in the distance, they could hear the steady, deep thrum of

Federation transport engines.

"How much farther?" Qui-Gon pressed their reluctant guide.

The Gungan pointed at the lake. "We go underwater, okeday?"

The Jedi looked at each other, then extracted small containers from

their clothing, releasing portable breathing devices the size of the palms

of their hands.

"Me warning yous." Jar Jar's eyes shifted from one to the other.

"Gungans no like yous outlanders. Yous not gonna get warm welcome."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Don't worry, this hasn't been our day for warm

welcomes. "

"Get going," Qui-Gon motioned, fitting the device between his teeth.

The Gungan shrugged, as if to disclaim all responsibility for what

would follow, turned back to the lake, performed a wild double somersault,

and disappeared into the gloom.

The Jedi waded after him.

Downward into the murkiness they swam, the Jedi following the slender

form of the Gungan, who seemed far more at home in the water than on land.

He swam smoothly and gracefully, long limbs extended, body undulating with

practiced ease. They swam for a long time, angling steadily deeper, the

light from the surface fading slowly away behind them. What light there was

came from sources beneath the surface, not all of them visible. The minutes

slipped away, and Obi - Wan began to have second thoughts about what they

were doing.

Then suddenly there was a new light, this one a steady glow that came

from ahead. Slowly Otoh Gunga came into view. The city was comprised of a

cluster of bubbles that connected to one another like balloons and were

anchored to several huge rock pillars. One by one, the bubbles grew more

distinct, and it became possible to make out the particulars of the

structures within and the features of the Gungans as they moved about their

business.

Jar Jar swam directly toward one of the larger bubbles, the Jedi close

on his heels. When he reached the bubble, he pushed at it with his hands and

it gave way to him, accepting first his arms, then his head and body, and

finally his legs, swallowing him whole and closing behind him without

rupturing. Amazed, the Jedi followed, moving through the strange membrane,

entering the bubble without resistance.

Once inside, they found themselves on a platform that led down to a

square surrounded by buildings. Light emanated from the bubble's walls in a

steady glow, brightening the space inside. The Jedi found the air

breathable. As they descended to the square below, water dripping from their

clothing, Gungans began to catch sight of them and to scatter with small

cries of alarm.

In short order a squad of uniformed Gungan soldiers appeared, riding

two - legged mounts with billed faces not entirely dissimilar to their own.

Kaadu, Qui-Gon recalled-swamp runners with powerful legs, great endurance,

and keen senses. The Gungans carried long, deadly-looking electropoles,

which they used to motion back the distraught populace at the same time they

advanced on the intruders.

"Heyday ho, Cap'n Tarpals," Jar Jar greeted the leader of the squad

cheerfully. "Me back!"

"Notta gain, Jar Jar Binks!" the other snapped, clearly irritated.

"Yous goen ta Boss Nass. See what he say. Yous mebbe in big trubble dis

time."

Ignoring the Jedi, he gave Jar Jar a quick poke with his electropole,

sending a shock through the hapless Gungan that lifted him a half meter off

the ground. Jar Jar rubbed his backside ruefully, muttering.

The Gungan soldiers took them through the buildings of the city, down

several connecting passages, and into what, Jar Jar whispered to his

companions, was the High Tower Boardroom. The room was transparent on all

sides, and small glowing fish swam about the outside of the membrane, tiny

stars against a darker backdrop. A long, circular bench dominated one end of

the room with one section set higher than the rest. All the seats were

occupied by Gungan officials in their robes of office, and a way was quickly

made for the newcomers through Gungans already present to conduct other

business.

The Gungan occupying the highest seat was a heavyset, squat fellow so

compressed by age and weight that it was impossible to imagine he had ever

been as slender as Jar Jar Binks. Folds of skin draped from his body in

loose layers, his neck was compressed into his shoulders, and his face bore

such a sour look that even Jar Jar seemed more than a little cowed as they

were motioned forward.

The Gungan officials stared, muttering among themselves as the Jedi

approached. "What yous want, outlanders?" Boss Nass rumbled at them, after

identifying himself.

Qui-Gon Jinn told him, relating what had brought the Jedi to Naboo,

warning of the invasion taking place above, asking the Gungans to give them

help. The Gungan council listened patiently, saying nothing until Qui-Gon

was finished.

Boss Nass shook his head, the flesh of his thick neck jiggling with the

movement. "Yous can't be here. Dis army of maccaneks up dere tis not our

problem."

Qui-Gon held his ground. "That army of battle droids is about to attack

the Naboo. We must warn them."

"We no like da Naboo!" Boss Nass growled irritably. "And dey no like da

Gungans. Da Naboo think dey more smart den us. Dey think dey brains so big.

Dey have nutten ta do wit us cause we live in da swamp and dey live up dere.

Long time no have nutten ta do wit each other. Dis not gonna change because

ofmaccaneks."

"After that army takes control of the Naboo, they will come here and

take control of you," Obi-Wan said quietly. "

Boss Nass chuckled. "No, me think not. Me talk mebbe one, two times wit

Naboo in whole life, and no talk ever wit maccaneks. Maccaneks no come here!

Dey not even know Gungans exist!"

The remaining members of the council nodded in agreement, muttering

their verbal approval of Boss Nass's wisdom.

"You and the Naboo are connected," Obi-Wan insisted, his youthful face

intent, not ready to concede the matter. "What happens to one will affect

the other. You must understand this."

Boss Nass dismissed him with a wave of one thick hand. "We know nutten

of yo us, outlander, and we no care about da Naboo."

Before Obi-Wan could continue his argument, Qui-Gon stepped forward.

"Then speed us on our way," he demanded, bringing up one hand in a casual

motion, passing it smoothly before the Gungan chief's eyes in a quick

invocation of Jedi mind power.

Boss Nass stared at him, then nodded. "We speed yous far away."

Qui-Gon held his gaze. "We need transport to Theed."

"Okeday." Boss Nass nodded some more. "We give yous bongo. Da speedest

way tada Naboo is goen through da core. Yous go now."

Qui-Gon stepped back. "Thank you for your help. We go in peace."

As the Jedi turned to leave, Obi-Wan whispered, "Master, what is a

bongo?"

Qui-Gon glanced at him and cocked one eyebrow thoughtfully. "A ship of

some sort, I hope."

They were moving away from Boss Nass and the other Gungan officials

when they caught sight of Jar Jar Binks standing forlornly to one side,

wearing wrist binders and awaiting his fate. Qui-Gon slowed and made eye

contact with the unfortunate creature.

"Master," Obi-Wan said softly in warning. He knew Qui-Gon too well not

to see what was coming. '

The tall Jedi moved over to Jar Jar and stood looking at him.

"Dey setten yous up for bad fall!" the Gungan declared sullenly,

glancing around to see if anyone else might be listening. "Goen through da

core is bad danger."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Thank you, my friend."

Jar Jar Binks shrugged and looked sad. "Ahhh, tis okay." Then he gave

the Jedi Master a slow, sheepish grin and a hopeful look. "Hey, any hep here

would be hot."

Qui-Gon hesitated.

"We are short of time, Master," Obi-Wan advised quietly, moving to his

side.

The Jedi Master turned to face his protege, eyes distant. "Time spent

here may help us later. Jar Jar might be of some use."

Obi-Wan shook his head in frustration. His mentor was too eager to

involve himself when it was not necessary. He was too quick to adopt causes

that were not his own. It had cost him time and time again with the Jedi

Council. One day it would be his undoing.

He bent close. "I sense a loss of focus."

Qui-Gon's eyes fixed on him. "Be mindful, young Obi-Wan," he chastised

gently. "Your sensitivity to the living Force is not your strength."

The younger Jedi held his gaze only a moment, then looked away, stung

by the criticism. Qui-Gon turned from him and walked back to Boss Nass.

"What is to become of Jar Jar Binks?" he asked.

Boss Nass, who was engaged in conversation with another of the Gungan

officials, turned to him in annoyance, his heavy jowls puffing.

"Binks

breaks nocomeback law. Breaks exile. He be punished."

"Not too severely, I trust?" the Jedi Master pressed. "He has been of

great help to us."

A slow laugh rumbled out of Boss Nass. "Pounded unto death, dis one."

Somewhere in the background, Jar Jar Binks moaned loudly. There were

mutterings about the room. Even Obi-Wan, who was back at his Master's side,

looked shocked.

Qui-Gon was thinking fast. "We need a navigator to get us through the

core to Theed. I saved Jar Jar's life on the surface. He owes me for that. I

claim a life debt on him."

Boss Nass stared at the Jedi in silence, a deep frown furrowing his

brow and twisting his mouth. His head seemed to sink deeper into his

shoulders, into the wattles of skin that obscured his neck.

Then his small eyes sought the unfortunate Jar Jar, and he gestured.

"Binks?"

Jar Jar moved forward obediently to stand beside the Jedi.

"Yous haf life debt wit ills outlander?" Boss Nass demanded darkly.

Jar Jar nodded, head and ears hanging, but a flicker of hope springing

into his eyes.

"Your gods demand he satisfy that debt," Qui-Gon insisted, passing his

hand in front of Boss Nass's eyes, invoking his Jedi power once more.

"His

life belongs to me now."

The head Gungan considered the matter only a moment before nodding in

agreement. "His life tis yous. Worthless, anywhat. Beggone wit him."

A guard came forward and removed Jar Jar's wrist binders.

"Come, Jar Jar," Qui-Gon Jinn advised, turning him away.

"Through da core?" Jar Jar gasped, realizing suddenly what had

happened. "Count me outta dis! Better dead here den dead in da core. Me not

go...

But by then the Jedi were dragging him out of the room and all sight

and sound of Boss Nass.

***

On the bridge of the Trade Federation's lead battleship, Nute Gunray

and Rune Haako stood alone before a hologram of Darth Sidious. Neither of

the Neimoidians was looking at the other, and both were hoping the Sith Lord

could not sense what they were thinking.

"The invasion is on schedule, my lord," the viceroy was saying, robes

and headdress hiding the occasional twitching of his limbs as he faced the

cloaked and hooded form before him. "Our army nears Theed."

"Good. Very good." Darth Sidious spoke in a soft, calm voice. "I have

the Senate bogged down in procedures. By the time this incident comes up for

a vote, they will have no choice but to accept that your blockade has been

successful."

Nute Gunray glanced quickly at his compatriot. "The Queen has great

faith that the Senate will side with her."

"Queen Amidala is young and naive. You will find controlling her will

not be difficult." The hologram shimmered. "You have done well, Viceroy."

"Thank you, my lord," the other acknowledged as the hologram faded

away.

In the ensuing silence, the Neimoidians turned to each other with

knowing looks. "You didn't tell him," Rune Haako said accusingly.

"Of the missing Jedi?" Nute Gunray made a dismissive gesture. "No need

to tell him that. No need to tell him anything until we know for certain

what has happened."

Rune Haako studied him a long time before turning away.

"No, no need," he said softly, and walked from the room.

5

Obi-wan Kenobi sat hunched over the controls of the bongo,

familiarizing himself with their functions as Jar Jar Binks, positioned next

to him, rambled on and on about nothing. Qui-Gon sat in the shadows behind

them, silent and watchful.

"Dis is nutsen!" Jar Jar moaned as the bongo motored steadily away from

the shimmering lighted bubbles of Otoh Gunga and deeper into the waters of

Naboo.

The bongo was an ungainly little underwater craft that consisted mostly

of an electrical power plant, guidance system, and passenger seating.

It

looked somewhat like a species of squid, having flat, swept-back fins and

aft tentacles that rotated to propel the craft. Three bubble-canopied

passenger compartments were arranged symmetrically, one on each wing and the

third forward on the nose.

The Jedi and the Gungan occupied the nose compartment, where Obi- Wan

had assumed command of the controls and Jar Jar had been instructed to start

directing them through the core. It seemed that there were underwater

passageways all through the planet, and if you were able to locate the right

one, you could cut travel time considerably.

Or in the alternative, Obi-Wan thought darkly, you could cut your own

throat.

"We doomed," Jar Jar muttered plaintively. His flat-billed face lifted

away from the directional guidance system toward the Jedi, his long ears

swaying like ridiculous flaps. "Heydey ho? Where we goen, Cap'n Quiggon?"

"You're the navigator," Qui-Gon observed.

Jar Jar shook his head. "Me? Yous dreaming. Don't know nutten

'bout

dis, me."

Qui-Gon placed a hand on the Gungan's shoulder. "Just relax, my friend.

The Force will guide us."

"Da Force? What tis da Force?" Jar Jar did not look impressed.

"Maxibig

thing, dis Force, yous betcha. Gonna save me, yous, all us, huh?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in dismay. This was a disaster waiting to

happen. But it was Qui-Gon's disaster to manage. It was not his place to

interfere. Qui - Gon had made the decision to bring Jar Jar Binks along,

after all. Not because he was a skilled navigator or had displayed even the

slightest evidence of talent in any other regard, but because he was another

project that Qui-Gon, with his persistent disregard for the dictates of the

Council, had determined had value and could be reclaimed.

It was a preoccupation that both mystified and frustrated Obi-Wan.

His

mentor was perhaps the greatest Jedi alive, a commanding presence at

Council, a strong and brave warrior who refused to be intimidated by even

the most daunting challenge, and a good and kind man. Maybe it was the

latter that had gotten him into so much trouble. He repeatedly defied the

Council in matters that Obi-Wan thought barely worthy of championing. He was

possessed of his own peculiar vision of a Jedi's purpose, of the nature of

his service, and of the causes he should undertake, and he followed that

vision with unwavering singie - mindedness.

Obi-Wan was young and impatient, headstrong and not yet at one with the

Force in the way that Qui-Gon was, but he understood better, he thought, the

dangers of overreaching, of taking on too many tasks. Qui-Gon would dare

anything when he found a challenge that interested him, even if he risked

himself in the undertaking.

So it was here. Jar Jar Binks was a risk of the greatest magnitude, and

there was no reason to think that embracing such a risk would reap even the

smallest reward.

The Gungan muttered some more, all the while casting about through the

viewport as if seeking a road sign that would allow him to at least pretend

he knew what he was doing. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. Stay out of it, he

told himself sternly. Stay out of it.

"Here, take over," he snapped at Jar Jar.

He moved out of his seat to kneel close to Qui-Gon. "Master," he said,

unable to help himself, "why do you keep dragging these pathetic life-forms

along with us when they are of so little use?"

Qui-Gon Jinn smiled faintly. "He seems that way now perhaps, but you

must look deeper, Obi-Wan."

"I've looked deep enough, and there is nothing to see!" Obi-Wan flushed

with irritation. "He is an unneeded distraction!"

"Maybe for the moment. But that may change with time." Obi-Wan started

to say something more, but the Jedi Master cut him short. "Listen to me, my

young Padawan. There are secrets hidden in the Force that are not easily

discovered. The Force is vast and pervasive, and all living things are a

part of it. It is not always apparent what their purpose is, however.

Sometimes that purpose must be sensed first in order that it may be revealed

later."

Obi-Wan's young face clouded. "Some secrets are best left concealed,

Master." He shook his head. "Besides, why must you always be the one to do

the uncovering? You know how the Council feels about these...detours.

Perhaps, just once, the uncovering should be left to someone else."

Qui-Gon looked suddenly sad. "No, Obi-Wan. Secrets must be exposed when

found. Detours must be taken when encountered. And if you are the one who

stands at the crossroads or the place of concealment, you must never leave

it to another to act in I your place."

The last of the lights from Otoh Gunga disappeared in a wash of

murkiness, and the waters closed around them in a dark cloud. Jar Jar Binks

was taking the craft ahead at a slow, steady speed, no longer muttering or

squirming, his hands fixed on the controls. He flipped on the lights as

darkness closed about, and the broad yellow beams revealed vast stretches of

multicolored coral weaving and twisting away through the black.

"I respect your judgment in this, Master," Obi Wan said finally.

"But

it doesn't stop me from worrying."

Like all of the Jedi Knights, Obi-Wan Kenobi had been identified and

claimed early in his life from his birth parents. He no longer remembered

anything of them now; the Jedi Knights had become his family. Of those, he

was closest to Qui-Gon, his mentor for more than a dozen years, who had

become his most trusted friend.

Qui-Gon understood his attachment and shared it. Obi-Wan was the son he

would never have. He was the future he would leave behind when he died.

His

hopes for Obi-Wan were enormous, but he did not always share his student's

beliefs.

"Be patient with me, Obi-Wan," he replied softly. "A little faith

sometimes goes a long way."

The bongo navigated a coral tunnel, the bridge work revealed in deep

fissures of crimson and mauve in the glow of the little craft's lights.

All

about, brightly colored fish swam in schools through the craggy rock.

"Are the Gungans and the Naboo at war with each other?" Qui-Gon asked

Jar Jar thoughtfully.

The Gungan shook his head. "No war. Naboo and Gungans don't fight.

Long

time ago, mebbe. Now, Naboo keep outta swamp, Gungans keep outta plains.

Dey

don't even see each other."

"But they don't like each other?" the Jedi Master pressed.

Jar Jar snorted. "Da Naboo gotta big heads, alla time think dey so much

better den da Gungans! Big nuttens!"

Obi-Wan bent over Jar Jar Binks, his eyes directed out the viewport.

"Why were you banished, Jar Jar?" he asked.

The Gungan made a series of small smacking sounds with his billed lips.

"Tis kinda long story, but keeping dis short, me... oh, oh, ahhh...kinda

clumsy. "

"You were banished because you're clumsy?" Obi-Wan exclaimed in

disbelief.

The bongo turned down through an open stretch of water between two huge

coral shelves. Neither the Jedi nor the Gungan saw the dark shape that

detached itself from the larger outcropping and began to track them.

Jar Jar squirmed. "Me cause mebbe one or two little bitty axaudents.

Boom da gasser, crash der Bosses' heyblibber. Den dey '-! banish me." '!

Obi-Wan was not entirely sure what Jar Jar was telling him. But before

he could ask for clarification, there was a loud thump as something struck

the bongo, causing it to lurch sharply to one side. A huge crustacean with

multiple legs and massive jaws ringed with teeth had hooked them with its

long tongue and was drawing them steadily toward its widespread maw.

"Opee sea killer!" Jar Jar cried in dismay. "We doomed!"

"Full speed ahead, Jar Jar!" Qui-Gon ordered quickly, watching the jaws

open behind them.

But instead of pushing the throttles forward, Jar Jar panicked and

jammed them into reverse, causing the little ship to fly directly into the

mouth of their attacker. The bongo slammed into the back of the monster's

throat with a heavy thump that sent the Jedi reeling over the seats and into

the walls. Rows of jagged teeth began to close about them as the lights on

the control panel flickered uncertainly.

"Oh, oh," Jar Jar Binks said.

Obi-Wan leapt quickly back into the copilot's seat. "Here, give me the

controls!"

He seized the throttles and steering apparatus and shoved everything

into forward, full speed ahead. To his surprise, the opee sea killer's mouth

opened with a spasmodic jerk, and they shot through its teeth as if from a

laser cannon.

"We free! We free!" Jar Jar was jumping about in his seat, ecstatic

over their good fortune.

But a quick glance back revealed that they were lucky for a different

reason than they thought. The opee sea killer was caught in the jaws of a

creature so huge that it dwarfed even the beast it was eating. A long,

eel-like hunter with clawed forelegs, rear fins, and a wicked pair of jaws

was crunching the sea killer into tiny bits and swallowing it down eagerly.

"Sando aqua monster, oh, oh!" Jar Jar Binks moaned, burying his face in

his hands.

Obi-Wan increased power, trying to put more distance between themselves

and this newest threat. The sando aqua monster disappeared behind them, but

the lights of the bongo were flickering ominously. The little craft dived

deeper, penetrating the planet's core. Suddenly something exploded inside a

control panel behind them, showering the cabin with sparks. Seams split

overhead, and water began leaking through the bongo's outer skin.

"Master," Obi-Wan said as the power-drive whine took a sudden dive,

"we're losing power."

Qui-Gon was working over the troubled control panel, head lowered.

"Stay calm. We're not in trouble yet."

"Not yet!" Jar Jar had lost all pretense of calm and was flailing about

in his seat. "Monstairs out dere! Leakin in here. We sinkin with no power!

Yous nuts! When yous think we in trubble?"

With that, the lights inside the bongo went completely black. Jar Jar

Binks had his answer.

In the conference room of the lead battleship of the Trade Federation

fleet, a hologram of Darth Sidious towered over Nute Gunray and Rune Haako.

The Neimoidian viceroy and his lieutenant stood motionless before it,

reddish orange eyes fixed and staring, reptilian faces betraying every bit

of the fear that held them paralyzed.

The black-cloaked figure of Darth Sidious regarded them!

silently.

There was no hint of expression on his shadowed countenance, which was

mostly hidden within the folds of the cloak's hood. But the rigid posture of

the Sith Lord's body spoke volumes.

"You disappoint me, Viceroy," he hissed at Nute Gunray.

"My lord, I am certain that all-" The subject of his anger tried

futilely to explain.

"Worse, you defy me!"

The Neimoidian's face underwent a terrifying transformation. "No, my

lord! Never! These Jedi are...resourceful, that's all. Not easily

destroyed-"

"Alive, then, Viceroy?"

"No, no, I'm sure they're dead. They must be. We-we just haven't been

able to confirm it...yet."

Darth Sidious ignored him. "If they are alive, they will show

themselves. When they do, Viceroy, I want to know immediately. I will deal

with them myself. "

Nute Gunray looked as if he might collapse under the weight of the Sith

Lord's penetrating stare. "Yes, my lord," he managed as the hologram

vanished.

Inside the troubled bongo, Obi-Wan fought to keep control as the little

craft began to drift aimlessly.

Abruptly the whine of the power drive came alive and the aft drive fins

began to turn. "Power's back," Obi-Wan breathed gratefully.

The lights on the control panels blinked on, flickered, and steadied.

The exterior directional lights followed, momentarily blinding them as they

reflected off rock walls and jagged outcroppings. Then Jar Jar screamed.

A

new monster was sitting right in front of them, all spines and scales and

teeth, crooked clawed forelegs raised defensively.

"Colo claw fish!" the Gungan shrieked. "Yous Jedi do something!

Where

da Force now, you think?"

"Relax," Qui-Gon Jinn said softly, placing his hand on Jar Jar's

twitching shoulder. The Gungan jerked and promptly fainted.

"You overdid it," Obi-Wan observed, wheeling the bongo about and

jetting away through the darkness. Even without looking, he knew the colo

claw fish was in pursuit. They were inside a tunnel that probably served as

the creature's lair. They were lucky to have caught it by surprise.

He

angled the bongo toward the cave entrance and a series of overhangs that

might provide them with a little protection on their way out.

Something

slammed into the bongo, held it fast momentarily, then released it. Obi- Wan

increased power to the drive fins.

"Come on, come on!" he breathed softly.

They shot out of the cave directly into the jaws of the waiting sando

aqua monster. The creature jerked back at the unexpected invasion, giving

Obi-Wan just an instant to bank their craft hard to the right. The jaws of

the aqua monster were still open as they sped between teeth the size of

buildings.

Jar Jar's eyes flickered open. He caught sight of the teeth and

promptly fainted again.

Out through a gap in the sando aqua monster's fangs they sped, the

bongo shaking with the thrust of its power drive. But the colo claw fish,

still in pursuit, did not veer aside quickly enough and flew right into the

larger hunter's maw. The jaws came down, engulfing it.

Obi-Wan increased power to the drive fins as bits of the colo claw fish

reemerged briefly through the sando aqua monster's grinding teeth, only to

be sucked quickly from sight again.

"Let's hope that's all the snack he requires," the Jedi observed with a

quick glance back.

Apparently it was, because it did not come after them. It took a while

to revive Jar Jar and a good deal longer to complete their voyage through

the core, but with the Gungan's somewhat questionable help, they finally

emerged from the darkness of the deeper waters toward a blaze of sunlight.

The bongo popped to the surface of an azure body of water, green hills and

trees rising about them, clouds and blue sky overhead. Obi-Wan steered the

little craft to the nearest shore, shut down the engines, and released the

nose hatch. Qui-Gon rose and looked around.

"We safe now," Jar Jar observed with a grateful sigh, leaning back in

his seat. "Tis okeday, hey?"

"That remains to be seen," the Jedi Master said. "Let's be off."

He climbed from the bongo onto the shore and started away. Obi-Wan

glanced meaningfully at Jar Jar and followed.

The Gungan stared doubtfully after the departing Jedi. "Me comen, me

comen," he muttered, and hurried after.

6

It was a little more than a week after the Podrace and the encounter

with the old spacer that Watto summoned Anakin into the musty confines of

the junk shop and told him he was to take a speeder out to the Dune Sea to

do some trading with the Jawas. The Jawas, scavengers, were offering a

number of droids for sale or trade, some of them mechanics, and while Watto

wasn't about to part with usable currency, he didn't want to pass up a

bargain if it could be had for a favorable barter. Anakin had traded on

Watto's behalf before, and the Toydarian knew that the boy was good at this,

too.

The blue face hovered close to Anakin's own, tiny wings beating madly.

"Bring me what I need, boy! And don't mess up!"

Anakin was entrusted with a variety of difficult-to-obtain engine and

guidance systems parts that the Jawas would covet and Watto could afford to

give up for the right set of droids. The boy was to take the speeder out

into the Dune Sea for a midday meeting with the Jawas, make his trade, and

be back by sunset. No detours and no fooling around. Watto hadn't forgiven

him yet for losing the Podrace and smashing his best racer, and he was

letting the boy know it.

"March the droids back if you can't barter for a float sled."

Watto

flitted about, issuing orders, a blue blur. "If they can't walk this far,

they aren't of any use to me. Peedunkel! Make sure you don't get taken!

My

reputation is at stake!"

Anakin listened attentively and nodded at all the right places, the way

he had learned to do over the years. It was only a little past midmorning

and there was plenty of time to do what was needed. He had traded with the

Jawas many times, and he knew how to make certain they did not get the best

of him.

There was a great deal Watto didn't know about Anakin Skywalker, the

boy thought to himself as he went out the door to claim his speeder and

begin his journey. One of the tricks to being a successful slave was to know

things your master didn't know and to take advantage of that knowledge when

it would do you some good. Anakin had a gift for Podracing and a gift for

taking things apart and putting them back together and making them work

better than they had before. But it was his strange ability to sense things,

to gain insights through changes in temperament, reactions, and words, that

served him best. He could tune in to other creatures, bond with them so

closely he could sense what they were thinking and what they would do almost

before they did. It had served him well in dealing with the Jawas, among

others, and it gave him a distinct edge in bartering on Watto's behalf.

Anakin had a couple of important secrets he kept from Watto as well.

The first was the protocol droid he was reconstructing in his bedroom work

area. It was far enough along that even though it was missing its skin and

an eye, it could stand and move around, and its intelligence and

communications processors were up and running. Good enough to do the job he

required of it, he concluded, which was to accompany him on his bartering

mission. The droid could listen in on the Jawas in their own peculiar

language, which Anakin did not understand or speak particularly well.

By

doing so, it could let Anakin know if they were trying to slip anything by

him. Watto didn't know how far he had gotten with the droid, and there

wasn't much danger Watto could find out while they were out in the Dune Sea.

The second and more important secret concerned the Podracer the boy was

building. He had been working on it for almost two years, salvaging bits and

pieces as he went, assembling it under cover of an old tarp in an area of

the common refuse dump in back of the slave housing. His mother had indulged

him, mindful of his interest in taking things apart and putting them back

together. She didn't see the harm in allowing him to have this project to

work on in his spare time, and Watto knew nothing of the Pod.

That was an inspired bit of subterfuge on Anakin's part. He knew, just

as with the droid, that if it appeared to have any value 1 at all, Watto

would claim it. So he deliberately kept it looking as if it were a complete

piece of junk, disguising its worth in a variety of clever ways. To all

intents and purposes, it would never run. It was just another childish

project. It was just a little boy's dream.

But for Anakin Skywalker, it was the first step in his life plan.

He

would build the fastest Podracer ever, and he would win every race in which

it was entered. He would build a starfighter next, and he would pilot it off

Tatooine to other worlds. He would take his mother with him, and they would

find a new home. He would become the greatest pilot ever, flying all the

ships of the mainline, and his mother would be so proud of him.

And one day, when he had done all this, they would be slaves no longer.

They would be free.

He thought about this often, not because his mother encouraged him in

any way or because he was given any reason to think it might happen, but

simply because he believed, deep down inside where it mattered, that it

must.

He thought about it now as he guided his speeder through the streets of

Mos Espa, the protocol droid sitting in the rear passenger compartment,

skeletal - like without its skin and motionless because he had deactivated

it for the ride out. He thought about all the things he would do and places

he would go, the adventures he would have and the successes he would enjoy,

and the dreams he would see come true. He drove the speeder out from the

city under Tatooine's suns, the heat rising off the desert sands in a

shimmering wave, the light reflecting off the metal surface of the speeder

like white fire.

He proceeded east for about two standard hours until he reached the

edge of the Dune Sea. The meeting with the Jawas was already in place,

arranged by Watto the day before by transmitter. The Jawas would be waiting

by Mochot Steep, a singular rock formation about halfway across the sea.

Goggles, gloves, and helmet firmly in place, the boy cranked up the power on

the speeder and hastened ahead through the midday heat.

He found the Jawas waiting for him, their monstrous sandcrawler parked

in the shadow of the Steep, the droids they wished to trade lined up at the

end of the crawler's ramp. Anakin parked his speeder close to where the

little robed figures waited, yellow eyes gleaming watchfully in the shadows

of their hoods, and climbed out. He activated the protocol droid and ordered

him to follow. With the droid trailing obediently, he walked slowly down the

line of mechanicals, making a show of carefully studying each.

When he was finished, he drew his droid aside. "Which ones are best,

See - Threepio?" he asked. He'd given it a number the night before, choosing

three because the droid made the third member of his little family after his

mother and himself.

"Oh, well, Master Anakin, I'm flattered that you would ask, but I would

never presume to infringe on your expertise, my own being so meager,

although I do have knowledge of some fifty-one hundred different varieties

of droids and over five thousand different internal processors and ten times

that many chips and..."

"Just tell me which ones are best!" Anakin hissed under his breath.

He

had forgotten that C-3PO was first and foremost a protocol droid and, while

possessed of extensive knowledge, tended to defer to the humans he served.

"Which ones, Threepio?" he repeated. "Left to right. Number them off to me."

C-3PO did so. "Do you wish me to enumerate their capabilities and

design specialties, Master Anakin?" he asked solicitously, cocking his head.

Anakin silenced him with a wave of his hand as the head Jawa

approached. They bartered back and forth for a time, Anakin getting a sense

of how far the Jawas could be pushed, how much subterfuge was taking place

with regard to their droids, and how badly they wanted the goods he was

offering in exchange. He was able to determine that several of the best

droids were still inside the crawler, a fact that C-3PO picked up from an

unguarded comment made by a Jawa off to one side. The head Jawa squeaked at

him furiously, of course, but the damage was done.

Three more droids were brought out, and again Anakin took a few moments

to inspect them, C-3PO at his side. They were good models, and the Jawas

were not particularly eager to part with them for anything less than a

combination of currency and goods. Anakin and the head Jawa, who were of

about the same height and weight, stood nose to nose arguing the matter

for

a long time.

When the bartering was completed, Anakin had traded a little more than

half of what he had brought as barter for two mechanic droids in excellent

condition, three more multipurpose droids that were serviceable, and a

damaged hyperdrive converter that he could put back into service in no time.

He could have traded for another two or three droids, but the quality of

those that remained wasn't sufficiently high to part with any more of

Watto's goods, and Watto would be quick to see that.

There was no float sled to be had, so Anakin lined up the newly

purchased droids behind the speeder, placed C-3PO in the rear passenger

compartment to keep an eye on them, and set off for Mos Espa. It was just

after midday. The little procession was a curious sight, the speeder

leading, hovering just off the sand, thrusters on dead slow, the droids

trailing behind, jointed limbs working steadily to keep pace.

"That was an excellent trade, Master Anakin," C-3PO advised cheerfully,

keeping his one good eye on their purchases. "You are to be congratulated! I

think those Jawas learned a hard lesson today! You really did show them a

thing or two about hard bargaining! Why, that pit droid alone is worth much

more than. .."

The droid rattled on incessantly, but Anakin let him alone, ignoring

most of what he said, content to let his mind wander for a bit now that the

hard part was done. Even with the droids slowing them down, they should

reach the edge of the Dune Sea before midafternoon and Mos Espa before dark.

He would have time to sneak C-3PO back into his bedroom and deliver the

purchased droids and the balance of the trade goods to Watto. Maybe that

would get him back in the Toydarian's good graces. Certainly Watto would be

pleased with the converter. They were hard to come by out here, and if it

could be made to work which Anakin was certain it could-it would be worth

more than all the rest of the purchases combined.

They crossed the central flats and climbed the slow rise to Xelric

Draw, a shallow, widemouthed canyon that split the Mospic High Range just

inside the lip of the Dune Sea. The speeder eased inside the canyon, droids

strung out in a gleaming mechanical line behind, passing out of sunlight

into shadow. The temperature dropped a few degrees, and the silence changed

pitch in the lee of the cliffs. Anakin glanced about warily, knowing the

dangers of the desert as well as any who were from Mos Espa, although he was

inclined to think from time to time that it was safer out here than in the

city.

"...a four-to-one ratio of Rodians to Hutts when the settlement began

to take on the look and feel of a trading center, although even then it was

clear the Hutts were the dominant species, and the Rodians might just as

well have stayed home rather than chance a long and somewhat purposeless

flight..."

C-3PO rambled on, changing subjects without urging, asking nothing in

return for his nonstop narrative but to be allowed to continue.

Anakin

wondered if he was suffering some sort of sensory vocal deprivation from

being deactivated for so long. These protocol droids were known to be

temperamental.

His gaze shifted suddenly to the right, to something that seemed

strange and out of place. At first it was just a shape and coloring amid the

desert sand and rock, almost lost in the shadows. But as he stared harder,

it took on fresh meaning. He banked the speeder sharply, bringing the line

of droids around with him.

"Master Anakin, whatever are you doing?" C-3PO protested peevishly.

His

one eye fixed on Anakin. "Mos Espa is down the canyon draw, not through the

side of the-Oh, my! Is that what I think it is? Master, there is every

reason to turn right around-"

"I know." Anakin cut the droid short. "I just want a look."

C-3PO's arms fluttered anxiously. "I must protest, Master Anakin.

This

is most unwise. If I am correct, and I must tell you that I have calculated

that degree of probability at ninety-nine point seven, then we are headed

directly toward..."

But Anakin didn't need to be told what lay ahead, having already

determined exactly what it was. A Tusken Raider lay crumpled on the ground,

half-buried by a pile of rocks close against the cliff face. The look and

garb of the Sand People were unmistakable, even at this distance.

Loose,

tan-colored clothing, heavy leather gloves and boots, bandolier and belt,

cloth-wrapped head with goggles and breath mask, and a long, dual-

handled

blaster rifle lying a meter away from an outstretched arm. A fresh scar

slicing down from the cliff face bore evidence of a slide. The Raider had

probably been hiding above when the rock gave way beneath his feet and

buried him in the fall.

Anakin stopped the speeder and climbed down.

"Master Anakin, I don't think this is a good idea at all!" C-3PO

declared in a sharp tone of admonishment.

"I just want a look, that's all," the boy repeated.

He was wary and a little scared of doing this, but he had never seen a

Tusken Raider up close, although he had heard stories about them all his

life. The Tuskens were a reclusive, fierce, nomadic people who claimed the

desert as their own and lived off those foolish enough to venture into their

territory unprepared. On foot or astride the wild banthas they had claimed

from the wastelands, they traveled where they chose, pillaging outlying

homes and way stations, waylaying caravans, stealing goods and equipment,

and terrorizing everyone in general. They had even gone after the Hutts on

occasion. The residents of Mos Espa, themselves a less than respectable

citizenry, hated the Sand People with a passion.

Anakin had not yet made up his mind about them. The stories were

chilling, but he knew enough of life to know there were two sides to every

story and mostly only one being told. He was intrigued by the wild, free

nature of the Tuskens, of a life without irresponsibility or boundaries, of

a community in which everyone was considered equal.

He left the speeder and walked toward the fallen Raider.

Threepio

continued to admonish him, to warn him he was making a mistake. In truth, he

wasn't all that sure the droid was wrong. But his trepidation was overcome

by his curiosity. What could it hurt to have just the briefest of looks?

His

boyish nature surfaced and took control. He would be able to tell his

friends he had seen one of the Sand People close up. He would be able to

tell them what one really looked like.

The Tusken Raider lay sprawled facedown, arms akimbo, head turned to

one side. Rocks and debris buried most of the lower part of his body.

One

leg lay pinned beneath a massive boulder. Anakin edged closer to where the

blaster rifle lay, then reached down and picked it up. It was heavy and

unwieldy. A man would have to be strong and skilled to handle one, he

thought. He noted the strange carvings on the stock-tribal markings perhaps.

He had heard the Tuskens were a tribal people. Suddenly the fallen Raider

stirred, drawing back one arm, bracing himself, and lifting his wrapped

head. Opaque goggles stared directly at Anakin. The boy backed away

automatically. But the Tusken just stared at him for a moment, taking in who

he was and what he was doing, then laid his head down again.

Anakin Skywalker waited, wondering what he should do. He knew what

Watto would say. He knew what almost everyone would say. Get out of there!

Now! He put the blaster rifle down again. This was no business of his.

He

took a step back, then another.

The Tusken Raider lifted his head once more and stared at him.

Anakin

stared back. He could sense the pain in the other's gaze. He could feel his

desperation, trapped and helpless beneath that boulder, stripped of his

weapon and his freedom both.

Anakin's brow furrowed. Would his mother tell him to get out of there,

too? What would she say, if she were there?

"Threepio," he called back to the droid. "Bring everybody over here."

Protesting vehemently with every step, C-3PO gathered up the newly

purchased droids and herded them to where the boy stood staring at the

fallen Tusken. Anakin put the droids to work clearing away the smaller rocks

and stones, then rigged a lever and used the speeder's weight to tilt the

rock just enough that they could pull the pinned man free. The Tusken was

awake briefly, but then lapsed back into unconsciousness. Anakin had the

droids check for other weapons and kept the blaster rifle safely out of

reach.

While the Tusken Raider was unconscious, the droids laid him on his

back so he could be checked for injuries. The leg pinned by the boulder was

smashed, the bones broken in several places. Anakin could see the damage

through the torn cloth. But he wasn't familiar with Tusken physiology, and

he didn't know exactly what to do to repair the damage. So he applied a

quick seal splint from the medical kit in the speeder to freeze the leg in

place and left it alone.

He sat down then and thought about what he should do next. The light

was beginning to fail. He had spent too much time freeing the Tusken to

reach Mos Espa before nightfall. He could make the edge of the Dune Sea by

dark, but only by leaving the Tusken behind, untended and alone.

Anakin

frowned. Given the things that roamed the desert when it got dark, he might

as well bury the man and have done with it.

So he had the droids pull a small glow unit out of the landspeeder.

When twilight descended, he powered up the glow unit and attached an

extender fuel pack to assure it would burn all night. He broke out an old

dried food pack and munched absently as he stared at the sleeping Tusken.

His mother would be worried. Watto would be mad. But they knew him to be

capable and reliable, and they would wait until daybreak to do anything

about his absence. By then, he hoped, he would be well on his way home.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" he asked C-3PO.

He had placed the speeder and the other droids under the lee of a cliff

face behind the glow unit, safely tucked from view, but had kept C-3PO

with

him for company. Boy and droid sat huddled close together on one side of the

glow unit while the Tusken Raider continued to sleep on the other.

"I am afraid I lack the necessary medical training and information to

make that determination, Master Anakin," C-3PO advised, cocking his head.

"I

certainly think you have done everything you possibly could."

The boy nodded thoughtfully.

"Master Anakin, we really shouldn't be out here at night," the droid

observed after a moment. "This country is quite dangerous. "

"But we couldn't leave him, could we?"

"Oh, well, that's a very difficult determination to make." C-3PO

pondered the matter.

"We couldn't take him with us either."

"Certainly not!"

The boy sat in silence for a time, watching the Tusken sleep.

He

watched him for so long, in fact, that it came as something of a surprise

when the Tusken finally stirred awake. It happened all at once, and it

caught the boy off guard. The Tusken Raider shifted his weight with a

lurching movement, exhaled sharply, propped himself up on one arm, looked at

himself, then looked at the boy. The boy made no move or sound. The Tusken

regarded him intently for a long minute, then slowly eased into a sitting

position, his wounded leg stretched out in front of him.

"Uh, hello," Anakin said, trying out a smile.

The Tusken Raider made no response.

"Are you thirsty?" the boy asked.

No response.

"I don't think he likes us very much," C-3PO observed.

Anakin tried a dozen different approaches at conversation, but the

Tusken Raider ignored them all. His gaze shifted only once, to where his

blaster rifle lay propped against the rocks behind the boy.

"Say something to him in Tusken," he ordered C-3PO finally.

The droid did. He spoke at length to the Tusken in his own language,

but the man refused to respond. He just kept staring at the boy.

Finally,

after C-3PO had gone on for some time, the Tusken glanced at him and barked

a single word in response.

"Gracious!" the droid exclaimed.

"What did he say?" the boy asked, excited.

"Why he-he told me to shut up!"

That was pretty much the end of any attempt at conversation. The boy

and the Tusken sat facing each other in silence, their faces caught by the

glow of the fire, the desert's darkness all around. Anakin found himself

wondering what he would do if the Tusken tried to attack him. It was

unlikely, but the man was large and fierce and strong, and if he reached the

boy, he could easily overpower him. He could take back his blaster rifle and

do with the boy as he chose.

But somehow Anakin didn't sense that to be the Tusken's intent.

The

Tusken made no effort to move and gave no indication he had any intention of

trying to do so. He just sat there, wrapped in his desert garb, faceless

beneath his coverings, locked away with his own thoughts.

Finally he spoke again. The boy looked quickly at C-3PO. "He wants to

know what you are going to do with him, Master Anakin," the droid

translated.

Anakin looked back at the Tusken, confused. "Tell him I'm not going to

do anything with him," he said. "I'm just trying to help him get well."

C-3PO spoke the words in Tusken. The man listened. He made no response.

He did not say anything more.

Anakin realized suddenly that the Tusken was afraid. He could sense it

in the way the other spoke, in the way he sat waiting. He was crippled and

weaponless. He was at Anakin's mercy. The boy understood the Tusken's fear,

but it surprised him anyway. It seemed out of character. The Sand People

were supposed to be fearless. Besides, he wasn't afraid of the Tusken.

Maybe

he should have been, but he wasn't.

Anakin Skywalker wasn't afraid of anything.

Was he?

Staring into the opaque lenses of the goggles that hid the Tusken

Raider's eyes, he contemplated the matter. Most times he thought there was

nothing that could frighten him. Most times he thought he was brave enough

that he would never be afraid. But in that most secret part of himself where

he hid the things he would reveal to no one, he knew he was cheating on

the

truth. He might not ever be afraid for himself, but he was sometimes very

afraid for his mother.

What if something were to happen to her? What if something awful were

to happen to her, something he could do nothing to prevent?

He felt a shiver go down his spine.

What if he were to lose her?

How brave would he be then, if the person he was closest to in the

whole, endless universe was suddenly taken away from him? It would never

happen, of course. It couldn't possibly happen.

But what if it did?

He stared at the Tusken Raider, and in the deep silence of the night he

felt his confidence tremble like a leaf caught in the wind.

He fell asleep finally, and he dreamed of strange things. The dreams

shifted and changed without warning and took on different story lines and

meanings as they did so. He was several things in the course of his dreams.

Once he was a Jedi Knight, fighting against things so dark and insubstantial

he could not identify them. Once he was a pilot of a star cruiser, taking

the ship into hyperspace, spanning whole star systems on his voyage. Once he

was a great and feared commander of an army, and he came back to Tatooine

with ships and troops at his command to free the planet's slaves. His mother

was waiting for him, smiling, arms outstretched. But when he tried to

embrace her, she vanished.

There were Sand People in his dreams, too. They appeared near the end,

a handful of them, standing before him with their blaster rifles and long

gaffi sticks lifted and held ready. They regarded him in silence, as if

wondering what they should do with him.

He awoke then, jarred from his sleep by an unmistakable sense of

danger. He jerked upright and stared about in confusion and fear. The glow

unit had burned down to nothing. In the faint, silvery brightening of

predawn, he found himself confronted by the dark, faceless shapes of the

Sand People of his dreams.

Anakin swallowed hard. Motionless figures against the horizon's dim

glow, the Tusken Raiders encircled him completely. The boy thought to break

and run, but realized at once how foolish that would be. He was helpless.

All he could do was wait and set.. what they intended.

A guttural muttering rose from their midst, and heads turned ~ to look.

Through a gap in the ranks, Anakin could just make out a figure being lifted

and carried away. It was the Raider he had; rescued, speaking to his people.

The other Raiders hesitated, then slowly backed away.

I in seconds, they were gone.

Sunlight began to crest the dark bulk of the Mospic, and C-3PO

was

speaking to him in a rush of words that tumbled over one another, the

skeletal metal arms jerking this way and that.

"Master Anakin, they've gone! Oh, we're lucky to be alive!

Thank

goodness they didn't hurt you!"

Anakin climbed to his feet. There were Tusken Raider footprints

everywhere. He glanced about quickly. The speeder and the droids obtained

from the Jawas sat undisturbed beneath the overhang. The Tusken blaster

rifle was gone.

"Master Anakin, what should we do?" C-3PO wailed in dismay.

Anakin looked around at the empty canyon floor, at the high ragged

walls of the cliff face, and at the brightening sky where the stars were

fading away. He listened to the deep silence and felt impossibly alone and

vulnerable.

"We should go home," he whispered, and moved swiftly to make it happen.

7

Nute Gunray stood in silence at the center of the palace throne room in

the Naboo capital city of Theed and listened patiently as Governor Sio

Bibble protested the Trade Federation presence. Rune Haako stood at his

side. Both wore their Federation robes of office and inscrutable

expressions. Two dozen battle droids held the Naboo occupants of the room at

gunpoint. The city had fallen shortly after sunrise. There had been little

resistance; the Naboo were a peaceful people. The Trade Federation invasion

had come as a surprise, and the droid army was inside the gates of the city

before any substantial defense could be mounted. What few weapons there were

had been confiscated and the Naboo removed to detention camps. Battle droids

were combing the city even now to put an end to any lingering resistance.

Gunray resisted a smile. Apparently the Queen had believed right up to

the end that negotiations would prevail and the Senate would provide the

people of Naboo with protection.

"It is bad enough, Viceroy, that you dare to disrupt transmissions

between the Queen and Senator Palpatine while he is attempting to argue our

cause before the Republic Senate, bad enough that you pretend that this

blockade is a lawful action, but landing an entire army on our planet and

occupying our cities is too outrageous for words."

Sio Bibble was a tall, balding man with a sharply pointed beard and an

even sharper tongue. He held the floor just at the moment, but Gunray was

getting tired of listening to him. He glanced at the other captives.

Captain

Panaka, the Queen's head of security, and four of the Queen's personal

guards stood to one side, stripped of their weapons and helpless. Panaka was

stone-faced and hard - eyed as he watched the Neimoidians. He was a big,

powerfully built man with a dark, smooth face and quick eyes. The Neimoidian

did not like the way those eyes were fixed on him.

The Queen sat upon her throne, surrounded by her handmaidens. She was

serene and aloof, detached from everything, as if what was taking place had

no effect on her, could not touch her in any way. She wore black, her

white-painted face in sharp contrast to the black feathered headdress that

wrapped and framed it. A gold chain lay across her regal brow and the red

beauty mark split her lower lip. She was considered beautiful, Gunray had

been told, but he had no sense of human beauty and by Neimoidian standards

she was simply colorless and small-featured.

What interested him was her youth. She was barely out of girlhood,

certainly not a full-grown woman, and yet the people of Naboo had chosen her

as their Queen. This wasn't one of those monarchies where blood determined

right of rule and dynasties prevailed. The Naboo chose the wisest among them

as their ruler by popular acclaim, and Queen Amidala governed at the

sufferance of her people. Why they would choose someone so young and naive

was a mystery to him. From his point of view it certainly hadn't served them

well in this instance.

Governor Sio Bibble's voice echoed through the cavernous chamber,

rising to the high, vaulted ceiling, bouncing off the smooth, sunlit walls.

Theed was an opulent, prosperous city and the throne room reflected its

history of success.

"Viceroy, I ask you point-blank." Sio Bibble was concluding his

oration. "How do you intend to explain this invasion to the Senate?"

The Neimoidian's flat, reptilian countenance managed a small flicker of

humor. "The Naboo and the Trade Federation will forge a treaty that will

legitimize our occupation of Theed. I have been assured that such a treaty,

once produced, will be quickly ratified by the Senate."

"A treaty?" the governor exclaimed in astonishment. "In the face of

this completely unlawful action?"

Amidala rose from her throne and stepped forward, surrounded by her

cloaked and hooded handmaidens. Her eyes were sharp with anger. "I will not

cooperate."

Nute Gunray exchanged a quick glance with Rune Haako. "Now, now, Your

Highness," he purred. "Don't be too hasty with your pronouncements. You are

not going to like what we have in store for your people. In time, their

suffering will persuade you to see our point of view."

He turned away. "Enough talk." He beckoned. "Commander?" Battle droid

OOM-9 stepped forward, narrow metal snout lowering slightly in response.

"Process them," the viceroy ordered.

OOM-9 signaled for one of his sergeants to take over, metallic voice

directing that the prisoners be taken to Camp Four. The battle droids herded

the Queen, her handmaidens, Governor Bibble, Captain Panaka, and the Naboo

guards from the room.

Nute Gunray's slit reddish orange eyes followed them out, then shifted

back to Haako and the room. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction take hold.

Everything was going exactly as it should.

The sergeant and a dozen battle droids moved the prisoners along the

polished stone halls of the Theed palace and outside to where a series of

terraced steps led downward through statuary and buttress work to a broad

plaza. The plaza was filled with Federation tanks and battle droids and was

empty of Naboo citizens. The tanks were squat, shovel-nosed vehicles with

their main cannon mounted on a turret above and behind the cockpit and

smaller blasters set low and to either side. They had the look of foraging

beetles as they edged about the plaza's perimeter.

Beyond, the buildings of Theed stretched away toward the horizon, a

vast sprawl of high stone walls, gilded domes, peaked towers, and sculpted

archways. Sunlight bathed the gleaming edifices, their architecture in

counterpoint to the lush greenness of the planet. The rush of waterfalls and

bubble of fountains formed a soft, distant backdrop to the strange silence

created by the absence of the populace.

The prisoners were taken across the plaza past the Trade Federation

machines of war. No one spoke. Even Governor Bibble had gone silent, his

gray - bearded head lowered in dark contemplation. They departed the plaza

and turned down a broad avenue that led to the outskirts of the city and the

newly constructed Trade Federation detention camps. STAPs hummed overhead,

shadows flitting off the walls of the buildings, metal shells gleaming as

they darted away.

The droids had just turned their prisoners down a quiet byway when

their sergeant, who was leading the procession, brought them to an abrupt

halt.

Two men stood directly in their way, both wearing loose robes over

belted tunics, the taller with his hair worn long, the shorter with his cut

to a thin braided pigtail. Their arms hung loosely at their sides, but they

did not have the look of men who were unprepared.

For a moment, each group stared at the other in silence. Then the

narrow face of a Gungan peeked out from behind the two robed figures, eyes

wide and frightened.

Qui-Gon Jinn stepped forward. "Are you Queen Amidala of the Naboo?"

he

asked the young woman in the feathered headdress.

The Queen hesitated. "Who are you?"

"Ambassadors from the supreme chancellor." The Jedi Master inclined his

head slightly. "We seek an audience with you, Your Highness."

The droid sergeant suddenly seemed to remember where he was and what he

was doing. He gestured to his soldiers. "Clear them away!"

Four of the battle droids moved to obey. They were just shifting their

weapons into firing position when the Jedi activated their lightsabers and

cut them apart. As the shattered droids collapsed, the Jedi moved quickly to

dispatch the others. Laser bolts were blocked, weapons were knocked aside,

and the remaining droids were reduced to scrap metal.

The sergeant turned to flee, but Qui-Gon brought up his hand, holding

the droid fast with the power of the Force. In seconds, the sergeant lay in

a ruined heap with his command.

Quickly, the Naboo soldiers moved to recover the fallen weapons.

The

Jedi Knights flicked off their lightsabers and motioned everyone out of the

open street and into the shelter of an alley between two buildings. Jar Jar

Binks followed, muttering in wonder at the cold efficiency with which the

Jedi had dispatched their enemies.

Qui-Gon faced the Queen. "Your Highness, I am Qui-Gon Jinn and my

companion is Obi-Wan Kenobi. We are Jedi Knights as well as ambassadors for

the supreme chancellor."

"Your negotiations seem to have failed, Ambassador," Sio Bibble

observed with a snort.

"The negotiations never took place." Qui-Gon kept his eyes directed

toward the Queen. Her painted face showed nothing. "Your Highness,"

he

continued, "we must make contact with the Republic."

"We can't," Captain Panaka volunteered, stepping forward.

"They've

knocked out all our communications."

An alarm was being given from somewhere close, and there was the sound

of running. Qui-Gon glanced toward the street where the battle droids lay.

"Do you have transports?"

The Naboo captain nodded, quick to see what the Jedi intended. "In the

main hangar. This way."

He led the little group to the end of the alleyway, where they crossed

to other passageways and backstreets, encountering no one. They moved

quickly and silently through the growing sound of alarms and the wicked buzz

of STAPs. To their credit, the Naboo did not resist Qui-Gon's leadership nor

question his appearance. With Panaka and his men newly armed, the Naboo

Queen and her companions had a sense of being in control of their own

destiny once more and seemed more than ready to take a chance on their

rescuers.

It did not take them long to reach their destination. A series of

connected buildings dominated one end of a broad causeway, each one domed

and cavernous, the central structures warded by arched entrances and low,

flat-walled outbuildings. Battle droids were stationed everywhere, weapons

held at the ready, but Captain Panaka was able to find an unguarded approach

down a narrow corridor between adjoining buildings.

At a side door to the main hangar, Panaka brought the group to a halt.

After a quick glance over his shoulder for droids, he unlocked and nudged

open the hangar door. With Qui-Gon Jinn pressed close, he peered inside.

A

handful of Naboo ships were grouped at the center of the hangar, sleek

gleaming transports, their noses pointed toward a wide opening in the far

wall. Battle droids guarded each, positioned across the entire floor of the

hangar to cut off any unseen approach.

Panaka pointed to a long, low ship on the far side of the hangar with

swept-back wings and powerful Headon-5 engines. "The Queen's personal

transport, " he whispered to the Jedi Master.

Qui-Gon nodded. A J-type 327 Nubian. In the distance, the alarms

continued to sound their steady wail. "That one will do," he said.

Panaka scanned the hangar interior. "The battle droids. There are too

many of them."

The Jedi eased back from the door. "That won't be a problem." He faced

the Queen. "Your Highness. Under the circumstances, I suggest you come to

Coruscant with us."

The young woman shook her head, the feathers on her headdress rustling

softly. Her white-painted face was calm and her gaze steady. "Thank you,

Ambassador, but my place is here with my people."

"I don't think so," Qui-Gon responded, locking eyes. "The Trade

Federation has other plans. They will kill you if you stay."

Sio Bibble pushed to the Queen's side. "They wouldn't dare!"

"They need her to sign a treaty to make this invasion of theirs legal!"

Captain Panaka pointed out. "They can't afford to kill her!"

The Queen looked from face to face, the barest flicker of uncertainty

showing in her eyes.

"The situation here is not what it seems," Qui-Gon pressed. "There is

something else going on, Your Highness. There is no logic to the

Federation's actions. My instincts tell me they will destroy you."

A shadow of real alarm crossed Sio Bibble's face as the Jedi Master

finished. His strong features melted slightly. "Your Highness," he said

slowly. "Perhaps you should reconsider. Our only hope is for the Senate to

take our side in this matter. Senator Palpatine will need your help."

Captain Panaka was having none of it. "Getting past their blockade is

impossible, Your Highness-even if we were to get off the planet! An escape

attempt is too dangerous-" "Your Highness, I will stay here and do what I

can," Sio Bibble interrupted, shaking his head at Panaka. "They will have to

retain the Council of Governors in order to maintain some semblance of

order. But you must leave-"

Queen Amidala brought up her hand sharply to silence the debate.

Turning from her governor and head of security and the Jedi as well, she

looked suddenly to her handmaidens, who were pressed close about her.

"Either choice presents great risk to all of us...," she said softly,

looking from face to face.

Qui-Gon watched the exchange, puzzled. What was the Queen seeking?

The handmaidens glanced at one another, faces barely visible within the

confines of red and gold hooded robes. All were silent.

Finally, one spoke. "We are brave, Your Highness," Padme said firmly.

Alarms continued to sound. "If you are to leave, Your Highness, it must

be now," Qui-Gon urged.

Queen Amidala straightened and nodded. "So be it. I will plead our case

before the Senate." She glanced at Sio Bibble. "Be careful, Governor."

She took the governor's hand briefly, then beckoned to three of her

handmaidens. Those not chosen began to cry softly. Amidala embraced

them and

whispered words of encouragement. Captain Panaka selected two of the four

guards to stay behind with the handmaidens and Sio Bibble.

The Jedi Knights moved through the side door and into the hangar,

leading the way for Jar Jar and the Naboo. "Stay close," Qui-Gon admonished

softly over his shoulder.

Captain Panaka moved next to him, dark face intense. "We need a

pilot/for the vessel." He pointed to where a group of Naboo were being held

captive in a corner of the hangar by a squad of battle droids. The insignia

on their uniforms indicated a mix of guards, mechanics, and pilots.

"There."

"I'll take care of it," Obi-Wan declared, and veered toward the Naboo

captives.

Qui-Gon and the rest continued on, striding boldly across the hangar

floor, moving directly toward the Queen's vessel, ignoring the battle droids

who moved to intercept them. Qui-Gon took note of the fact that the boarding

ramp to the transport was lowered. More battle droids were closing on them,

curious without yet being alarmed.

"Don't stop for anything," he said to the Queen, and he reached beneath

his cloak for the lightsaber.

They were barely twenty meters from the Queen's transport when the

nearest of the battle droids challenged them. "Where are you going?"

it

asked in its blank, metallic voice.

"Get out of the way," Qui-Gon ordered. "I am an ambassador for the

supreme chancellor, and I am taking these people to Coruscant. "

The droid brought up his weapon quickly, blocking the Jedi Master's

passage. "You are under arrest!"

It was scrap metal within seconds, dissected by Qui-Gon's lightsaber.

More of the battle droids rushed to stop the Jedi, who stood alone against

them as his charges boarded the Nubian vessel. Captain Panaka and the Naboo

guards formed a protective screen for the Queen and her handmaidens as they

hurried up the ramp. Jar Jar Binks clambered after, holding on to his head

with his long arms. Laser bolts lanced through the hangar from all

directions, and new alarms blared wildly.

On the far side of the hangar, Obi-Wan Kenobi launched himself at the

battle droids holding the Naboo pilots hostage, cutting into them with

ferocious determination. Qui-Gon watched his progress, long hair flying out

as he withstood yet another rush from the battle droids attempting to

reclaim the Queen's transport, blocking their laser bolts as he fought to

hold the boarding ramp. Obi-Wan was running toward him now, a handful of the

Naboo in tow. Explosions rose all around them, deadly laser fire burning

into metal and flesh. Several of the Naboo went down, but the battle droids

were unable to slow the Jedi.

Qui-Gon called sharply to Obi-Wan as he went past, telling him to get

the ship in the air. More battle droids were appearing at the hangar doors,

weapons firing. Qui-Gon backed quickly up the loading ramp and into the

transport's dimly lit interior. The ramp rose behind him and closed with a

soft whoosh.

The Headon-5 engines were firing even before the Jedi Master reached

the main cabin and flung himself into a chair. Laser fire hammered at the

sides of the sleek craft, but it was already beginning to move forward.

The

pilot sat hunched forward over the controls, his weathered face intense, a

sheen of sweat beading his forehead, hands steady on the controls.

"Hold

on," he said.

The Nubian shot through the hangar doors, ripping past battle droids

and laser fire, lifting away from the city of Theed into the blue, sunlit

sky. The planet of Naboo was left behind in seconds, the ship rising into

the darkness of space, arcing toward a suddenly visible cluster of Trade

Federation battleships blocking its way.

Qui-Gon left his seat and came forward to stand beside the pilot.

"Ric Olic," the other announced with a quick glance up at. the Jedi.

"Thanks for helping out back there."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Better save your thanks until we deal with what's up

here. "

The pilot gave him a rakish grin. "Copy that. What do we do about these

big boys? Our communications are still jammed."

"We're past the point of talking. Just keep the ship on course."

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. "Make sure everyone is settled safely in place."

His eyes moved to where Jar Jar Binks was already up and poking about.

The younger Jedi moved quickly to take the Gungan in hand, propelling

him forcibly through the main cabin door and into the anteway beyond.

Ignoring Jar Jar's protests, he glanced about for somewhere to stash the

bothersome creature. Catching sight of a low, cramped entry with the words

ASTROMECH DROIDS lettered above, he released the retaining latch and shoved

the Gungan inside.

"Stay here," he directed with a meaningful look. "And keep out of

trouble."

Jar Jar Binks watched the door close behind him, then glanced around. A

line of five R2 astromech droids stood against one wall, short, dome- topped,

all-purpose mechanics painted different colors, their lights off, their

engines quiet. Five identical units, each stout body positioned between two

sturdy restraint arms, they gave no indication of being aware of him.

The

Gungan ambled along in front of them, waiting to be noticed. Maybe they

weren't activated, he thought. Maybe they weren't even alive.

"Heydey ho, yous," he tried, hands gesturing. "Tis a long trip

somewheres, hey?"

No response. Jar Jar tapped the closest R2 unit, a bright red droid, on

the head. The tap made a hollow sound, and the head popped up a notch from

the cylindrical body.

"Whoa!" Jar Jar said, surprised. He glanced around, wondering why the

Jedi had put him down here when everyone else was up there. Nothing much to

do down here, he thought disconsolately. Nothing much happening.

Curious, he gripped the red droid's head and lifted gently.

"Dis

opens?" he whispered. He lifted some more. Something caught. He yanked hard.

"Dis...ooops!"

The head lifted right out of its seating. Springs and wires popped out

in a tangled mess. Jar Jar quickly jammed the red droid's head back into

place, easing his three-fingered hands away cautiously.

"Oh, oh, oh," he murmured, glancing about to make sure no one had seen,

hugging himself worriedly.

He moved down the line of droids, still looking for something to occupy

his time. He didn't want to be in this room, but he didn't think he should

try to leave, either. The younger Jedi, the one who had stuck him in here,

didn't like him much as it was. The Jedi would like him a whole lot less if

he caught Jar Jar sneaking out of this room.

Explosions sounded close by the transport. Cannon fire. The ship rocked

in response to a series of near misses. Jar Jar looked about wildly,

suddenly not liking where he was at all. Then the running lights began to

flicker, and the transport shook violently. Jar Jar moaned, and crouched

down in a corner. More explosions sounded, and the craft was buffeted from

side to side.

"We doomed," the frightened Gungan muttered. "Tis bad'. business, dis."

Abruptly the ship began to spin as if caught in a whirlpool. Jar Jar

cried out, fastening his arms about a strut to keep from being thrown

against the walls. The lights in the compartment all came on, and the droids

were abruptly activated. One by one, they began to whir and beep.

Released

from their restraints, they rolled out of their racks toward an airlock at

one end of the compartment-all but the red R2, who rolled directly into a

wall and fell over, more parts tumbling out.

The R2 unit painted blue paused as it motored by its red counterpart,

then charged past Jar Jar, giving out a loud screech that caused the Gungan

to jerk away in fright.

One after another, the four R2 units entered the airlock lift and were

sucked up toward the top of the ship.

Left behind in the storage compartment with the droid he had

unwittingly sabotaged, Jar Jar Binks moaned in despair.

8

Obi-wan Kenobi had just reentered the transport's cockpit when

explosions began to buffet the ship. He could see a huge Trade Federation

battleship looming ahead through the viewport, cannons firing. The Queen's

transport was rocked so violently by the blasts that it was thrown from its

trajectory. Ric Olie's gloved hands were locked onto the steering grips,

fighting to bring the slender craft back into line.

"We should abort, sir!" the pilot shouted at Qui-Gon, who was braced at

his side, eyes fixed on the battleship. "Our deflector shields can't

withstand much more of this! "

"Stay on course," the Jedi Master ordered calmly. He glanced down at

the controls. "Do you have a cloaking device?"

"This is not a warship!" Captain Panaka snapped, looking angry and

betrayed. "We have no weapons, Ambassador! We're a nonviolent people, which

is why the Trade Federation was brave enough to attack us in the first

place!"

A series of explosions jarred the Nubian, and the lights on the control

panel flickered weakly. An alarm sounded, shrill and angry. The transport

shuddered, its power drive stalling momentarily in a high-pitched whine.

"No weapons," Qui-Gon Jinn breathed. Obi-Wan was next to him, feeling

the weight of the other's gaze as it shifted to find him, steady and

unwavering. One hand settled on Ric Olie's shoulder. "The Trade Federation

uses pulser tracking for its weapons. Spin the ship. It will make it

difficult for them to get a reading on us."

The pilot nodded, flipped a series of levers, and put the Nubian into a

slow spin. Ahead, the battleship filled the viewport, then lost focus.

The

Queen's transport accelerated, racing toward the enemy craft, whipping past

towers and gunports, bays and stabilizers, speeding down an alleyway of

jagged metal protrusions and cannon fire. A laser bolt hammered into them,

causing sparks and smoke to explode from one panel, sending the ship

reeling. For a brief moment they were tumbling out of control. Then Ric Olie

pulled back hard on the controls, and the hull of the battleship receded.

"Something's wrong," the pilot announced quietly, fighting the

steering, feeling the ship shudder beneath. "Shields are down!"

They continued to spin, to hug the cavernous shell of the Trade

Federation battleship, so close that the larger guns were rendered useless

and only the smaller could chance firing at them. But without shields even a

glancing hit could be disastrous.

"Sending out the repair crew!" Olie shouted, and flipped a lever.

On the viewscreen, an airlock snapped open, and one by one a series of

astromech droids popped out of the hatch and onto the transport's hull.

The

transport straightened and leveled out, and the spinning stopped. The droids

motored swiftly across the hull, seeking out the damage as Ric Olie hugged

the battleship's shadow in an effort to protect them.

But now there was a new threat. Unable to bring the weapons of their

warship to bear in an effective manner, the Trade Federation command

dispatched a squad of starfighters. Small, sleek, robot attack ships, they

consisted of twin compartments attached to a rounded, swept-back head.

As

they roared out of the battleship bays, their compartments opened into long

slits that exposed their laser guns. Down the length of the mother ship they

tore, seeking out the Queen's transport. Fast and maneuverable, they had no

trouble working close to the battleship's hull. In seconds, they were on top

of the transport, weapons firing. Ric Olie struggled to find cover and gain

speed. Two of the R2 units were blown away, one on a direct hit, the second

when its hold on the transport hull was shattered.

On the viewscreen, the blue R2 unit could be seen working furiously to

connect a series of wires exposed by a damaged hull plate. Laser fire lanced

all around it, but it continued its effort without stopping. The fourth

droid, working close by, disappeared in a cloud of shattered metal and

brilliant fire.

Now only the blue unit remained, still busy amid the onslaught of Trade

Federation starfighters. Something changed on the cockpit display, and Ric

Olie gave a shout of approval. "The shields are up! That little droid did

it!" He jammed the thrusters all the way forward, and the transport rocketed

away from both the battleship and the starfighters, leaving the Trade

Federation blockade and the planet of Naboo behind.

The lone R2 unit turned and motored back into the airlock and

disappeared from view.

When they were well away from any Trade Federation presence, Ric Olie

made a thorough check of the controls, assessing their damage, trying to

determine what was needed. Obi-Wan sat next to him in the copilot's seat,

lending help. Qui-Gon and Captain Panaka stood behind them, awaiting their

report. The Queen and the rest of the Naboo had been secured in other

chambers.

Ric Olie shook his head doubtfully. "We can't go far. The hyperdrive is

leaking."

Qui-Gon Jinn nodded. "We'll have to land somewhere to make repairs to

the ship. What's out there?"

Ric Olie punched in a star chart, and they hunched over the monitor,

studying it.

"Here, Master," Obi-Wan said, his sharp eyes picking out the only

choice that made any sense. "Tatooine. It's small, poor, and out of the way.

It attracts little attention. The Trade Federation has no presence there.".

"How can you be sure?" Captain Panaka asked quickly.

Qui-Gon glanced at him. "It's controlled by the Hutts."

Panaka started in alarm. "The Hutts?"

"It's risky," Obi-Wan agreed, "but there's no reasonable alternative. "

Captain Panaka was not convinced. "You can't take Her Royal Highness

there! The Hutts are gangsters and slavers! If they discovered who she was-"

"It would be no different than if we landed on a planet in a system

controlled by the Trade Federation," Qui-Gon interrupted, "except the Hutts

aren't looking for the Queen, which gives us an advantage."

The Queen's head of security started to say something more,, then

thought better of it. He took a deep breath instead, frustration etched on

his smooth, dark face, and turned away.

Qui-Gon Jinn tapped Ric Olic on the shoulder. "Set course for

Tatooine."

In a remote conference room on the Trade Federation's flagship, Nute

Gunray and Rune Haako sat side by side at a long table, staring nervously at

a hologram of Darth Sidious positioned at the table's head. The hologram

shimmered with the movements of the Sith Lord's dark cloak, a patchwork of

small nuances that the Neimoidians found themselves unable to read.

The Sith Lord had not been summoned. The Neimoidians would have been

happy if he had chosen not to communicate with them at all this day. But in

keeping with the way he always seemed to sense when things were not going

right, he had appeared on his own. Demanding a report on the progress of the

invasion, he had settled back to listen to Nute Gunray's narrative and had

said nothing since.

"We control all the cities in the northern and western part of the

Naboo territory," the viceroy was relating, "and we are searching for any

other settlements where resistance-"

"Yes, yes," Darth Sidious interrupted suddenly, his soft voice vaguely

impatient. "You've done well. Now, then. Destroy all their high-ranking

officials. Do so quietly, but be thorough." He paused. "What of Queen

Amidala? Has she signed the treaty?"

Nute Gunray took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "She has

disappeared, my lord. There was an escape-"

"An escape?" The Sith Lord spoke the words in a low hiss.

"One Naboo cruiser got past the blockade-"

"How did she escape, Viceroy?"

Nute Gunray looked at Rune Haako for help, but his counterpart was

paralyzed with fear. "The Jedi, my lord. They found their way to her,

overpowered her guards..."

Darth Sidious stirred within his robes like a big cat, shadows

glimmering within the confines of his concealing hood. "Viceroy, find her! I

want that treaty signed!"

"My lord, we have been unable to locate the ship she escaped on,"

the

Neimoidian admitted, wishing he could sink into the floor right then and

there.

"Viceroy! "

"Once it got by us, we tried to give pursuit, but it managed to elude

us! Now it's out of our range-"

A wave of one robed arm cut him short. "Not for a Sith, it isn't,"

the

other whispered.

Something shimmered in the background of the hologram, and a figure

emerged from the darkness behind Darth Sidious. Nute Gunray froze. It was a

second Sith Lord. But whereas Darth Sidious was a vague and shadowy

presence, this new Sith was truly terrifying to look upon. His face was a

mask of jagged red and black patterns, the design etched into his skin, and

his skull was hairless and studded with a crown of short, hooked horns.

Gleaming yellow eyes fixed on the Neimoidians, breaking past their defenses,

stripping them bare and dismissing them as insignificant and foolish.

"Viceroy," Darth Sidious spoke softly in the sudden silence, "this is

my apprentice, Lord Maul. He will find your lost ship."

Nute Gunray inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, averting his

eyes from the frightening presence. "Yes, my lord."

The hologram shimmered and disappeared, leaving the conference room

empty of sound. The Neimoidians sat without moving, without even looking at

each other, reptilian eyes fixed, on the space the hologram had occupied.

"This is getting out of hand," Nute Gunray ventured finally, his voice

high and tight, thinking that their plans for sabotaging the trade-routes

tax did not contemplate risking their lives in the process.

Rune Haako managed a quick nod. "We should not have made this bargain.

What will happen when the Jedi become aware that we are doing business with

these Sith Lords?"

Nute Gunray, his hands clasped tightly before him, did not care to

venture an answer.

Aboard the Queen's transport, the Jedi stood with Captain Panaka and

the remaining R2 unit as the captain gave his report to the Queen on the

events surrounding their escape through the Trade Federation blockade.

Amidala sat surrounded by her three handmaidens, white face framed by the

black headdress, dark eyes steady, listening as the captain concluded.

"We are lucky to have this one in our service, Your Highness."

Panaka

glanced down at the blue-domed astromech droid. "It is an extremely well put

together little droid. Without a doubt, it saved the ship back there, not to

mention our lives."

Amidala nodded, eyes shifting to the droid. "It is to be commended.

What is its number?"

The little blue droid, lights blinking on and off as it processed the

conversation, gave a series of small beeps and tweets. Captain Panaka

reached down and scraped a large smudge off the droid's metal shell, then

straightened.

"Artoo-Detoo, Your Highness."

Queen Amidala leaned forward, and a slender white hand came out to

touch the droid's domed casing. "Thank you, Artoo-Detoo. You have proven

both loyal and brave." She glanced over her shoulder. "Padme."

One of her handmaidens came forward. Qui-Gon Jinn, listening to the

exchange with half an ear as he considered the problems that lay ahead on

Tatooine, noticed it was the young woman who had supported the Queen's

decision to escape from Naboo. He frowned. Except, it hadn't been exactly

like that...

"See to the cleaning up of this little droid." The Queen was speaking

to the girl. "Artoo-Detoo deserves our gratitude." She turned back to

Panaka. "Please continue with your report, Captain."

Panaka glanced uncomfortably at the Jedi Knights. "Your Highness, we

are heading for a remote planet called Tatooine." He paused, unwilling to

speak further on the matter.

"It is a system far beyond the reach of the Trade Federation." Qui-Gon

stepped into the gap smoothly. "Once there, we will be able to make needed

repairs to the ship, then to travel on to Coruscant and complete our

journey."

"Your Highness," Captain Panaka said quickly, regaining his thoughts on

the matter. "Tatooine is very dangerous. It's controlled by the Hutts.

The

Hutts are gangsters and slavers. I do not agree with the Jedi on their

decision to land there."

The Queen looked at Qui-Gon. The Jedi did not waver. "You must trust my

judgment, Your Highness."

"Must I?" Amidala asked quietly. She shifted her gaze to her

handmaidens, ending with Padme. The girl had not moved from the Queen's

side, but seemed to remember suddenly she had been given a task to complete.

She nodded briefly to the Queen, and moved to take R2-D2 in hand.

Amidala looked back at Qui-Gon Jinn. "We are in your hands,"

she

advised, and the matter was settled.

Jar Jar Binks had been left in the droid storage hold until after the

lone R2 unit returned through the airlock and the Naboo came to retrieve it.

They didn't seem to have any orders regarding the Gungan, so they simply

left him to his own devices. At first Jar Jar was reluctant to venture out,

still thinking of the younger Jedi's admonishment to stay put and out of

trouble. He'd managed one out of two, and he wasn't sure he wanted to tempt

fate.

But in the end his curiosity and restlessness got the better of him.

The transport had stopped spinning, the Trade Federation attack had ceased,

and the warning alarms had been silenced. Everything was peaceful, and the

Gungan saw no reason why he should have to stay shut away in this tiny room

for one more minute.

So he cracked the door, stuck his billed face out for a look around,

eyestalks swiveling guardedly, saw no one, and made his decision. He left

the storage room and wandered along the ship's corridors-choosing a path

that took him away from the cockpit, where the Jedi were likely to be found.

He waited for someone to tell him to go back to where he had come from, but

no one did, so he began to poke into things, careful what he touched, but

unable to help himself sufficiently to forgo all investigation. He was

following a narrow corridor that led up from the lower levels of the

transport to the main cabin when he poked his head through an airlock to

find one of the Queen's handmaidens hard at work with an old cloth

cleaning

the R2 astromech droid.

"Heydey ho!" he called out.

The handmaiden and the R2 unit both started, the girl with a small cry

and the droid with a loud beep. Jar Jar jumped in turn, then slowly eased

himself through the opening, embarrassed that he had frightened them so

badly.

"Me sorry," he apologized. "Me not mean to scare yous. Okeday?"

The girl smiled. "That's all right. Come over here."

Jar Jar came forward a few steps, studying the condition of the droid.

"Me find oilcan back dere. Yous need it?"

The girl nodded. "It would help. This little guy is quite a mess."

Jar Jar scrambled back through the opening, groped about a bit, found

the oilcan he had remembered, and brought it to the girl. "This helps?"

"Thank you," she said, accepting the can. She flipped up the cap and

poured some of the oil onto the cloth, then began rubbing the R2

unit's

dome.

"Me Jar Jar Binks," Jar Jar said after a few moments, taking a chance

on trying to continue the conversation. He liked this Naboo girl.

"I'm Padme," the girl answered. "I attend Her Highness, Queen Amidala.

This is Artoo-Detoo." She rubbed a black smudge from the droid's strut.

"You're a Gungan, aren't you?"

Jar Jar nodded, long ears flapping against his neck. "How did you end

up here with us?"

Jar Jar thought about it a minute. "Me not know exactly. Da day start

okeday wit da sunnup. Me munchen clams. Den, boom! Maccaneks every which

way, dey flyen, dey scooten...Me get very scared. Den Jedi runnen, and me

grab Quiggon, den maccaneks rollen over, den go down under da lake to Otoh

Gunga ta da Boss Nass..."

He stopped, not knowing where else to go. Padme was nodding

encouragingly. R2-D2 beeped. "Tis 'bout it. Before me know what, pow!

Me

here!"

He sat back on his haunches and shrugged. "Get very, very scared."

He looked from the girl to the droid. Padme smiled some more.

R2-D2

beeped again. Jar Jar felt pretty good.

In the cockpit, Ric Olie was directing the transport toward a large

yellowish planet that was steadily filling up the viewport as they

approached its surface. The Jedi and Captain Panaka stood behind him,

peering over his shoulder at the ground maps he had punched up on the

monitors.

"Tatooine," Obi-Wan Kenobi confirmed, speaking to no one in particular.

Ric Olie pointed to one of the maps on the scopes. "There's a

settlement that should have what we need...a spaceport, it looks like.

Mos

Espa." He glanced up at the Jedi.

"Land near the city's outskirts," Qui-Gon Jinn ordered. "We don't want

to attract attention."

The pilot nodded and began to guide the transport in. It took only

moments to direct it down through the planet's atmosphere to a patch of

desert just in sight of the city. The Nubian landed in a swirl of dust,

settling comfortably in place atop its landing struts. In the distance, Mos

Espa glimmered faintly through the shimmer of the midday heat.

Qui-Gon sent his protege to uncouple the hyperdrive and Captain Panaka

to advise the Queen of their landing. He was settled on going into the

spaceport alone as he left the cockpit to find other clothing and carne upon

Jar Jar Binks, the Queen's handmaiden Padme, and the little R2 unit.

He slowed, considering the possibility that going into the city alone

would make him more noticeable. "Jar Jar," he said finally. "Get ready.

You're going with me. The droid as well."

He continued on without looking back. The Gungan stared after him in

disbelief, then in horror. By the time he regained his wits, the Jedi was

out of view. Wailing in dismay, he chased after him and came upon Obi- Wan in

the main cabin hoisting the hyperdrive out of the bowels of the ship.

"Obi-One, sire!" he gasped, throwing himself to his knees in front of

the younger Jedi. "Pleeese, me no go wit Quiggon!"

Obi-Wan was inclined to agree, but knew better than to say so.

"Sorry,

but Qui-Gon is right. This is a multinational spaceport, a trading center.

You'll make him appear less obvious by going along." His brow furrowed as he

turned back to the hyperdrive. "I hope," he muttered to himself.

Jar Jar climbed to his feet and trudged disconsolately toward R2-D2,

his mouth set in a grimace of forbearance. The astromech droid beeped in

sympathy, then made a series of encouraging clicks.

Qui-Gon reappeared, dressed now as a farmer in tunic, leggings, and a

poncho. He walked past them to where Obi-Wan was studying the hyperdrive.

"What have you found?"

Obi-Wan's young face clouded. "The generator is shot. We'll need a new

one. "

"I thought as much." The Jedi Master knelt next to his protege.

"Well,

we can't risk a communication with Coruscant this far out on the edge of the

galaxy. It might be intercepted and our position revealed. We'll have to get

by on our own." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Don't let anyone

send a transmission while I'm gone. Be wary, Obi-Wan. I sense a disturbance

in the Force."

Obi-Wan's eyes lifted to find his. "I feel it also, Master. I will be

careful."

Qui-Gon rose, gathered up Jar Jar and the R2 unit, and headed down the

loading ramp to the planet's floor. An empty carpet of sand stretched away

in all directions, broken only by massive rock formations and the distant

skyline of Mos Espa. The suns that gave the planet life beat down with such

ferocity that it seemed as if they were determined to steal that life back

again. Heat rose off the sand in a shimmering wave, and the air was so dry

it sucked the moisture from their throat and nose passages.

Jar Jar glanced skyward, eyestalks craning, billed amphibious face

wrinkling in dismay. "Dis sun gonna do murder ta da skin of ills Gungan,"

he

muttered.

At a signal from Qui-Gon, they began to walk-or, in the case of the R2

unit, to roll. A strange caravan of animals and riders, carts and sleds

appeared against the distant skyline like a shadowy mirage, all misshapen

and threatening to evaporate in the blink of an eye. Jar Jar muttered some

more, but no one was paying attention.

They had not gotten far when a shout brought them around. Two figures

were running toward them from the transport. As they neared, Qui-Gon was

able to make out Captain Panaka and a girl dressed in rough peasant's garb.

He stopped and waited until they caught up, a frown creasing his leonine

features.

Panaka was sweating. "Her Highness commands you to take her handmaiden

with you. She wishes for Padme to give her own report of what you might-"

"No more commands from Her Highness today, Captain," Qui-Gon

interrupted quickly, shaking his head in refusal. "Mos Espa is not going to

be a pleasant place for-"

"The Queen wishes it," Panaka interrupted him right back, his face

angry and set. "She is emphatic. She wishes to know more about this planet."

The girl took a step forward. Her dark eyes found Qui-Gon's. "I've been

trained in self-defense. I speak a number of languages. I am not afraid.

I

can take care of myself."

Captain Panaka sighed, looking over his shoulder toward the ship.

"Don't make me go back and tell her you refuse."

Qui-Gon hesitated, prepared to do exactly that. Then he looked at Padme

again, saw strength in her eyes, and changed his mind. She might be useful.

Traveling with a girl, they might suggest a family in transit and present a

less aggressive look.

He nodded. "I don't have time to argue the matter, Captain. I still

think this is a bad idea, but she may come." He gave Padme a look of

warning. "Stay close to me."

He started away again, the others trailing. Captain Panaka stood

watching with undisguised relief as the strange little procession of Jedi

Master, handmaiden, Gungan, and astromech droid moved off into the

sweltering landscape toward Mos Espa.

9

It was not yet midafternoon by the time the members of the little

company under Qui-Gon Jinn's command reached Mos Espa and made their way

toward the spaceport's center. Mos Espa was large and sprawling and had the

look of a gnarled serpent hunkered down in the sand to escape the heat.

The

buildings were domed and thick-walled and curved to protect against the sun,

and the stalls and shops were fronted by awnings and verandas that provided

a measure of shade to their vendors. Streets were broad and packed with

beings of every shape and size, most from off planet. Some rode the

desert-seasoned eo pies. Domesticated banthas, massive and horned, and

lumbering dew backs hauled carts, sleds, and wagons that ran on wheels and

mechanical tracks by turn, a mishmash of commerce trafficking between

Tatooine's smaller ports and the planets of star systems beyond.

Qui-Gon kept a close watch for trouble. There were Rodians and Dugs and

others whose purpose was always suspect. Most of those they passed paid them

no notice. One or two turned to glance at Jar Jar, but dismissed the Gungan

almost out of hand once they got a good look at him. As a group, they

blended in nicely. There were so many combinations of creatures of every

species that the appearance of one more meant almost nothing.

"Tatooine is home to Jabba the Hutt, who controls the bulk of the

trafficking in illegal goods, piracy, and slavery that generates most of the

planet's wealth," Qui-Gon was explaining to Padme. He had been on Tatooine

before, though it had been some years ago. "Jabba controls the spaceports

and settlements, all of the populated areas. The desert belongs to the

Jawas, who scavenge whatever they can find to sell or trade, and to the

Tuskens, who live a nomadic life and feel free to steal from everyone."

The Jedi kept his voice low and conversational. The girl walked

silently at his elbow, her sharp eyes taking in everything. Speeders nosed

by them, and droids of every size toiled in the service of desert-garbed

aliens.

"There are a number of farms as well, outlying operations that take

advantage of the climate-moisture farms for the most part, operated by

off-worlders not a part of the indigenous tribes and scavengers, not

connected directly to the Hutts." His eyes. swept the street ahead. "This is

a rough and dangerous place. Most avoid it. Its few spaceports have become

havens for those who do not wish to be found."

Padme glanced up at him. "Like us," she said.

A pair of domesticated banthas rumbled down the broad avenue, hairy

bulks clearing a path for a sled train of quarry blocks and metal struts,

horned heads nodding sleepily, padded feet stirring sand and dust in thick

clouds with each lumbering step. Their driver dozed atop the foremost sled

in the train, small and insignificant in their shadow.

Jar Jar Binks stayed as close as he could manage to the Jedi and the

girl, his eyes darting left and right, head swiveling as if it might twist

right off his shoulders. Nothing he saw was familiar or welcome. Hard looks

followed after him. Sharp eyes measured him for things he would just as soon

not think about. Stares were at best challenging and at worst unfriendly.

He

did not like this place. He wished he were almost anywhere else.

"Tis very bad, dis." He swallowed against a dryness in his throat that

was caused by more than the heat. "Nutten good 'bout ills place!" He took a

careless step and found himself ankle deep in a foul-smelling ooze. "Oh, oh.

Tis icky!"

R2-D2 rolled cheerfully along at his side, beeping and chirping in a

futile effort at reassuring the Gungan that all was well.

They traveled the main street of the spaceport to its far end and

turned down a side street that led to a small plaza ringed with salvage

dealers and junk shops. Qui-Gon glanced at the mounds of engine parts,

control panels, and communication chips recovered from starships and

speeders.

"We'll try one of these smaller dealers first," he advised, nodding

toward one in which a vast pile of old transports and parts was heaped

within an attached compound.

They walked through the shop's low entry and were greeted by a pudgy

blue creature who flew into their faces like a crazed probe, tiny wings

buzzing so fast they could barely be seen. "Hi chubba da nago?" it snapped

in a frizzy, guttural voice, demanding to know their business.

A Toydarian, Qui-Gon thought. He knew enough to recognize one, but not

much else. "I need parts for a J-type 327 Nubian," he advised the other.

The Toydarian fairly beamed with delight, his reticular snout curling

over his toothy mouth and making odd smacking noises. "Ah, yes! Nubian!

We

have lots of that." The sharp, bulbous eyes flicked from one face to the

other, ending with the Gungan. "What's this?"

Jar Jar shrank behind Qui-Gon fearfully. "Never mind that." The Jedi

brushed the Toydarian's question aside. "Call. you help us or not?"

"Can you pay me or not-that's the question!" The skinny blue arms

crossed defiantly over the rounded torso as the Toydarian regarded them with

disdain. "What kinda junk you after, farmer?"

"My droid has a readout of what I need," Qui-Gon advised the other with

a glance down at the R2 unit.

Still hanging midair in front of Qui-Gon's nose, the Toydarian glanced

over one shoulder. "Peedunkel! Naba dee unko!"

A small, disheveled boy raced in from the salvage yard, coming to an

uncertain stop in front of them. His clothes were ragged and thick with

grime, and he had the look of someone about to be given a beating.

He

flinched as the Toydarian wheeled back and lifted a hand in admonishment.

"What took you so long?"

"Mel tass chopas kee," the boy responded quickly, blue eyes taking in

the newcomers with a quick glance. "I was cleaning out the bin like you-"

"Chut-chut!" The Toydarian threw up his hands angrily. "Never mind the

bin! Watch the store! I've got some selling to do!"

He flitted back around to face his customers. "So, let me take you out

back. You'll soon find what you need."

He darted toward the salvage yard, beckoning Qui-Gon eagerly. The Jedi

followed, with R2-D2 trundling after. Jar Jar moved to a shelf and picked up

an odd - looking bit of metal, intrigued by its shape, wondering what it

was.

"Don't touch anything," Qui-Gon called over his shoulder, his tone of

voice sharp.

Jar Jar put the item down and made a face at Qui-Gon's departing back,

sticking out his long tongue in defiance. When the Jedi was out of sight, he

picked up the part again.

Anakin Skywalker could not take his eyes off the girl. He noticed her

the moment he entered Watto's shop, even before Watto said anything, and he

hadn't been able to stop looking at her since. He barely heard what Watto

said to him about watching the shop. He barely noticed the strange-looking

creature that had come in with her and was poking around in the shelves and

bins. Even after she noticed he was staring at her, he could not help

himself.

He moved now to an open space on the counter, hoisted himself up, and

sat watching her while pretending to clean a transmitter cell. She was

looking back at him now, embarrassment turning to curiosity. She was small

and slender with long, braided brown hair, brown eyes, and a face he found

so beautiful that he had nothing to which he could compare it. She was

dressed in rough peasant's clothing, but she seemed very self-possessed.

She gave him an amused smile, and he felt himself melting in confusion

and wonder. He took a deep breath. "Are you an angel?" he asked quietly.

The girl stared. "What?"

"An angel." Anakin straightened a bit. "They live on the moons of Iego,

I think. They are the most beautiful creatures in the universe. They are

good and kind, and so pretty they make even the most hardened space pirates

cry like small children."

She gave him a confused look. "I've never heard of angels," she said.

"You must be one of them," Anakin insisted. "Maybe you just don't know

it."

"You're a funny little boy." The amused smile returned. "How do you

know so much?"

Anakin smiled back and shrugged. "I listen to all the traders and

pilots who come through here." He glanced toward the salvage yard. "I'm a

pilot, you know. Someday, I'm going to fly away from this place."

The girl wandered to one end of the counter, looked away, then back

again. "Have you been here long?"

"Since I was very little-three, I think. My mom and I were sold to

Gardulla the Hutt, but she lost us to Watto, betting on the pod races.

Watto's a lot better master, I think."

She stared at him in shock. "You're a slave?"

The way she said it made Anakin feel ashamed and angry. He glared at

her defiantly. "I am a person!"

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, looking upset and embarrassed. "I don't

fully understand, I guess. This is a strange world to me."

He studied her intently for a moment, thinking of other things, wanting

to tell her of them. "You are a strange girl to me," he said instead.

He

swung his legs out from the counter.

"My name is Anakin Skywalker."

She brushed at her hair. "Padme Naberrie."

The strange creature she had come in with wandered back to the front of

the shop and bent over a stout little droid body with a bulbous nose.

Reaching up curiously, it pushed at the nose with one finger.

Instantly

armatures popped out from every direction, metal limbs swinging into place.

The droid's motors whizzed and whirred, and it jerked to life and began

moving forward. Padme's odd companion went after it with a moan of dismay,

grabbing on in an effort to slow it down, but the droid continued marching

through the shop, knocking over everything it came in contact with.

"Hit the nose!" Anakin called out, unable to keep himself from

laughing.

The creature did as it was told, pounding the droid's nose wildly.

The

droid stopped at once, the arms and legs retracted, the motors shut down,

and the droid went still. Both Anakin and Padme were laughing now, and their

laughter increased as they saw the look on the unfortunate creature's long -

billed face.

Anakin looked at Padme and the girl at him. Their laughter died away.

The girl reached up to touch her hair self-consciously, but she did not

divert her gaze.

"I'm going to marry you," the boy said suddenly.

There was a moment of silence, and she began laughing again, a sweet

musical sound he didn't mind at all. The creature who accompanied her rolled

his eyes.

"I mean it," he insisted.

"You are an odd one," she said, her laughter dying away. "Why do you

say that?"

He hesitated. "I guess because it's what I believe..."

Her smile was dazzling. "Well, I'm afraid I can't marry you..."

She

paused, searching her memory for his name.

"Anakin," he said.

"Anakin." She cocked her head. "You're just a little boy."

His gaze was intense as he faced her. "I won't always be," he said

quietly.

***

In the salvage yard, Watto was studying the screen of a portable memory

bank he held in one hand, tracing through his inventory record. Qui-Gon,

arms folded into his farmer's poncho, stood waiting patiently, the R2

unit

at his side.

"Ah, here it is. A T-14 hyperdrive generator!" The Toydarian's wings

beat wildly as he hovered before the Jedi, his gnarled finger jabbing at the

viewscreen. "You're in luck. I'm the only one hereabouts who has one.

But

you might as well buy a new ship. It would be cheaper. Speaking of which,

how're you going to pay for all this, farmer?"

Qui-Gon considered. "I have twenty thousand Republic dataries to put

toward-"

"Republic credits?" Watto exploded in disgust. "Republic credits are no

good out here! I need something better than that, something of value..."

The Jedi Master shook his head. "I don't have anything else." One hand

came up, passing casually in front of the Toydarian's face. "But credits

will do fine."

"No, they won't!" Watto snapped, buzzing angrily.

Qui-Gon frowned, then passed his hand in front of the pudgy blue alien

again, bringing the full force of his Jedi suggestive power to bear.

"Credits will do fine," he repeated.

Watto sneered. "No, they won't!" he repeated. "What do you think you're

doing, waving your hand around like that? You think you're some kinda Jedi?

Hah! I'm a Toydarian! Mind tricks don't work on me-only money! No money, no

parts, no deal! And no one else has a T-14 hyperdrive generator, I can

promise you that!"

Chagrined, Qui-Gon wheeled back for the shop, the R2 unit following at

his heels. The Toydarian shouted after them to come back when they had

something worthwhile to trade, still scolding the Jedi Master for trying to

foist Republic credits on him. Qui-Gon reentered the shop just as Jar Jar

pulled a part from a large stack and sent the entire arrangement tumbling

to

the floor. His efforts at correcting the problem brought a second display

crashing down as well.

The boy and the Queen's handmaiden were deep in discussion, paying no

attention to the Gungan.

"We're leaving," Qui-Gon announced to the girl, moving toward the

shop's entry, the R2 unit trundling along behind.

Jar Jar was quick to follow, anxious to escape his latest mess.

Padme

gave the boy a warm smile. "I'm glad I met you, Anakin," she said, turning

after them.

"I'm glad I met you, too," he called after, a reluctance evident in his

voice.

Watto flew in from the salvage yard, shaking his head in disgust.

"Outlanders! They think because we live so far from everything, we know

nothing!"

Anakin was still staring longingly after Padme, his gaze fixed on the

empty doorway. "They seemed nice enough to me."

Watto snorted and flew into his face. "Clean up this mess, then you can

go home!"

Anakin brightened, gave a small cheer, and went quickly to work.

Qui-Gon led his companions back through the lime plaza of salvage shops

toward the main avenue. At a place where two buildings divided to form a

shadowed niche, the Jedi Master moved everyone from view and brought out his

comlink from beneath his poncho. Padme and the R2 unit stood waiting

patiently, but Jar Jar prowled the space as if trapped, eyes fixed nervously

on the busy street.

When Obi-Wan responded to the comlink's pulse, Qui-Gon quickly filled

him in on the situation. "Are you sure there isn't anything of value left on

board?" he concluded.

There was a pause at the other end. "A few containers of supplies, the

Queen's wardrobe, some jewelry maybe. Not enough for you to barter with.

Not

in the amounts you're talking about."

"All right," Qui-Gon responded with a frown. "Another solution will

present itself. I'll check back."

He tucked the comlink beneath his poncho and signaled to the others.

He

was moving toward the street again when Jar Jar grabbed his arm.

"Noah gain, sire," the Gungan pleaded. "Da beings hereabouts crazy

nuts. We goen be robbed and crunched!"

"Not likely," Qui-Gon replied with a sigh, freeing himself. "We have

nothing of value. That's our problem."

They started back down the street, Qui-Gon trying to think what to do

next. Padme and R2-D2 stayed close as they made their way through the

crowds, but Jar Jar began to lag behind, listracted by all the strange

sights and smells. They were passing an outdoor cafe, its tables occupied by

a rough-looking bunch of aliens, among them a Dug who was holding forth on

the merits of Podracing. Jar Jar hurried to catch up to his companions, but

then caught sight of a string of frogs hanging from a wire in front of a

nearby stall. The Gungan slowed, his mouth watering. He had not eaten in

some time. He glanced around to see if anyone was looking, then unfurled his

long tongue and snapped up one of the frogs. The frog disappeared into Jar

Jar's mouth in the blink of an eye..

Unfortunately, the frog was still securely tied to the wire. Jar Jar

stood there, the wire hanging out of his mouth, unable to move.

The vendor in charge of the stall rushed out. "Hey, that will be seven

truguts!"

Jar Jar glanced frantically down the street for his companions, but

they were already out of sight. In desperation, he let go of the frog.

The

frog popped out of his mouth as if catapulted, winging away at the end of

the taut wire. It ricocheted this way and that, breaking free at last to

land directly in the Dug's soup, splashing gooey liquid all over him.

The gangly Dug leapt to his feet in fury, catching sight of the hapless

Jar Jar as he tried to move away from the frog vendor. Springing across the

table on all fours, he was on top of the Gungan in an instant, grabbing him

by the throat.

"Chubba! You!" the Dug snarled through its corded snout. Feelers and

mandibles writhed. "Is this yours?"

The Dug shoved the frog in the Gungan's face threateningly. Jar Jar

could not get any words out, gasping for breath, fighting to break free.

His

eyes rolled wildly as he looked for help that wasn't there. Other creatures

pushed forward to surround him, Rodians among them. The Dug threw Jar Jar to

the ground, shouting at him, hovering over him in a crouch. Desperately, the

Gungan tried to scramble to safety.

"No, no," he moaned plaintively as he sought an avenue of escape.

"Why

me always da one?"

"Because you're afraid," a voice answered calmly.

Anakin Skywalker pushed his way through the crowd, coming up to stand

next to the Dug. The boy seemed unafraid of the creature, undeterred by the

hard-eyed crowd, his bearing self assured. He gave the Dug an appraising

look. "Chess ko, Sebulba," he said. "Careful. This one's very well

connected."

Sebulba turned to face the boy, cruel face twisting with disdain as he

caught sight of the newcomer. "Tooney rana dunko, shag?" he snapped,

demanding to know what the boy meant.

Anakin shrugged. "Connected-as in Hutt." The blue eyes fixed the Dug

and saw a hint of fear in the other's face. "Big-time connected, this one,

Sebulba. I'd hate to see you diced before we had a chance to race again."

The Dug spit in fury. "Neek me chawa! Next time we race, wermo, it will

be the end of you!" He gestured violently. "Uto notu wo shag! If you weren't

a slave, I'd squash you here and now!"

With a final glare at the cringing Jar Jar, Sebulba wheeled away,

taking his companions with him, back to their tables and their food and

drink. Anakin stared after the Dug. "Yeah, it'd be a pity if you had to pay

for me," he said softly.

He was helping Jar Jar back to his feet when Qui-Gon, Padme, and R2- D2,

having finally missed the Gungan, reappeared hurriedly through the crowd.

"Hi!" he greeted cheerfully, happy to see Padme again so soon.

"Your

buddy here was about to be turned into orange goo. He picked a fight with a

Dug. An especially dangerous Dug."

"Nossir, nossir!" the chagrined Gungan insisted, brushing off dust and

sand. "Me hate crunchen. Tis da last thing me want!"

Qui-Gon gave Jar Jar a careful once-over, glanced around at the crowd,

and took the Gungan by the arm. "Nevertheless, the boy saved you from a

beating. You have a penchant for finding trouble, Jar Jar." He gave Anakin a

short nod. "Thank you, my young friend."

Padme gave Anakin a warm smile as well, and the boy felt himself blush

with pride.

"Me doen nutten!" Jar Jar insisted, still trying to defend himself,

hands gesturing for emphasis.

"You were afraid," the boy told him, looking up at the long-billed face

solemnly. "Fear attracts the fearful. Sebulba was trying to overcome his

fear by squashing you." He cocked his head at the Gungan. "You can help

yourself by being less afraid."

"And that works for you?" Padme asked skeptically, giving him a wry

look.

Anakin smiled and shrugged. "Well...up to a point."

Anxious to spend as much time as possible with the girl, he persuaded

the group to follow him a short distance down the street to a fruit stand, a

ramshackle affair formed by a makeshift ragged awning stretched over a

framework of bent poles. Boxes of brightly colored fruit were arranged on a

rack tilted toward the street for viewing. A weathered old lady, gray-haired

and stooped, her simple clothing patched and worn, rose from a stool to

greet them on their approach.

"How are you feeling today, Jira?" Anakin asked her, giving her a quick

hug.

The old lady smiled. "The heat's never been kind to me, you know,

Annie."

"Guess what?" the boy replied quickly, beaming. "I've found that

cooling unit I've been searching for. It's pretty beat up, but I'll have it

fixed up for you in no time, I promise. That should help."

Jira reached out to brush his pink cheek with her wrinkled hand, her

smile broadening. "You're a fine boy, Annie."

Anakin shrugged off the compliment and began scanning the fruit

display. "I'll take four pallies, Jira." He glanced at Padme eagerly.

"You'll like these. "

He reached into his pocket for the truguts he had been saving, but when

he brought them out to pay Jira, he dropped one. The farmer, standing next

to him, bent to retrieve it. As he did, his poncho opened just far enough

that the boy caught sight of the lightsaber hanging from the belt about his

waist.

The boy's eyes went wide, but he masked his surprise by focusing on the

coins. He only had three, he found. "Whoops, I thought I had more," he said

quickly, not looking up. "Make that three pallies, Jira. I'm not that hungry

anyway."

The old woman gave Qui-Gon, Padme, and Jar Jar their pallies and took

the coins from Anakin. A gust of wind whipped down the street, rattling the

framework of poles and causing the awning to billow. A second gust sent dust

swirling in all directions.

Jira rubbed her arms with her gnarled hands. "Gracious, my bones are

aching. There's a storm coming, Annie. You'd better get home quick."

The wind gusted in a series of sharp blasts that sent sand and loose

debris flying. Anakin glanced at the sky, then at Qui-Gon. "Do you have

shelter?" he asked.

The Jedi Master nodded. "We'll head back to our ship. Thank you again,

my young friend, for-"

"Is your ship far?" the boy interrupted hurriedly. All around them,

shopkeepers and vendors were closing and shuttering windows and doors,

carrying goods and wares inside, wrapping coverings over displays and boxes.

"It's on the city's outskirts," Padme answered, turning away from the

stinging gusts of sand.

Anakin took her hand quickly, tugging on it. "You'll never reach the

outskirts in time. Sandstorms are very, very dangerous. Come with me.

You

can wait it out at my home. It's not far. My mom won't mind. Hurry!"

With the wind howling all about them and the air clouded with sand,

Anakin Skywalker shouted good-bye to Jira and led his newly adopted charges

down the street in a rush.

On the outskirts of Mos Espa, Obi-Wan Kenobi stood near the nose of the

Nubian as the wind gathered force, whipping at his robe, tearing across the

broad expanse of the Tatooine desert. His troubled eyes looked off into the

distance where Mos Espa was beginning to disappear behind a curtain of sand.

He turned as Captain Panaka came down the ramp of the transport to join him.

"This storm's going to slow them down," the Jedi observed worriedly.

Panaka nodded. "It looks pretty bad. We'd better seal up the ship

before it gets any worse."

There was a beep from the soldier's comlink. Panaka retrieved the

communicator from his belt. "Yes?"

Ric Olie's voice rose from the speaker. "We're receiving a message from

home."

Panaka and Obi-Wan exchanged glances. "We'll be right there,"

the

captain advised.

They went up the ramp quickly, sealing it behind them. The transmission

had been received in the Queen's chambers. At Ric Olie's direction, they

found Amidala and her handmaidens Eirtae and Rabe viewing a hologram of Sio

Bibble that was shimmering weakly at one end of the room, the governor's

voice breaking up in transmission.

"...cut off all our food supplies until you return...death toll rising,

catastrophic...must bow to their wishes, Your Highness..." Sio Bibble's

image and voice faded and returned, garbled still. "Please, I beg of you,

tell us what to do! If you can hear me, Your Highness, you must contact

me..."

The transmission flickered and disappeared. The governor's voice faded

into silence. Queen Amidala sat staring at the empty space it left behind,

her smooth face troubled. Her hands worked quietly in her lap, betraying a

nervousness she could not quite manage to hide.

Her gaze shifted to Obi-Wan. The Jedi shook his head quickly. "It is a

trick. Send no reply, Your Highness. Send no transmission of any kind."

The Queen stared at him uncertainly for a moment, then nodded in

acquiescence. Obi-Wan left her chambers without further comment, hoping

fervently he had made the right decision.

10

The sandstorm raged through the streets of Mos Espa in a blinding,

choking whirlwind that tore at clothes and exposed skin with relentless

force. Anakin held Padme's hand so as not to lose her, the farmer, the

amphibious creature, and the R2 unit trailing behind, fighting to reach his

home in the city's slave quarters while there was still time.

Other

residents and visitors struggled past, engaged in a similar pursuit, heads

lowered, faces covered, bodies bent over as if weighted by age. Somewhere in

the distance, an eopie bawled in fright. The light turned an odd yellowish

gray, obscured by sand and grit, and the buildings of the city disappeared

in a deep, impenetrable haze.

Even as he fought his way through the storm, Anakin's thoughts were

directed elsewhere. He was thinking of Padme, of having the chance to take

her home to meet his mother, of being able to show her his projects, of

holding her hand some more. It sent a flush through him that was both warm

and kind of scary. It made him feel good about himself. He was thinking of

the farmer, too - if that's what he was, which Anakin was pretty sure he

wasn't. He carried a lightsaber, and only Jedi carried lightsabers.

It was almost too much to hope for, that a real Jedi might be going to

his home, to visit him. But Anakin's instincts told him he was not mistaken,

and that something mysterious and exciting had brought this little group to

him.

He was thinking, finally, of his dreams and his hopes for himself and

his mother, thinking that maybe something wonderful would come out of this

unexpected encounter, something that would change his life forever.

They reached the slave quarters, a jumbled collection of hovels stacked

one on top of the other so that they resembled anthills, each complex linked

by common walls and switchback' stairways, the plaza fronting them almost

empty as the sandstorm chased everyone under cover. Anakin led his charges

through the gritty gloom to his front door and pushed his way inside.

"Mom! Mom! I'm home!" he called excitedly. Adobe walls, whitewashed and

scrubbed, glimmered softly in a mix of storm-clouded sunlight admitted

through small, arched windows and a diffuse electric glow from ceiling

fixtures. They stood in the main room, a smallish space dominated by a table

and chairs. A kitchen occupied one wall and a work space another.

Openings

led to smaller nooks and sleeping rooms. Outside, the wind howled past the

doors and windows, shaving a fresh layer of skin from the exterior of the

walls.

Jar Jar Binks looked around with a mix of curiosity and relief.

"Tis

cozy," he murmured.

Anakin's mother entered from a work area off to one side, brushing her

hands on her dress. She was a woman of forty, her long brown hair tied back

from her worn face, her clothing rough and simple. She had been pretty once,

and Anakin would say she was pretty still, but time and the demands of her

life were catching up with her. Her smile was warm and youthful as she

greeted her son, but it faded quickly as she caught sight of the people

behind him.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed softly, glancing uncertainly from face to face.

"Annie, what's this?"

Anakin beamed. "These are my friends, Mom." He smiled at Padme.

"This

is Padme Naberrie. And this is-" He stopped. "Gee, I guess I don't know any

of your names," he admitted.

Qui-Gon stepped forward. "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Jar Jar Binks."

He indicated the Gungan, who made a sort of fluttering gesture with his

hands.

The R2 unit made a small beep.

"And our droid, Artoo-Detoo," Padme finished.

"I'm building a droid," Anakin announced quickly, anxious to show Padme

his project. "You wanna see?"

"Anakin!" His mother's voice stopped him in his tracks.

Resolve

tightened her features. "Anakin, why are they here?"

He looked at her, confused. "There's a sandstorm, Mom. Listen."

She glanced at the door, then out the windows. The wind howled past, a

river of sand and grit.

"Your son was kind enough to offer us shelter," Qui-Gon explained.

"We

met at the shop where he works."

"Come on!" Anakin insisted, grabbing Padme's hand once more. "Let me

show you my droid."

He led Padme toward his bedroom, already beginning a detailed

explanation of what he was doing. The girl followed without arguing,

listening attentively. R2-D2 went with them, beeping in response to the

boy's words.

Jar Jar stayed where he was, still looking around, appearing to want

someone to tell him what to do. Qui-Gon stood facing the boy's mother in

awkward silence. Grains of sand beat against the thick glass of the windows

with a rapid pocking sound.

"I'm Shmi Skywalker," she said, holding out her hand. "Anakin and I are

pleased to have you as our guests."

Qui-Gon had already appraised the situation and determined what was

needed. He reached under his poncho and pulled five small capsules from a

pouch in his belt. "I know this is unexpected. Take these. There's enough

food for a meal."

She accepted the capsules. "Thank you." Her eyes lifted and lowered

again. "Thank you very much. I'm sorry if I was abrupt. I'll never get used

to Anakin's surprises, I guess." "He's a very special boy," Qui-Gon offered.

Shmi's eyes lifted again, and the look she gave him suggested they

shared an important secret.

"Yes," she said softly, "I know."

In his bedroom, Anakin was showing Padme C-3PO. The droid lay on his

workbench, deactivated at the moment because the boy was in the process of

fabricating its metal skin. He had completed the internal wiring, but its

torso, arms, and legs were still bare of any covering. One eye was out of

its head as well, lying nearby where he had left it after tightening down

the visual refractor the night before.

Padme bent over his shoulder, studying the droid carefully.

"Isn't he great?" Anakin asked eagerly, anxious for her reaction.

"He's

not finished yet, but he will be soon."

"He's wonderful," the girl answered, genuinely impressed.

The boy flushed with pride. "You really like him? He's a protocol

droid... to help Mom. Watch!"

He activated C-3PO with a flip of its power switch, and the droid sat

up at once. Anakin rushed around hurriedly, searching, then snatched up the

missing eye from his workbench and snapped it into its proper socket.

C-3PO looked at them. "How do you do? I am a protocol droid trained in

and adept at cyborg relatives...customs and humans..."

"Ooops," Anakin said quickly. "He's a little confused."

He snatched up a long-handled tool with an electronic designator and

fitted it carefully to a port in C-3PO's head, then ratcheted the handle

several turns, studying the setting as he did so. When he had it where he

wanted, he pushed a button on the handle. C-3PO jerked several times in

response. When Anakin removed the designator, the droid stood up from the

workbench and faced Padme.

"How do you do? I am See - Threepio, human-cyborg relations. How may I

serve you?"

Anakin shrugged. "I just named him the other day, but I forgot to enter

the code in his memory banks so he could tell you himself. "

Padme grinned at Anakin, delighted. "He's perfect!"

R2-D2 sidled up to them and emitted a sharp flurry of beeps and

whistles.

C-3PO glanced down curiously. "I beg your pardon... what do you mean,

I'm naked?"

R2-D2 beeped some more.

"Goodness! How embarrassing!" C-3PO glanced quickly over his skeletal

limbs. "My parts are showing? My goodness!"

Anakin pursed his lips. "Sort of But don't worry, I'll fix that soon

enough." He eased the droid back toward the workbench, glancing over his

shoulder at Padme. "When the storm is over, you can see my racer.

I'm

building a Podracer. But Watto doesn't know about it. It's a secret."

Padme smiled. "That's okay. I'm very good at keeping secrets. "

The storm continued throughout the remainder of the day, engulfing Mos

Espa, sand blown in from the desert piling up against the shuttered

buildings, forming ramps against doorways and walls, clouding the air, and

shutting out the light. Shmi Skywalker used the food capsules Qui-Gon had

given her to prepare dinner for them. As she worked on their meal and while

Padme was occupied with Anakin in the other room, Qui-Gon moved off alone

into one corner and surreptitiously contacted Obi-Wan on the comlink.

The

connection was less than perfect, but they were able to communicate

sufficiently for the Jedi Master to learn of the transmission from Naboo.

"You made the right choice, Obi-Wan," he assured his young protege,

keeping his voice low.

"The Queen is very upset," the other advised, his response crackling

through the storm.

Qui-Gon glanced over to where Shmi was standing at the cook surface,

her back turned. "That transmission was bait to establish a trace.

I'm

certain of it."

"But what if Governor Bibble is telling the truth and the Naboo are

dying?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "Either way, we're running out of time," he advised

quietly, and ended the transmission.

They sat down to eat Shmi's dinner a short while after, the storm still

howling without, an eerie backdrop of sound against the silence within.

Qui-Gon and Padme occupied the ends of the table, while Anakin, Jar Jar, and

Shmi sat at its sides. Anakin, in the way of small boys, began talking about

life as a slave, in no way embarrassed to be doing so, thinking of it only

as a fact of his life and anxious to share himself with his new friends.

Shmi, more protective of her son's station, was making an effort to help

their guests appreciate the severity of their situation."

All slaves have transmitters placed inside their bodies," Shrni was

explaining.

"I've been working on a scanner to try to locate them, but so far no

luck," Anakin said solemnly.

Shmi smiled. "Any attempt at escape..."

"...and they blow you up!" the boy finished. "Poofl"

Jar Jar had been slurping contentedly at his soup, listening with half

an ear as he devoured the very tasty broth. He overdid it on hearing this,

however, making such a loud noise that he stopped conversation altogether.

All eyes turned on him momentarily. He lowered his head in embarrassment and

pretended not to see.

Padme looked back at Shmi. "I can't believe slavery is still permitted

in the galaxy. The Republic's antislavery laws should-"

"The Republic doesn't exist out here," Shmi interrupted quickly, her

voice hard. "We must survive on our own."

There was an awkward silence as Padme looked away, not knowing what

else to say.

"Have you ever seen a Podrace?" Anakin asked, trying to ease her

discomfort.

Padme shook her head no. She glanced at Shmi, noting the sudden concern

on the woman's lined face. Jar Jar launched his tongue at a morsel of food

nestled deep in a serving bowl at the far end of the table, deftly plucking

it out, drawing it in, swallowing it, and smacking his lips in satisfaction.

A disapproving look from Qui-Gon quickly silenced him.

"They have Podracing on Malastare," the Jedi Master observed.

"Very

fast, very dangerous."

Anakin grinned. "I'm the only human who can do it!" A sharp glance from

his mother wiped the grin from his face. "Mom, what? I'm not bragging.

It's

true! Watto says he's never heard of a human doing it."

Qui-Gon studied him carefully. "You must have Jedi reflexes if you race

Pods."

Anakin smiled broadly at the compliment. Jar Jar's tongue snaked toward

the serving bowl in an effort to snare another morsel, but this time Qui-Gon

was waiting~ hand moved swiftly, and in a heartbeat he had secured the

Gungan's tongue between his thumb and forefinger. Jar Jar froze, his mouth

open, his tongue held fast, his eyes wide.

"Don't do that again," Qui-Gon advised, an edge to his soft voice.

Jar Jar tried to say something, but it came out an unintelligible

mumble. Qui-Gon released the Gungan's tongue, and it snapped back into

place. Jar Jar massaged his billed mouth ruefully.

Anakin's young face lifted to the older man's, and his voice was

hesitant. "I...I was wondering something."

Qui-Gon nodded for him to continue.

The boy cleared his throat, screwing up his courage. "You're a Jedi

Knight, aren't you?"

There was a long moment of silence as the man and the boy stared at

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

Anakin swallowed. "I saw your lightsaber. Only Jedi Knights carry that

kind of weapon."

Qui-Gon continued to stare at him, then leaned back slowly in his chair

and smiled. "Perhaps I killed a Jedi and stole it from him."

Anakin shook his head quickly. "I don't think so. No one can kill a

Jedi."

Qui-Gon's smile faded and there was a hint of sadness in his dark eyes.

"I wish that were so..."

"I had a dream I was a Jedi," the boy said quickly, anxious to talk

about it now. "I came back here and freed all the slaves. I dreamed it just

the other night, when I was out in the desert." He paused, his young face

expectant. "Have you come to free us?"

Qui-Gon Jinn shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not..." He trailed off,

hesitating.

"I think you have," the boy insisted, defiance in his eyes. "Why else

would you be here?"

Shmi was about to say something, to chastise her son for his impudence

perhaps, but Qui-Gon spoke first, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I can

see there's no fooling you, Anakin. But you mustn't let anyone know about

us. We're on our way to Coruscant, the central system in the Republic, on a

very important mission. It must be kept secret."

Anakin's eyes widened. "Coruscant? Wow! How did you end up out here in

the Outer Rim?"

"Our ship was damaged," Padme answered him. "We're stranded here until

we can repair it."

"I can help!" the boy announced quickly, anxious to be of service to

them. "I can fix anything!"

Qui-Gon smiled at his enthusiasm. "I believe you can, but our first

task, as you know from our visit to Watto's shop, is to acquire the parts we

need."

"Wit nutten ta trade," Jar Jar pointed out sourly.

Padme was looking at Qui-Gon speculatively. "These junk dealers must

have a weakness of some kind."

"Gambling," Shrni said at on~ She rose and began clearing the table of

dishes. "Everything in ""Mos Espa revolves around betting on those awful

Podraces."

Qui-Gon rose, walked to the window, and stared out through the thick,

diffuse glass at the clouds of windblown sand. "Podracing," he mused.

"Greed

can be a powerful ally, if it's used properly."

Anakin leapt to his feet. "I've built a racer!" he declared

triumphantly. His boy's face shone with pride. "It's the fastest ever!

There's a big race day after tomorrow, on Boonta Eve. You could enter my

Pod! It's all but finished-"

"Anakin, settle down!" his mother said sharply, cutting him short.

Her

eyes were bright with concern. "Watto won't let you race!"

"Watto doesn't have to know the racer is mine!" the boy replied

quickly, his mind working through the problem. He turned back to Qui-Gon.

"You could make him think it was yours! You could get him to let me pilot it

for you!"

The Jedi Master had caught the look in Shrni's eyes. He met her gaze,

silently acknowledged her consternation, and waited patiently for her

response.

"I don't want you to race, Annie," his mother said quietly. She shook

he! head to emphasize her words, weariness and concern reflected in her

eyes. "It's awful. I die every time Watto makes you do it. Every time."

Anakin bit his lip. "But, Mom, I love it!" He gestured at Qui-Gon.

"And

they need my help. They're in trouble. The prize money would more than pay

for the parts they need."

Jar Jar Binks nodded in support. "We in kinda bad goo."

Qui-Gon walked over to Anakin and looked down at him.

"Your mother is right. Let's drop the matter." He held the boy's gaze

for a moment, then turned back to his mother. "Do you know of anyone

friendly to the Republic who might be able to help us?"

Shmi stood silent and unmoving as she thought the matter through.

She

shook her head no.

"We have to help them, Mom," Anakin insisted, knowing he was right

about this, that he was meant to help the Jedi and his companions.

"Remember

what you said? You said the biggest problem in the universe is that no one

helps anyone."

Shrni sighed. "Anakin, don't-"

"But you said it, Mom." The boy refused to back down, his eyes locked

on hers.

Shrni Skywalker made no response this time, her brow fur-rowed, her

body still.

"I'm sure Qui-Gon doesn't want to put your son in danger," Padme said

suddenly, uncomfortable with the confrontation they had brought about

between mother and son, trying to ease the tension. "We will find another

way..."

Shmi looked over at the girl and shook her head slowly. "No, Annie's

right. There is no other way. I may not like it, but he can help you."

She

paused. "Maybe he was meant to help you."

She said it as if corning to a conclusion that had eluded her until

now, as if discovering a truth that, while painful, was obvious.

Anakin's face lit up. "Is that a yes?" He clapped his hands in glee.

"That is a yes!"

***

Night blanketed the vast cityscape of Coruscant, cloaking the endless

horizon of gleaming spires in deep velvet layers. Lights blazed from

windows, bright pinpricks against the black. As far as the eye could see, as

far as a being could travel the city's buildings jutted from the planet's

surface in needles of steel alloy and reflective glass. Long ago, the city

had consumed the planet with its bulk, and now there was only the city, the

center of the galaxy, the heartbeat of the Republic's rule.

A rule that some were intending to end once and for all. A rule that

some despised.

Darth Sidious stood high on a balcony overlooking Coruscant, his

concealing black robes making him appear as if he were a creature produced

by the night. He stood facing the city, his eyes directed at its lights, at

the faint movement of its air traffic, disinterested in his apprentice,

Darth Maul, who waited to one side.

His thoughts were of the Sith and of the history of their order.

The Sith had come into being almost two thousand years ago. They were a

cult given over to the dark side of the Force, embracing fully the concept

that power denied was power wasted. A rogue Jedi Knight had founded the

Sith, a singular dissident in an order of harmonious followers, a rebel who

understood from the beginning that the real power of the Force lay not in

the light, but in the dark. Failing to gain approval for his beliefs from

the Council, he had broken with the order, departing with his knowledge and

his skills, swearing in secret that he could bring down those who had

dismissed him.

He was alone at first, but others from the Jedi order who believed as

he did and who had followed him in his study of the dark side soon came

over. Others were recruited, and soon the ranks of the Sith swelled to

~

than fifty in number. Disdaining the concepts of cooperation and consensus,

relying on the belief that acquisition of power in any form lends strength

and yields control, the Sith began to build their cult in opposition to the

Jedi. Theirs was not an order created to serve; theirs was an order created

to dominate.

Their war with the Jedi was vengeful and furious and ultimately doomed.

The rogue Jedi who had founded the Sith order was its nominal leader, but

his ambition excluded any sharing of power. His disciples began to conspire

against him and each other almost from the beginning, so that the war they

instigated was as much with each other as with the Jedi.

In the end, the Sith destroyed themselves. They destroyed their leader

first, then each other. What few survived the initial bloodbath were quickly

dispatched by watchful Jedi. In a matter of only weeks, all of them died.

All but one.

Darth Maul shifted impatiently. The younger Sith had not yet learned

his Master's patience; that would come with time and training. It was

patience that had saved the Sith order in the end. It was patience that

would give them their victory now over the Jedi.

The Sith who had survived when all of his fellows had died had

understood that. He had adopted patience as a virtue when the others had

forsaken it. He had adopted cunning, stealth, and subterfuge as the

foundation of his way-old Jedi virtues the others had disdained. He stood

aside while the Sith tore at each other like kriks and were destroyed.

When

the carnage was complete, he went into hiding, biding his time, waiting for

his chance.

When it was believed all of the Sith were destroyed, he emerged from

his concealment. At first he worked alone, but he was growing old and he was

the last of his kind. Eventually, he went out in search of an apprentice.

Finding one, he trained him to be a Master in his turn, then to find his own

apprentice, and so to carry on their work. But there would only be two at

anyone time. There would be no repetition of the mistakes of the old order,

no struggle between Siths warring for power within the cult. Their common

enemy was the Jedi, not each other. It was for their war with the Jedi they

must save themselves. The Sith who reinvented the order called himself Darth

Bane. A thousand years had passed since the Sith were believed

destroyed,

and the time they had waited for had come at last. "Tatooine is sparsely

populated." His student's rough voice broke into his thoughts, and Darth

Sidious lifted his eyes to the hologram. "The Hutts rule. The Republic has

no presence. If the trace was correct, Master, I will find them quickly and

without hindrance." The yellow eyes glimmered with excitement and

anticipation in the strange mosaic of Darth Maul's face as he waited

impatiently for a response. Darth Sidious was pleased. "Move against the

Jedi first," he advised softly. "You will then have no difficulty taking the

Queen back to Naboo, where she will sign the treaty." Darth Maul exhaled

sharply. Satisfaction permeated his voice. "At last we will reveal ourselves

to the Jedi. At last we will have our revenge." "You have been well trained,

my young apprentice," Darth Sidious soothed. "The Jedi will be no match for

you. It is too late for them to stop us now. Everything is going as planned.

The Republic will soon be in my control." In the silence that followed, the

Sith Lord could feel a dark heat rise inside his chest and consume him with

a furious pleasure.

In the home of Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn stood silently at the

doorway of the boy's bedroom and watched him sleep. His mother and Padme

occupied the other bedroom, and Jar Jar Binks was curled up on the kitchen

floor in a fetal position, snoring loudly. But Qui-Gon could not sleep.

It

was this boy-this boy! There was something about him. The Jedi Master

watched the soft rise and fall of his chest as he lay locked in slumber,

unaware of Qui-Gon's presence. The boy was special, he had told Shmi

Skywalker, and she had agreed. She knew it, too. She sensed it as he did.

Anakin Skywalker was different. Qui-Gon lifted his gaze to a darkened

window. The storm had subsided, the wind abated. It was quiet without, the

night soft and welcoming in its peace. The Jedi Master thought for a moment

on his own life. He knew what they said about him at Council. He was

willful, even reckless in his choices. He was strong, but he dissipated his

strength on causes that did not merit his attention. But rules were not

created solely to govern behavior. Rules were created to provide a road map

to understanding the Force. Was it so wrong for him to bend those rules when

his conscience whispered to him that he must? The Jedi folded his arms over

his broad chest. The Force was a complex and difficult concept. The Force

was rooted in the balance of all things, and every movement within its flow

risked an upsetting of that balance. A Jedi sought to keep the balance in

place, to move in concert to its pace and will. But the Force existed on

more than one plane, and achieving mastery of its multiple passages was a

lifetime's work. Or more. He knew his own weakness. He was too close to the

life Force when he should have been more attentive to the unifying Force.

He

found himself reaching out to the creatures of the present, to those living

in the here and now. He had less regard for the past or the future, to the

creatures that had or would occupy those times and spaces. It was the life

Force that bound him, that gave him heart and mind and spirit. So it was he

empathized with Anakin Skywalker in ways that other Jedi would discourage,

finding in this boy a promise he could not ignore. Obi-Wan would see the boy

and Jar Jar in the same light-useless burdens, pointless projects,

unnecessary distractions. Obi-Wan was grounded in the need to focus on the

larger picture, on the unifying Force. He lacked Qui-Gon's intuitive nature.

He lacked his teacher's compassion for and interest in all living things.

He

did not see the same things Qui-Gon saw. Qui-Gon sighed. This was not a

criticism, only an observation. Who was to say that either of them was the

better for how they interpreted the demands of the Force? But it placed them

at odds sometimes, and more often than not it was Obi-Wan's position the

Council supported, not Qui-Gon's. It would be that way again, he knew.

Many

times. But this would not deter him from doing what he believed he must.

He

would know the truth about Anakin Skywalker. He would discover his place in

the Force, both living and unifying. He would learn who this boy was meant

to be. Minutes later, he was stretched out on the floor, asleep.

11

The new day dawned bright and clear, Tatooine's twin suns blazing down

out of a clear blue sky. The sandstorm had moved on to other regions,

sweeping the landscape clean of everything but the mountains and rocky

outcroppings of the desert and the buildings of Mos Espa. Anakin was up and

dressed before his guests stirred awake, eager to get to the shop and

advise

Watto of his plan for the upcoming Podrace. Qui-Gon warned him not to be too

eager in making his suggestion to the Toydarian, but to stay calm and let

Qui-Gon handle the bargaining. But Anakin was so excited he barely heard

what the other was saying. The Jedi Master knew it would be up to him to

employ whatever mix of cunning and diplomacy was required to achieve their

ends. Greed was the operative word in dealing with Watto, of course, the key

that would open any door the Toydarian kept locked. They walked from the

slave quarters through the city to Watto's shop, Anakin leading the way,

Qui-Gon and Padme close at his heels, Jar Jar and R2-D2 bringing up the

rear. The city was awake and bustling early, the shopkeepers and merchants

shoveling and sweeping away drifts of sand, reassembling stalls and awnings,

and righting carts and damaged fences. Eopies and rontos performed the heavy

labor where sleds and droids lacked sufficient muscle. Wagons were already

hauling fresh supplies and merchandise from warehouses and storage bins, and

the receiving bays of the spaceport were back to welcoming ships from off

planet. Qui-Gon let Anakin go on ahead to the shop as they drew near, in

order to give the boy a chance to approach Watto on the subject of the

Podraces first. With the others in tow, the Jedi Master moved to a food

stall across the way, persuaded a vendor to part with a handful of gooey

dweezels, and bided his time. When the dweezels were consumed, he moved his

group across the plaza to the front of Watto's shop. Jar Jar, already

unsettled anew by all the activity, took up a position on a crate near the

shop entry, his back to the wall, his eyes darting this way and that in

anticipation of something awful befalling him. R2-D2 moved over beside him,

beeping softly, trying to reassure him that everything was okay.

Qui-Gon told Padme to keep a wary eye on the Gungan. He didn't want Jar

Jar getting into any more trouble. He was starting into the shop when the

girl put a hand on his arm.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, doubt mirrored clearly in her

brown eyes. "Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know?" She wrinkled her

smooth brow. "The Queen would not approve."

Qui-Gon met her gaze squarely. "The Queen does not need to know."

Her eyes blazed defiantly. "Well, I don't approve."

He gave her a questioning look, then turned away wordlessly.

Inside the salvage shop, he found Watto and Anakin engaged in a heated

discussion, the Toydarian hovering centimeters from the boy's face, blue

wings a blur of motion, snout curled inward as he gestured sharply and

purposely with both hands.

"Patta go bolla!" he shouted in Huttese, chubby body jerking with the

force of his words.

The boy blinked, but held his ground. "No batta!"

"Peedunkel!" Watto flitted backward and forward, up and down,

everything moving at once.

"Banyo, banyo!" Anakin shouted.

Qui-Gon moved out of the shadowed entry and into the light where they

could see him clearly. Watto turned away from Anakin at once, toothy mouth

working, and flew into Qui-Gon's face in a frenzy of ill-concealed

excitement.

"The boy tells me you want to sponsor him in the race tomorrow!"

The

words exploded out of him. "You can't afford parts! How can you afford to

enter him in the race? Not on Republic credits, I think!"

He broke into raucous laughter, but Qui-Gon did not miss the hint of

curiosity that gleamed in his slitted eyes.

"My ship will be the entry fee," the Jedi advised bluntly.

He reached beneath his poncho and brought out a tiny holoprojector.

Clicking on the power source, he projected a hologram of the Queen's

transport into the air in front of Watto. The Toydarian flitted closer,

studying the projection carefully.

"Not bad. Not bad." The wrinkled blue proboscis bobbed. "A Nubian."

"It's in good order, except for the parts we need." Qui-Gon gave him

another moment, then flicked off the holoprojector and tucked it back

beneath his poncho.

"But what would the boy ride?" Watto demanded irritably. "He smashed up

my Pod in the last race. It will take too long to fix it for the Boonta."

Qui-Gon glanced at Anakin, who was clearly embarrassed. "Aw, it wasn't

my fault, really. Sebulba flashed me with his port vents. I actually saved

the Podracer...mostly."

Watto laughed harshly. "That he did! The boy is good, no doubts there!"

He shook his head. "But still..."

"I have acquired a Pod in a game of chance," Qui-Gon interrupted

smoothly, drawing the other's attention back to him. "The fastest ever

built."

He did not look at Anakin, but he imagined the expression on the boy's

face.

"I hope you didn't kill anyone I know for it!" Watto snapped. He burst

into a new round of laughter before bringing himself under control again.

"So, you supply the Podracer and the entry fee; I supply the boy. We split

the winnings fifty-fifty; I think."

"Fifty-fifty?" Qui-Gon brushed the suggestion aside. "If it's going to

be fifty-fifty, I suggest you front the cost of the entry. If we win, you

keep all the winnings, minus the cost of the parts I need. If we lose, you

keep my ship."

Watto was clearly caught by surprise. He thought the matter through,

hand rubbing at his snout, wings beating the air with a buzzing sound.

The

offer was too good, and he was suspicious. Out of the corner of his eye,

Qui-Gon saw Anakin glance over at him nervously.

"Either way, you win," Qui-Gon pointed out softly.

Watto pounded his fist into his open palm. "Deal!" He turned to the

boy, chuckling. "Your friend makes a foolish bargain, boy! Better teach him

what you know about how to deal for goods!"

He was still laughing as Qui-Gon left the shop.

***

The Jedi Master collected Padme, Jar Jar, and R2-D2, and left word for

Anakin to join them as soon as Watto would free him up to work on the

Podracer. Since Watto was more interested in the upcoming race than in

managing the shop, he dismissed the boy at once with instructions to make

certain the racer he would be driving was a worthy contender and not some

piece of space junk that would cause everyone to laugh at the Toydarian for

his foolish decision to enter it in the first place.

As a result, Anakin was home almost before Qui-Gon and the others,

eagerly leading them to where his project was concealed in the slave quarter

bone yards. The Podracer was shaped like a narrow half cylinder with a

rudder-skid attached to its flat bottom, a cockpit carved into its

curved-top, and steering arms attached at its sides. Sleek Radon-Ulzer

fighter engines with scoop-air stabilizers towed the Pod at the end of Steel

ton cables. The effect was something like seeing a doop bug attached to a

pair of banthas.

Working together, the company activated the antigrav lifts and guided

the Pod and its enormous engines into the courtyard in back of Anakin's

home. With Padme, Jar Jar, and R2-D2Iending assistance and encouragement,

the boy immediately went to work prepping the Pod for the upcoming race.

While Anakin and his helpers were thus engaged, Qui-Gon mounted the

back porch of the Skywalker home, glanced around to make certain he was

alone, and switched on the comlink to contact Obi-Wan. His protege answered

immediately, anxious for a report, and Qui-Gon filled him in on what was

happening.

"If all goes well, we will have our hyperdrive generator by tomorrow

afternoon and be on our way," he concluded.

Obi-Wan's silence was telling. "What if this plan fails, Master?

We

could be stuck here for a long time."

Qui-Gon Jinn looked out over the squalor of the slave quarters and the

roofs of the buildings of Mos Espa beyond, the suns a bright glare overhead.

"A ship without a power supply will not get us anywhere. We have no choice."

He switched off the comlink and tucked it away. "And there is something

about this boy," he whispered to himself, leaving the thought unfinished.

Shrni Skywalker appeared through the back door and moved over to join

him. Together they stood watching the activity in the courtyard below.

"You should be proud of your son," Qui-Gon said after a moment.

"He

gives without any thought of reward."

Shrni nodded, a smile flitting over her worn face. "He knows nothing of

greed. Only of dreams. He has..."

"Special powers."

The woman glanced at him warily. "Yes."

"He can see things before they happen," the Jedi Master continued.

"That's why he appears to have such quick reflexes. It is a Jedi trait."

Her eyes were fixed on him, and he did not miss the glimmer of hope

that shone there. "He deserves better than a slave's life," she said

quietly.

Qui-Gon kept his gaze directed out at the courtyard. "The Force is

unusually strong with him, that much is clear. Who was his father?"

There was a long pause, long enough for the Jedi Master to realize he

had asked a question she was not prepared to answer. He gave her time and

space to deal with the matter, not pressing her, not making it seem as if it

were necessary she answer at all.

"There is no father," she said finally. She shook her head slowly.

"I

carried him, I gave birth to him. I raised him. I can't tell you any more

than that."

She touched his arm, drawing his eyes to meet hers. "Can you help him?"

Qui-Gon was silent for a long time, thinking. He felt an attachment to

Anakin Skywalker he could not explain. In the back of his mind, he sensed he

was meant to do something for this boy, that it was necessary he try.

But

all Jedi were identified within the first six months of birth and given over

to their training. It was true for him, for Obi-Wan, for everyone he knew or

had heard about. There were no exceptions.

Can you help him? He did not know how that was possible.

"I don't know," he told her, keeping his voice gentle, but firm.

"I

didn't come here to free slaves. Had he been born in the Republic, we would

have identified him early, and he might have become a Jedi. He has the

way.

I'm not sure what I can do for him." She nodded in resignation, but her face

revealed, beneath the mask of her acceptance, a glimmer of hope.

As Anakin tightened the wiring on the thruster relays to the left

engine, a group of his friends appeared. The older boys were Kitster and

Seek, the younger girl was Amee, and the Rodian was Waldo Anakin broke off

his efforts to complete the wiring long enough to introduce them to Padme,

Jar Jar, and R2-D2.

"Wow, a real astromech droid!" Kitster exclaimed, whistling softly.

"How'd you get so lucky?"

Anakin shrugged. "That isn't the half of it," he declared, puffing up a

bit. "I'm entered in the Boonta tomorrow."

Kitster made a face and pushed back his mop of dark hair. "What?

With

this? "

"That piece of junk has never even been off the ground," Wald said,

nudging Amee. "This is such a joke, Annie."

"You've been working on that thing for years," Amee observed, her

small, delicate features twisting in disapproval. She shook her blond head.

"It's never going to run."

Anakin started to say something in defense of himself, then decided

against it. Better to let them think whatever they wanted for now. He would

show them.

"Come on, let's go play ball," Seek suggested, already turning away, a

hint of boredom in his voice. "Keep it up, Annie, and you're gonna be bug

squash."

Seek, Wald, and Amee hurried off, laughing back at him. But Kitster was

his best friend and knew better than to doubt Anakin when he said he was

going to do something. So Kitster stayed behind, ignoring the others.

"What

do they know?" he said quietly.

Anakin gave him a grin of appreciation. Then he noticed Jar Jar

fiddling with the left engine's energy binder plate, the power source that

locked the engines together and kept them in sync, and the grin disappeared.

"Hey! Jar Jar!" he shouted in warning. "Stay away from those energy

binders!"

The Gungan, bent close to the protruding plate, looked up guiltily.

"Who, me?"

Anakin put his hands on his hips. "If your hand gets caught in the

beam, it will go numb for hours."

Jar Jar screwed up his face, then put his hands behind his back and

stuck his billed face back down by the plate. Almost instantly an electric

current arced from the plate to his mouth, causing him to yelp and jump back

in shocked surprise. Both hands clamped over his mouth as he stood staring

at the boy in disbelief.

"Ist numm! Ist numm!" Jar Jar mumbled, his long tongue hanging loosely.

"My tongue is fat. Dats my bigo oucho." Anakin shook his head and went back

to work on the wiring.

Kitster moved close to him, watching silently, his dark face intense.

"You don't even know if this thing will run, Annie," he observed with a

frown.

Anakin didn't look up. "It will."

Qui-Gon Jinn appeared at his shoulder. "I think it's about time we

found out." He handed the boy a small, bulky cylinder. "Use this power pack.

I picked it up earlier in the day. Watto has less need for it than you."

One

corner of his mouth twitched in a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

Anakin knew the value of a power pack. How the Jedi had managed to

secure one from under Watto's nose, he had no idea and no interest in

finding out. "Yes, sir!" he beamed.

He jumped into the cockpit, fitted the power pack into its sleeve in

the control panel, and set the activator to the ON position. Then he pulled

on his old, dented racing helmet and gloves. As he did so, Jar Jar, who had

been fiddling around at the back of one of the engines, managed to get his

hand caught in the afterburner. The Gungan began leaping up and down in

terror, his mouth still numb from the shock he had received from the energy

binders, his bill flapping to no discernible purpose. Padme caught sight of

him at the last minute-his arms windmilling frantically-and yanked him free

an instant before the engines ignited.

Flame exploded from the afterburners, and a huge roar rose from the

Radon - Ulzers, building steadily in pitch until Anakin eased off on the

thrusters, then settling back into a throaty rumble. Cheers rose from the

spectators, and Anakin waved his hand in response.

On the porch of their home, Shmi Skywalker watched wordlessly, her eyes

distant and sad.

Twilight brought a blaze of gold and crimson in the wake of Tatooine's

departing suns, a splash of color that filled the horizon in a long,

graceful sweep. Night climbed after, darkening the sky, bringing out the

stars like scattered shards of crystal. In the deepening black, the land was

silent and watchful.

A gleam of bright metal caught the last of the fading suns' rays, and a

small transport sped out of the Dune Sea toward Mos Espa. Shovel-nosed and

knife-edged, its wings swept back and its vertical stabilizers crimped

inward top to bottom, it hugged the landscape as it climbed promontories and

descended valleys, searching. Dark and immutable, it had the look of a

predator, of a hunter at work.

Beyond the Dune Sea, following the failing light, the craft settled

swiftly on the broad plateau of a mesa that gave a longrange view of the

land in all directions. Wild banthas scattered with its approach, tossing

their hairy heads and massive horns, trumpeting their disapproval.

The

transport came to rest and its engines shut down. It sat there in silence,

waiting.

Then the aft hatchway slid open, metal stairs lowered, and Darth Maul

appeared. The Sith Lord had discarded his black robes and wore loose- fitting

desert garb, a collared coat belted at the waist, his lightsaber hanging

within easy reach. His stunted horns, fully exposed now with his hood

removed, formed a wicked crown above his strange red-and-black-colored face.

Ignoring the banthas, he walked to the edge of the mesa, produced a pair of

low-light electrobinoculars, and began to scan the horizon in all

directions.

Desert sand and rocks, he was thinking. Wasteland. But a city there,

and another there. And there, a third.

He took the electro binoculars from his eyes. The lights of the cities

were clearly visible against the growing dark. If there were others, they

were far on the other side of the Dune Sea where he had already been, or

beyond the horizon much farther still where he would later be required to

go.

But the Jedi, he believed, were here.

There was no expression on his mosaic face, but his yellow eyes gleamed

expectantly. Soon now. Soon.

He lifted his arm to view the control panel strapped to his forearm,

picked out the settings he wished to engage, and punched in the calculations

required to identify the enemy he was looking for. Jedi Knights would

manifest a particularly strong presence in the Force. It took only a minute.

He turned back toward his ship. Spherical probe droids floated through the

hatchway, one after another. When all were clear, they rocketed away toward

the cities he had identified.

Darth Maul watched until they were out of view, the darkness closing

quickly now. He smiled faintly. Soon.

Then he walked back to his ship to begin monitoring their response.

Darkness cloaked Mos Espa in deepening layers as night descended.

Anakin sat quietly on the balcony rail of his back porch while Qui-Gon

studied a deep cut in the boy's arm. Anakin had sustained the cut sometime

during the afternoon's prep work on the Podracer, and in typical boy

fashion, he hadn't even noticed it until now.

Anakin gave the injury a cursory glance as the Jedi prepared to clean

it, then leaned back to look up at the blanket of stars in the sky.

"Sit still, Annie," Qui-Gon instructed.

The boy barely heard him. "There are so many! Do they all have a system

of planets?"

"Most of them." Qui-Gon produced a clean piece of cloth.

"Has anyone been to all of them?"

Qui-Gon laughed. "Not likely."

Anakin nodded, still looking up. "I want to be the first one then, the

first to see them all-ouch!"

Qui-Gon wiped a smear of blood from the boy's arm, then applied some

antiseptic. "There, good as new."

"Annie! Bedtime!" Shmi called out from inside. -

Qui-Gon produced a comlink chip and wiped a sample of Anakin's blood

onto its surface. The boy leaned forward interestedly. "What are you doing? "

The Jedi barely looked up. "Checking your blood for infections."

Anakin frowned. "I've never seen-"

"Annie!" his mother called again, more insistent this time. "I'm not

going to tell you again!"

"Go on," Qui-Gon urged, gesturing toward the doorway. "You have a big

day tomorrow." He tucked the cloth into his tunic. "Good night."

Anakin hesitated, his eyes fixed on the Jedi Master, intense and

questioning. Then he turned and darted off into his home. Qui-Gon waited a

moment, making sure he was alone, then slipped the chip with the boy's blood

sample into a relay slot in the comlink and called Obi-Wan aboard the

Queen's transport.

"Yes, Master?" his protege responded: alert in spite of the lateness of

the hour.

"I'm transmitting a blood sample," Qui-Gon advised, glancing about

guardedly as he spoke. "Run a midichlorian test on it."

He sent the blood readings through the comlink to Obi-Wan and stood

waiting in the silence. He could feel the beating of his heart, quick and

excited. If he was right about this...

"Master," Obi-Wan interrupted his musings. "There must be something

wrong with the sample."

Qui-Gon took a slow, deep breath and exhaled softly. "What do the

readings say, Obi-Wan?"

"They say the midichlorian count is twenty thousand." The younger

Jedi's voice tightened. "No one has a count that high. Not even Master

Yoda."

No one. Qui-Gon stood staring out into the night, staggered by the

immensity of his discovery. Then he let his gaze wander back toward the

hovel where the boy was sleeping, and stiffened.

Shmi Skywalker stood just inside the doorway, staring at him.

Their

eyes met, and for just an instant it felt to the Jedi Master as if the

future had been revealed to him in its entirety. Then Shmi turned away,

embarrassed, and disappeared back into her home.

Qui-Gon paused a moment, then remembered the open comlink. "Good night,

Obi-Wan," he said softly, and clicked the transmitter off.

Midnight approached. Anakin Skywalker, unable to sleep, had slipped out

of his bed and gone down into the backyard to complete a final check of the

racer, of its controls, its wiring, its relays, its power source-everything

he could think of. Now he stood staring at it, trying. to determine what he

might have missed, what he might have overlooked. He could afford no

mistakes. He must make certain he had done all that he could.

So that he would win tomorrow's race.

Because he must.

He must.

He watched R2-D2 scuttle around the racer, applying paint in broad

strokes to its polished metal body, aided by a light projecting from a

receptacle mounted over his visual sensors and a steady stream of advice

from C-3PO. The boy had activated the latter earlier on the advice of Padme.

Many hands make light work, she had intoned solemnly, then grinned. C- 3PO

wasn't much with his hands, but his vocoder was certainly tireless. In any

case, R2-D2 seemed to like having him around, exchanging beeps and chirps

with his protocol counterpart as he scuttled about the racer. The little

astromech droid worked tirelessly, cheerfully, and willingly.

Nothing

perturbed him. Anakin envied him. Droids were either well put together or

they weren't. Unlike humans, they didn't respond to weariness or

disappointment or fear...

He chased the thought away quickly and looked up at the starry sky.

After a moment, he sat down, his back against a crate of old parts, his

goggles and racing helmet at his side. Idly, he fingered the japor carving

in his pocket, the one he was working on for Padme. His thoughts drifted.

He

couldn't explain it exactly, but he knew that tomorrow would change his

life. That strange ability to see what others did not, that sometimes gave

him insights into what would happen, told him so. His future was coming up

on him in a rush, he sensed. It was closing fast, giving him no time to

consider, ascending with the certainty of a sunrise.

What would it bring him? The question teased at the edges of his

consciousness, refusing to show itself. Change, but in what form? Qui- Gon

and his companions were the bringers of that change, but he did not think

even the Jedi Knight knew for certain what the end result would be.

Maybe the freedom he had dreamed about for himself and his mother, he

thought hopefully. Maybe an escape to a new life for both of them.

Anything

was possible if he won the Boonta. Anything at all.

That thought was still foremost in his cluttered, weary mind when his

eyes closed and he fell asleep.

12

Anakin Skywalker dreamed that night, and in his dream he was of a

different, but indeterminate age. He was young still, though not so young as

now, but old, too. He was cut from stone, and his thoughts were emblazoned

with a vision so frightening he could not bring himself to consider it

fully, only to leave it just out of reach, simmering over a fire of ambition

and hope. He was in a different place and time, in a world he did not

recognize, in a landscape he had never seen. It was vague and shadowy in his

dream, all flat and rugged at once, changing with the swiftness of a mirage

born out of Tatooine's desert flats.

The dream shimmered, and voices reached out to him, soft and distant.

He turned toward them, away from a wave of dark movement that suddenly

appeared before him, away from the sleep that gave his dream life.

"I hope you're about finished," he heard Padme say.

But Padme was at the head of the dark wave of his dream, and the wave

was an army, marching toward him...

R2-D2 whistled and beeped, and C-3PO chimed in with hasty assurances,

saying everything was done, all was in readiness, and he stirred again.

A hand touched his cheek, brushing it softly, and the dream faded and

was gone. Anakin blinked awake, rubbing at his eyes, yawning and turning

over on his side. He was no longer stretched out by the parts crate where he

had fallen asleep the night before, but was back in his own bed.

The hand lifted away from his cheek, and Anakin stared up at Padme, at

a face he found so beautiful it brought a tightness to his throat. Yet he

stared at her in confusion, for she had been the central figure in his

dream, different from now, older, sadder... and something more.

"You were in my dream," he said, swallowing hard to get the words out.

"You were leading a huge army into battle."

The girl stared at him in wonder, then smiled. "I hope not. I hate

fighting." Her voice was merry and light, dismissive in a way that bothered

him. "Your mother wants you to get up now. We have to leave soon."

Anakin climbed to his feet, fully awake. He walked to the back door and

stood looking out at the anthill complex of the slave quarters, at the

bustle of slaves going about their daily work, at the clear, bright early

morning sky that promised good weather for the Boonta Eve race. The Podracer

hung level before him on its antigrav lifts, freshly painted and gleaming in

the new day's sunlight. R2-D2 bustled about with a brush and can of paint,

completing the final detailing of the craft. C-3PO, still missing most of

his outer skin, his working parts clearly visible, followed along, pointing

out missed patches, giving unsolicited opinions and bits of advice.

The sharp wheeze of an eopie brought him around to find Kitster riding

toward them on the first of two of the beasts he had commandeered to help

haul the Podracer to the arena. Kitster's dark face was aglow with

expectation, and he waved eagerly at Anakin as he approached.

Anakin waved back, shouting, "Hook 'em up, Kitster!" He turned back to

Padme. "Where's Qui-Gon?"

The girl gestured. "He left with Jar Jar for the arena. They've gone to

find Watto."

Anakin sprinted to his bedroom to wash and dress.

Qui-Gon Jinn strolled through the main hangar of the Mos Espa Podracer

arena, glancing at the activity about him with seemingly casual interest.

The hangar was a cavernous building that housed Podracers and equipment year

round and served as a staging area for vehicles and crews on race days.

A

handful of racers were already in place on the service pads, dozens of

aliens who had found their way to Tatooine from every corner of the galaxy

crawling all over the Pods and engines as pit bosses and pilots shouted

instructions. The clash and shriek of metal on metal. echoed in an

earsplitting din through the hangar's vast chamber, forcing conversations to

be held at something approaching a shout.

Jar Jar hugged one shoulder of the Jedi Master while Watto buzzed close

by the other. The former was his normal fretful, nervous self, eyes rolling

on their stalks, head twisting this way and that with such frantic concern

it seemed certain it must soon twist off altogether. Watto flew with blatant

disregard for everything but his own conversation, which rambled on and on,

covering the same points endlessly-

"So it must be understood clearly that our bargain is sealed,

outlander," he repeated for at least the third time in the last ten minutes.

His blue-snouted head bobbed with emphasis. "I'll want to see your spaceship

the moment the race is over."

He made no bones about the fact that he believed that gaining lawful

possession of the Naboo transport was only a matter of time. He had not once

since Qui-Gon had found him at the betting booths suggested that things

might work out otherwise.

The Jedi Master demurred with a shrug. "Patience, my blue friend.

You'll have your winnings before the suns set, and my companions and I will

be far away from here."

"Not if your ship belongs to me, I think!" Watto snorted, and gave a

satisfied laugh. Just as quickly, his sharp eyes fixed on the Jedi. "I warn

you, no funny business!"

Qui-Gon kept walking, his gaze directed elsewhere, carefully baiting

the hook he had set for the Toydarian. "You don't think Anakin will win?"

Watto flew around in front of him and brought them all to a stop.

Wings

beating furiously, he motioned to a bright orange racer parked close at

hand, its engines modified so that when the energy binders were activated

and the engines joined, they formed a distinctive X-shape. Sitting to one

side of the racer was the Dug who had attacked Jar Jar two days earlier,

Sebulba, his wicked eyes fixed on them, his slender limbs drawn up in a

vaguely menacing gesture. A pair of lithesome Twi'leks worked diligently

massaging the Dug's neck and shoulders. The Twi'leks were humanoid aliens

from the planet Ryloth; they had pointed teeth, smooth blue skin, and twin

tentacles that draped gracefully from their hairless heads down their silken

backs. Their red eyes lifted to Qui-Gon momentarily, interest flickering in

their depths, then returned quickly to their master.

Watto snorted. "Don't get me wrong," he announced, shaking his head in

an odd cocking motion. "I have great faith in the boy. He's a credit to your

species." His snaggletoothed mouth tightened. "But Sebulba there is going to

win, I think."

Qui-Gon pretended to study the Dug carefully. "Why?"

"Because he always wins!" The Toydarian broke into a fit of laughter,

consumed by his own cleverness. "I'm betting heavily on Sebulba!"

"I'll take that bet," Qui-Gon said at once.

Watto stopped laughing instantly, jerking away as if scalded by hot

oil. "What?" He shook his head in astonishment. "What do you mean?"

Qui-Gon advanced a step, backing the Toydarian away. "I'll wager my new

racing Pod against..." He trailed off thoughtfully, letting Watto hang.

"Against, say, the boy and his mother." Watto was aghast. "A Pod for slaves!

I don't think so!" The blue wings were a blur as he flitted this way and

that, head cocked. "Well, perhaps. Just one. The mother, maybe. The boy

isn't for sale."

Qui-Gon frowned. "The boy is small. He can't be worth much. "

Watto shook his head decisively.

"For the fastest Pod ever built?"

Watto shook his head again.

"Both, or no bet."

They were standing near the front entry of the hangar, and the noise of

the crew work had lessened. Beyond, the arena stands rose against the desert

sky, a vast, curved complex complete with boxes for the Hutts, a race

announcer's booth, course monitoring equipment, and food stands. Already the

stands were beginning to fill, the population of Mos Espa turning out in

full force for the event, shops and stalls closed, the city on holiday.

Bright streamers and banners flew, and approaching racers flamed with the

reflection of sunlight and polish.

Qui-Gon caught sight of Anakin appearing through the crowds, riding an

eopie with Padme up behind him, towing one of the massive Radon-Ulzer

engines. His friend Kitster followed on a second eopie, towing the other

engine. The eopies were gangly, long-snouted pack animals with tough,

leathery skin and short fur particularly well-suited to resisting the

Tatooine desert heat. R2-D2 and C-3PO trailed the little procession with the

Pod and Shmi. The Jedi Master deliberately turned to watch their approach,

drawing Watto's gaze after his own. The Toydarian's eyes glittered at the

sight of the boy and the racer.

He looked back at Qui-Gon and gave an anxious snort. "No Pod's worth

two slaves...not by a long shot! One slave or nothing! "

Qui-Gon folded his arms over his chest. "The boy, then." Watto huffed

and shook his head. He jerked with the tension his deliberation was

generating inside his pudgy blue body. "No, no... "

Then abruptly he reached inside his pocket and produced a small cube,

which he tossed from one hand to the other as if it were too hot to hold.

"We'll let fate decide. Blue, it's the boy. Red, it's the mother."

Watto cast the cube to the hangar floor. Ashe did, Qui-Gon made a

small, surreptitious gesture with one hand, calling on his Jedi power to

produce a small inflection in the Force.

The cube bounced, rolled, settled, blue side facing up. Watto threw up

his hands angrily, his eyes turning narrow and sharp.

"You won the toss, outlander!" he sneered in dismissal. "But you won't

win the race, so it makes little difference, I think."

"We'll see," Qui-Gon replied calmly.

Anakin and the others reached them, entering the hangar with the Pod

and engines. Watto wheeled away from Qui-Gon in a huff, pausing long enough

to snap irritably at the boy.

"Better stop your friend's betting," he declared with an angry snort,

"or I'll end up owning him, too!"

One of the eopies sniffed expectantly at him, and he swore at the beast

in Huttese with such ferocity that it backed away. His wings beating madly,

Watto gave Qui-Gon a withering glance and flew off into the hangar shadows.

"What did he mean by that?" Anakin asked as he slowed the eopie beside

Qui - Gon, glancing after the retreating Toydarian. Qui-Gon shrugged.

"I'll

tell you later."

Kitster pulled to a stop beside Anakin, his face alight with excitement

as he looked around. "This is so wizard! I'm sure you'll do it this time,

Annie!"

Padme's gaze shifted from one to the other. "Do what?" she asked

suspiciously.

Kitster beamed. "Finish the race, of course!"

The girl paled. Her eyes burned into Anakin. "You've never even

finished a race?" she demanded incredulously.

The boy blushed. "Well...not exactly." His mouth tightened with

determination. "But Kitster's right. I will this time."

Qui-Gon took the eopie's reins in his hand and patted the boy's leg.

"Of course, you will," he agreed.

From atop the eopie, Padme Naberrie just stared at him wordlessly.

***

In the center of Mos Espa the crowds were beginning to thin as the

population gravitated in increasing numbers toward the pod racer arena at

the edge of the spaceport. Most of the shops and stalls were already closed,

and the rest were in the process of doing so. Owners and vendors were

completing sales and glancing anxiously in the direction of the traffic's

steady flow. Amid the confusion and bustle, a Sith probe droid slowly

floated along, mechanical eye traveling from shop to shop, from face to

face, searching.

Over a hundred thousand beings had filled the Podracer arena by

midmorning, jamming into the grandstand seats, crowding onto the broad

viewing platforms, filling the available space. The arena became a vast sea

of color and movement and sound in the emptiness of the surrounding desert.

Flags and banners bearing the insignia of the racers and their sponsors

waved over the assemblage, signifying favorites and creating impromptu

cheering sections. Bands played in support of some racers, and isolated

horns and drums beat in wild appreciation for all. Vendors walked the

aisles, carrying food and drink from canopied stands below to sell to the

crowd. Everywhere, excitement and anticipation was building.

Then a roar erupted as the racers began to emerge from the main hangar

on the far side of the start line. One by one the Podracers hove into view,

some towed by eopies, some by hand, some by repulsorsled, all part of a long

procession of pilots, pit crews, and hangers-on. Standard bearers, each

carrying a flag that identified the pilot and sponsor, marched along,

forming a colorful line in front of the assembly of Podracers. Overhead, the

twin suns of Tatooine shone down with a bright, hungry glare.

As the racers moved onto the track in front of the arena stands, a

flurry of movement in the royal box signaled the arrival of Jabba the Hutt

and Gardulla, his female friend. Slithering into the cooled interior of the

box, the two Hutts oozed their way along the flooring to their designated

places amid the bright silks that draped the rough stone. Jabba came

foremost, proceeding directly to the arched overlook where he could be seen

by the people of Mos Espa. Lifting his pudgy arm in greeting, he basked in

the crowd's appreciative roar. Gardulla muttered her approval, nodding her

neckless head on the end of a thick, shapeless body, slitted eyes

glittering. A coterie of humans and aliens filed in behind the two Hutts,

guests of Mos Espa's rulers on race day, a coveted designation. A line of

slave girls of varying species came last, chained together, there for the

amusement of those who had chosen freely to attend. Below, the Podracer

pilots formed a line facing the royal box and on command bowed deeply in

recognition of and to pay homage to their benefactor. "Chowbaso! "

Jabba

rumbled, his deep voice echoing through the sound enhancers and out across

the flats. "Tam ka chee Boonta rulee ya, kee maid ahdrudda du wundee!

Welcome!" The crowd roared some more, arms and flags waving madly.

Horns

sounded as Jabba began his introduction of the racers. "Kubba tee.

Sebulba

tuta Pixelito!" The Dug, standing immediately next to Anakin, rose on his

back legs and waved to the stands. A band played wildly in support, and

Sebulba's fans and anxious bettors depending on the odds that favored the

Dug cheered and shouted in response. One by one, Jabba recognized the

Podracer pilots. Gasgano. Boles Roor. Ben Quadinaros. Aldar Beedd.

Ody

Mandrell. Xelbree. Mars Guo. Clegg Holdfast. Bozzie Baranta. Wan Sandage.

Anakin listened to the names, shifting anxiously, eager to begin. A glance

over his shoulder revealed Kitster at work attaching the Radon-Ulzers to his

Pod with the Steelton cables, checking the fastenings with sharp tugs.

"...Mawhonic tuta Hok," Jabba boomed. "Teemto Pagalies tuta Moonus

Mandel. Anakin Skywalker tuta Tatooine..."

Applause burst from the crowd, though it was not as enthusiastic as it

had been for Sebulba or Gasgano or several of the others. Anakin waved in

response, eyes traveling over the thousands gathered, his mind already out

in the flats.

When he turned to walk to his racer, his mother was standing in front

of him. Her worn face was calm and determined as she bent down to give him a

hug and a kiss. Her eyes were steady as she backed him off, her hands

gripping his shoulders, and she could not quite mask the worry reflected

there.

"Be safe, Annie," she told him.

He nodded, swallowing. "I will, Mom. I promise."

She smiled, warm and reassuring, and moved away. Anakin continued on,

watching Kitster and Jar Jar unhitch the eopies so that Kitster could lead

them away. R2-D2 rolled up to Anakin and beeped with approval and

reassurance. C-3PO solemnly warned against the dangers of driving too fast

and wished his master well. All was ready.

Jar Jar patted the boy on the back, his billed face a mask of worry and

consternation. "Tis very loony, Annie. May da Guds be kind, me friend."

Out of the corner of his eye Anakin saw Sebulba wander over from his

own racer and begin examining the boy's. Hitching along on his spindly legs,

he worked his way around the Radon-Ulzers with undisguised interest.

Stopping finally at the left engine, he reached up suddenly and banged hard

on a stabilizer, glancing around quickly to see if anyone had noticed.

Padme appeared and bent down to kiss Anakin's cheek. Her dark eyes were

intense. "You carry all our hopes," she said quietly.

Anakin's lower lip jutted out. "I won't let you down."

She gave him a long stare, then moved away. As she did so, Sebulba

sidled up to him, his wizened, whiskery face angling close.

"You won't walk away from this one, slave scum," he wheezed softly,

grinning. "You're bantha poodoo."

Anakin stood his ground, giving the Dug a stony look. "Don't count on

it, slime face."

Qui-Gon was approaching, and Sebulba backed away toward his own racer,

malevolence mirrored in his flat stare. Horns blared, and a new roar rose

from the crowd. Jabba the Hutt oozed to the lip of the royal box, his thick

arms lifting.

"Kaa bazza kundee da tam hdrudda!" he growled. "Let the challenge

begin!"

The roar of the crowd began to build even further. Qui-Gon helped

Anakin climb into his Pod. The boy settled himself in place in the seat,

securing his straps, fitting his old, battered racing helmet over his head

and bringing down his goggles.

"Are you all set, Annie?" the Jedi Master asked calmly. The boy nodded,

eyes intense, steady. Qui-Gon held his gaze. "Remember, concentrate on the

moment. Feel, don't think. Trust your instincts."

He put a hand on the boy's shoulder and smiled. "May the Force be with

you, Annie."

Then he backed away, and Anakin Skywalker was alone.

***

Qui-Gon moved quickly through the crowd to the viewing platform where

Shmi, Padme, and Jar Jar waited. He glanced back only once at Anakin and

found the boy calmly fitting his goggles in place. The Jedi Master nodded to

himself. The boy would do all right. He mounted the viewing platform with

Jar Jar and the women just as it began to lift into position for the race.

Shmi gave him a worried, questioning look. "He's fine," Qui-Gon assured her,

touching her shoulder. Padme shook her head doubtfully. "You Jedi are far

too reckless," she said quietly. "The Queen-" "The Queen trusts my judgment,

young handmaiden," Qui-Gon interrupted smoothly, directing his words only to

her. "Perhaps you should, too. " She glared at him. "You assume too much."

The viewing platform locked into place, and all eyes turned toward the

racers. Energy binders were engaged, powerful electromagnetic currents

arcing between coaxial plates, locking the twin engines of each Podracer

together as a single unit. Now the engines themselves began to turn over,

their booming coughs and rumbles mingling with and then overwhelming the

roar of the crowd. Flag bearers and pit crews moved hastily aside, clearing

the start line beneath the arch that marked the beginning and end of the

race. Overhead, a red light held the racers in place. Anticipating the

green, the pilots gunned their engines, the massive casings shaking with the

force of the power they generated, the cables that bound them to the Pods

and their drivers straining to break free. Standing next to Qui-Gon, Jar Jar

Binks covered his eyes in dismay. "Me no watch. Dis gonna be messy!"

Though he could not bring himself to say so, the Jedi Master was

inclined to agree. Steady, Anakin Skywalker, he thought to himself.

Concentrate.

Then the light over the starting line flashed bright green, and the

race was under way.

13

When the starting light turned green, Anakin Skywalker jammed the twin

thruster bars to the extreme forward position, sending maximum power to the

Radon-Ulzers. The big rocket engines bucked, roared like a caged beast, and

promptly died.

The boy froze. All around him, racers shot from the start in a

cacophony of sound and a flashing of bright metal. Sand fountained in the

wake of their passing, clouding the air in a whirlwind of grit. In seconds,

the boy was alone, save for Ben Quadinaros's Quadra-Pod, which sat stalled

at the starting line in mirror image of his own.

Anakin's mind raced desperately. He'd fed in too much fuel from a dead

start. The reworked engines couldn't handle all that power at once if the

racer wasn't already moving. He yanked back on the thruster bars, returning

them to the neutral position. Ratcheting back the switches to the feeder

dump, he cleared the fules, then sealed them anew. Taking a deep breath, he

pressed the ignition buttons. The starters cranked over and caught, and the

big Radon-Ulzers roared to life with a booming cough. He fed in fuel more

cautiously this time, impatience flooding through him, then slid the

thruster bars forward smoothly. The engines shot ahead, dragging the Pod and

the boy after them, exploding out of the start.

Anakin gave chase with single-minded determination, not bothering with

anything but the dots in the distance that marked the location of the other

racers. He tore across the flats, the whine of the Pod's engines growing

steadily sharper, the land beneath fading to a wash of heat and light.

The

course was flat and open in the beginning, and he pushed the thruster bars

forward some more. He was accelerating so quickly that everything about him

turned swiftly to a sun-drenched blur.

Ahead, the first set of rock formations rose up against the horizon.

Anakin could see the other Podracers now, bright metal shapes whipping

across the flats, engines throwing off fire and smoke. He closed on them

quickly, the Radon - Ulzers screaming. In an open stretch, he knew, there

were no other engines that could match them.

A flush of white-hot excitement burned through him as he caught the

trailing Podracers.

He hauled back on the thruster bars as he came up on them, giving

himself space to maneuver. He went by two as if they were standing still,

angling his way left and then right, threading the needle of space they had

left between them. When he was clear, he fed power to the engines anew, and

the g-force slammed him back against his padded seat. He caught multilimbed

Gasgano next. Easing up to the Troiken's snub-nosed Podracer, he got ready

to pass. Arch Canyon loomed ahead, and he wanted to be clear of the others

when he navigated through the ravine. Maneuvering cautiously, he prepared to

overtake on the right. But Gasgano saw him, and quickly moved to cut him

off. Anakin waited, then angled left for another try. Again, Gasgano cut him

off. Back and forth they slid above the desert floor like a krayt dragon

chasing a womp rat.

A cliff drop off a low mesa appeared as a ragged line on the horizon.

Anakin slowed, giving Gasgano the impression he was preparing for a drop

shift. The wiry pilot, glancing back quickly to make certain where the boy

was, held his position until he reached the mesa edge, then took the drop

first. The moment he did so, Anakin jammed the thruster bars all the way

forward, and his racer accelerated with such speed that it rocketed right

over the top of Gasgano before the other could do anything to prevent it.

The dark crease of the canyon loomed ahead, and Anakin threaded the eye

of its needle opening with a seamstress's skill, racing into the cool

shadows beyond. The Radon - Ulzers hummed anxiously, the energy binders

keeping them in sync, the Steelton cables drawing on the racing Pod with

just the right amount of give through the wicked turns. Anakin worked the

thruster bars with small, precise movements, envisioning the course in his

mind-each twist, each deviation, each rise and drop. Everything was clear

and certain to him. Everything was revealed.

He shot through the canyon and back out onto the open flats.

Ahead,

beyond a dozen others, Mawhonic and Sebulba fought for the lead. The Dug's

distinctive X-shaped engines lifted and rose, maneuvering for position.

But

Mawhonic's slender racer was slowly gliding away.

Then Sebulba accelerated and swung violently left, careening toward the

other pilot. Mawhonic reacted instinctively, swinging left as well -

and

directly into a massive rock formation. Mawhonic disappeared in a huge ball

of flame and black smoke.

Next it was Xelbree challenging, trying to sneak past Sebulba from

above, much as Anakin had done with Gasgano. But the Dug sensed his presence

and rose to block his passage. Xelbree slid left, drawing alongside, holding

fast. Sebulba seemed to lose ground, to give way slightly. But when Xelbree

was next to him, the Dug triggered a side vent in his left exhaust.

Fire

spewed laterally into Xelbree's engine, cutting apart the metal housing as

if it were made of flimsiplast. Xelbree tried frantically to move away, but

he was too slow. Fuel caught and ignited. The damaged engine exploded, and

the remaining engine and its Pod flew off into a cliff face and shattered.

Without slowing, Sebulba sped away from the wreckage, alone at the head

of the pack.

In the arena stands and from viewing platforms scattered throughout the

course, the crowd watched the progress of the race on handheld viewscreens

as pictures of the racers were transmitted from droid observation holocams.

From a monitoring tower, a two-headed announcer who bantered incessantly

with himself reported on the leaders. Qui-Gon studied a screen with Padme

and Shmi, but there was neither mention nor sight of Anakin. The announcer's

twin voices rose and fell in measured cadence, filling the air with their

inflection, building in pitch to stir the already frenzied crowd.

Qui-Gon stared out into the flats, searching for movement. On his

right, Jar Jar bickered with a skinny, sour-faced alien named Fanta, trying

to peer over his shoulder, besieging him with questions, trying to make

friends in the mistaken belief that because they looked vaguely alike, the

Poldt would reciprocate his overtures. It wasn't working out. Fanta wanted

nothing to do with Jar Jar and kept his back turned to the Gungan,

deliberately hiding the screen from view. Jar Jar was growing impatient.

Qui-Gon shifted his gaze. In the crew pits, R2-D2, C-3PO, and Kitster

waited in solitary isolation.

In a private box somewhat in back of and lower than Jabba 's, Watto

laughed and joked with his friends. The Toydarian flitted this way and that,

catching glimpses of the race on various viewscreens, rubbing his hands

together anxiously. He caught sight of Qui-Gon and gestured rudely, his

meaning clear.

Below, at the start line, Ben Quadinaros still struggled to ignite the

engines of his Quadra-Pod.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and blocked everything away, sounds and

movements alike, becoming one with the Force, disappearing into its flow,

searching for Anakin. He stayed lost within himself as the roar of the crowd

lifted anew, and the sound of rocket engines rose out of the distance.

At

the edge of the horizon, a clump of dark specks hove into view.

On the starting line, Ben Quadinaros finally managed to start the

engines of his racer, all four bulbous monsters roaring to life, vibrating

wildly within their casings. Engines and Pod lurched as Quadinaros locked in

the thrusters. But in the next instant the energy binders collapsed under

the strain, the connecting cables snapped, and the engines shot off in four

separate directions, exploding against stone walls, rock formations, and low

dune banks. The crowd gasped in shock, shielding eyes and covering ears as

the Pod and Ben Quadinaros collapsed to the racetrack in a useless heap.

Almost simultaneously Sebulba's racer screamed past the arena, shooting

under the finish arch, and rocketing off on the start of the second lap.

Two

other racers followed, their engines roaring loudly as they whipped past,

their colorful metal bodies agleam in the midday suns.

There was no sign of Anakin.

Qui-Gon kept his eyes closed, searching within his consciousness.

Beside him, Shmi and Padme exchanged worried glances. Jar Jar still hung on

Fanta, pounding him on the back now in excitement as the other grimaced and

tried to move away.

Three more racers tore past, the sound of their engines dying into

silence as they faded from view. A fourth, Ody Mandrell, turned into the

pits, the engines of his Pod shaking and smoking as he screeched to a stop.

Pit droids rushed to service the racer, swarming over the engines. Ody stood

up in the cockpit, a big, squat, reptilian Er'Kit, arms gesturing. But when

the engines ignited a new, DUM-4, a pit droid, was standing at the left

intake, and the engine sucked it inside, chewed it up, and spit it out the

exhaust in a mangled heap.

The crowd went back to their viewscreens, intent on the race.

Then R2-D2, standing with Kitster and C-3PO at the edge of their

station, gave an excited beep.

Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open. "Here he comes!" he exclaimed quickly.

Anakin Skywalker exploded out of the midday glare, the big Radon-Ulzers

howling in fury.

Amid the cheers and shouts of his companions and the crowd, Qui-Gon

Jinn just smiled. Anakin had begun to overtake the pack.

At the beginning of the second lap, Anakin was in sixth place. As the

race progressed, he was slowly disappearing into the workings of his racer,

becoming one with its engines, feeling the strain and tug on each rivet and

screw. Wind whipped by him in a screaming rush, locking him away in its

white noise. There was only himself and the machine, all speed and response.

It was the way racing affected him, melding his body with the Pod and

engines until he was a part of both. Moment by moment, the symbiosis

deepened, joining them, giving him insights and understandings that

transcended his senses and knowledge, projecting him past the present and

into a place others could not reach.

Approaching Arch Canyon, he bore down on the leaders, young face

intense. Skimming the flats, he whipped past Aldar Beedo and sideslipped

Clegg Holdfast. To one side, a fastclosing Ody Mandrell banked too hard over

a sandy rise and caught his engine in the sand. Ody's racer cartwheeled in

a

spectacular twisting of engines and Pod and exploded apart.

Anakin was only four racers back from Sebulba and could see the Dug's

craft clearly in the distance.

Everything happened quickly after that.

The racers whipped tough Arch Canyon and out the other side in a ragged

line, with Anakin narrowing the gap between himself and the others.

Tusken

Raiders, hiding in the rocks of the cliffs that formed the corner of Tusken

Turn, got lucky and hit Teemto Pagalies. Teemto's racer simply exploded and

was gone. Anakin flew through the vaporized wreckage in pursuit of the

others. He passed Elan Mak and Habba Kee in a rush. Ahead, Mars Guo was

closing on Sebulba, wary of the Dug, keeping down and away, trying to sneak

past. Anakin drew nearer to both, leapfrogging sand dunes in a long

depression, easing slowly up on Mars Guo.

Suddenly Sebulba reached out of his Pod's cockpit and released a ragged

bit of metal directly into Mars Guo's left engine intake. Metal clashed

violently against metal, and the damaged engine began to spew smoke and

fire. Mars tried to hold the machine steady, but the failing engine bucked

and lost power, causing the Pod to veer sharply into Anakin. The racers

collided in a shriek of metal, and a leading edge of Mars Guo's vertical

stabilizer snagged the Steelton line to Anakin's left engine and released

the binding.

Instantly Anakin's Pod began to swing violently at the end of its

single remaining line, whipsawing back and forth. The Radon -

Ulzers

continued to act in concert, locked together by the energy binders, but the

racer was out of control. Anakin worked the stabilizer pedals with his feet,

fighting to hold the Pod steady as it swung like a pendulum. The unhooked

line snapped viciously in the wake of the engine's exhaust, threatening to

tangle or snag on an outcropping and drag the racer down. Anakin groped

along the floor of his cockpit, searching for the magnetic retriever.

When

he found it, he flicked on the power button and extended the retriever out

to the left side, trying to make contact with the loose line. The effort

forced him to pull back on the thruster bars to cut power, and he fell

behind Sebulba once more. Elan Mak, Habba Kee, and now Obitoki as well swept

by him, giving chase to the Dug.

Anakin glanced frantically over his shoulder. The bulk of the pack was

closing on him once more.

After a dozen tries, he finally focused his concentration sufficiently

to snag the loose engine line with the retriever and maneuver it back to its

hook. Sweat and grit coated his face, and his jacket sleeve was ripped.

Casting down the retriever, he jammed the thruster bars forward once more.

Stabilized at the ends of the Steelton lines, the Pod held steady now as the

Radon-Ulzers bucked, and the racer accelerated after the leaders.

Anakin caught Elan Mak first and slid around him easily. He was closing

on Habba Kee when Obitoki tried to pass Sebulba.

The Dug waited until his rival had pulled alongside, then used the same

tactic he had employed against Xelbree. Opening a small side vent in the

left exhaust, he sent a gush of fire into the housing of Obitoki's right

engine. Fuel in the lines caught fire and exploded, and Obitoki's racer

dived nose first into the desert, sending a wide spray of grit everywhere.

Habba Kee flew into it just ahead of Anakin, low and tight to the

ground. Momentarily blinded, he swerved the wrong way and caught a piece of

one of Obitoki's engines where it jutted from the sand. Engines and Pod

tangled and crashed in wild explosion. Anakin followed Habba Kee into the

smoke and grit, blinded as well. A piece of steaming metal flew at him out

of the haze, careening off his right engine housing and barely missing his

head. But the boy was seeing with more than his eyes, sensing with his mind,

calm and steady within himself. He could feel the danger waiting, and he

worked the thruster bars smoothly, sliding past the wreckage.

Then he was in the clear again and bearing down on Sebulba.

He caught the Dug as they screamed past the arena and under the finish

arch for the start of the third and final lap.

In his mind, Anakin could see Qui-Gon and Jar Jar watching him;

Kitster, standing in the crew pits, his friend cheering wildly, and R2-D2

and C-3PO, the former beeping, the latter nattering back at him in response;

Padme, her beautiful face framed with worry; and his mother, her eyes filled

with terror. He could see them all, as if he were standing among them,

standing outside himself, watching the race...

He blocked their faces away, banished the images from his thoughts, and

focused everything on Sebulba.

They were speeding out of Arch Canyon when Sebulba decided to put an

end to Anakin once and for all. The Dug knew where all the droid observation

cams were situated. He knew the angles of placement and how to avoid giving

himself away. Swinging his racer close to Anakin's, he opened the side vent

on his exhaust and tried to scorch the boy's engine housing as he had done

with Xelbree and Obitoki. But Anakin had fallen victim to that

particular

trick once before and was looking for it this time. He shifted just above

the cutting flame and out of reach. When Sebulba tried to follow, Anakin

dropped down again-but too far, momentarily losing control. His racer veered

from the course right into a line of warning signs, sending them flying in

all directions. Desperate to recover, he lifted the nose of his craft

skyward, jammed his thruster bars forward, and accelerated. The Radon- Ulzers

boomed, his racer gave a frightening lurch, and he leapfrogged right over

Sebulba to take the lead.

Down through the first set of caves and past Tusken Turn the racers

tore, Anakin leading, Sebulba right on his tail. At speeds too great for

maintaining proper control, the antagonists banked and angled as if safety

were of no importance at all.

And finally burst into the clear once more.

Again, Sebulba tried to regain the lead, pushing for an opening.

Anakin

held him off, but then one of the horizontal stabilizers on the left engine

began to shudder violently. A momentary vision of Sebulba hammering on his

stabilizer just before the start of the race flashed through Anakin's mind.

He eased off on the thruster bars, jettisoned the stabilizer, and switched

to an auxiliary mount. In the process, he was forced to give way.

Sebulba

raced past him to take command of the lead once more.

Time and space were running out on Anakin Skywalker. He shoved the

thruster bars forward and went after the Dug. Sebulba saw him coming and

fishtailed his Pod back and forth in front of the boy to keep him from

passing. Over the courseway they sped, jockeying for position. Anakin tried

everything he knew, but Sebulba was a seasoned veteran and was able to

counter each attempt. Metta Drop flew past as the racers roared out of the

dune hills and onto the final stretch of flats.

Finally Anakin shifted left, then right. But this time when Sebulba

moved to block him, Anakin faked a third shift, drawing the Dug left again.

The instant Sebulba began his blocking move, Anakin jerked his racer hard to

the right and nosed in beside the Dug.

Down the flat, open final stretch of the course the Podracers tore,

side by side, the arena stands and warding statuary beginning to take shape

ahead. Sebulba screamed in frustration and deliberately swerved his Pod into

Anakin's. Infuriated by the boy's dogged persistence, he slammed into him,

once, twice. But on the third strike, their steering rods caught, locking

them together. Anakin fought with his controls, trying to break free, but

the Pods were hooked fast. Sebulba laughed, jamming his racer against the

boy's in an effort to force him into the ground. Anakin whipped the thruster

bars forward and back, trying to disengage from the tangle. The Radon- Ulzers

strained with the effort, and the steering rods groaned and bent.

Finally Anakin's rod broke completely, snapping of both the armature

and the main horizontal stabilizer. The boy's Pod jerked and spun at the

ends of the Steelton cables, shimmying with such force that Anakin would

have been thrown from the Pod if he had not been strapped down.

But it was much worse for Sebulba. When Anakin's steering arm snapped,

the Dug's Pod shot forward as if catapulted, collapsing the towlines,

sending the engines screaming out of control. One engine slammed into a

piece of the ancient statuary and disintegrated in flames. Then the second

went, ramming into the sand and exploding in a massive fireball. The towing

cables broke free, and the Dug's Pod was sent skidding through the

flaming

wreckage of the engines, twisting and bumping violently along the desert

floor to a smoking stop. Sebulba extricated himself in a shrieking fit,

throwing pieces of his ruined Pod in all directions only to discover that

his pants were on fire.

Anakin Skywalker flew overhead, the exhausts from the big Radon-Ulzers

sending sand and grit into the Dug's face in a stinging spray. Hanging on to

maintain control as he crossed the finish line, he became, at nine years of

age, the youngest winner ever of the Boonta Eve race.

14

As the viewing platform he occupied with Shmi, Padme, and Jar Jar

slowly lowered, Qui-Gon watched the crowd surge toward Anakin's racer.

The

boy had brought the Pod to a skidding halt in the center of the raceway,

shut down the Radon-Ulzers, and climbed out. Kitster had already reached him

and was hugging him tightly, and R2-D2 and C-3PO were scuttling around them

both. When the crowd converged moments later, they hoisted Anakin aloft and

carried him away, chanting and shouting his name.

Qui-Gon exchanged a warm smile with Shmi, nodding his approval of the

boy's performance. Anakin Skywalker was special indeed.

The viewing platform settled in place smoothly, and its occupants off -

loaded onto the raceway in a rush. Allowing his companions to join the

celebration, the Jedi Master turned back toward the stands. Ascending the

stairways swiftly, he reached Watto's private box in minutes. A knot of

aliens departed just in front of him, laughing and joking in several

languages, counting fistfuls of currency and credits. Watto was staring out

at the chanting crowd, hovering at the edge of the viewport, a dejected look

on his wrinkled blue face.

The moment he caught sight of Qui-Gon, his dejection transformed, and

he flew at the Jedi Master in undisguised fury.

"You! You swindled me!" He bounced in the air in front of Qui-Gon,

shaking with rage. "You knew the boy was going to win! Somehow you knew it!

I lost everything!"

Qui-Gon smiled benignly. "Whenever you gamble, my friend, eventually

you'll lose. Today wasn't your day." The smile dropped away. "Bring the

hyperdrive parts to the main hangar right away. I'll come by your shop later

so you can release the boy."

The Toydarian shoved his snout against Qui-Gon's nose. "You can't have

him! It wasn't a fair bet!"

Qui-Gon looked him up and down with a chilly stare. "Would you like to

discuss it with the Hutts? I'm sure they would be happy to settle the

matter."

Watto jerked as if stung, his beady eyes filled with hate. "No, no!

I

want no more of your tricks." He gestured emphatically. "Take the boy!

Be

gone!"

He wheeled away and flew out of the box, body hunched beneath madly

beating wings. Qui-Gon watched him depart, then started down the stairs for

the racetrack, his mind already turning to other things.

Had he not been so preoccupied with his plans for what lay ahead, he

might have caught sight of the Sith probe droid trailing after.

Within an hour, the arena had emptied, the racers had been stored or

hauled away for repairs, and the main hangar left almost deserted. A few pit

droids were still engaged in salvaging pieces of wreckage from the race,

corning and going in steady pursuit of their work. Anakin alone of the Pod

pilots remained, checking over his damaged racer. He was dirty and ragged,

his hair spiky and his face streaked with sweat and grime. His jacket was

torn in several places, and there was blood on his clothing where he had

slashed his arm on a jagged piece of metal during the battle with Sebulba.

Qui-Gon watched him thoughtfully, standing to one side with Padme and

Shrni as the boy, Jar Jar, R2-D2, and C-3PO moved busily over the Pod and

engines. Could it be? he was wondering for what must have been the hundredth

time, pondering the way the boy handled a Podracer, the maturity he

exhibited, and the instincts he possessed. Was it possible?

He shelved his questions for another time. It would be up to the

Council to decide. Abruptly, he left the women, walking over to the boy and

kneeling beside him.

"You're a bit worse for wear, Annie," he said softly, placing his hands

on the boy's shoulders and looking him in the eyes, "but you did well."

Smiling reassuringly, he wiped a patch of dirt off the boy's face.

"There,

good as new."

He ruffled the boy's unruly hair and helped bind his injured arm.

Shrni

and Padme joined them and were moved to give Anakin fresh hugs and kisses,

checking him over carefully, touching his cheeks and forehead.

"Ah, gee... enough of this," the boy mumbled in embarrassment.

His mother smiled, shaking her head. "It's so wonderful, Anniie -

what

you've done here. Do you know? You've brought hope to those who have none.

I'm so very proud of you."

"We owe you everything," Padme added quickly, giving him an intense,

warm look.

Anakin blushed scarlet. "Just feeling this good is worth anything,"

he

declared, smiling back.

Qui-Gon walked over to where the hyperdrive parts were loaded on an

antigrav repulsorsled harnessed to a pair of eopies. Watto had made delivery

as promised, though not without considerable grumbling and a barrage of

thinly veiled threats. Qui-Gon checked the container straps, glanced out

into the midday heat, and walked back to the others.

"Padme, Jar Jar, let's go," he ordered abruptly. "We've got to get

these parts back to the ship."

The group moved over to the eopies, laughing and talking. Padme hugged

and kissed Anakin again, then climbed onto one of the eopies behind Qui- Gon,

taking hold of his waist. Jar Jar swung onto the second animal and promptly

slid off the other side, collapsing in a heap. R2-D2 beeped encouragingly as

the Gungan tried again, this time managing to keep his seat. Goodbyes and

thank-yous were exchanged, but it was an awkward moment for Anakin.

He

looked as if he wanted to say something to Padme, moving up beside her

momentarily, staring up at her expectantly. But all he could manage was a

sad, confused look.

Slowly, the eopies began to move off, Anakin and his mother standing

with C-3PO, waving after.

"I'll return the eopies by midday," Qui-Gon promised, calling over his

shoulder.

Padme did not look back at all.

Qui-Gon Jinn and company rode out of Mos Espa into the Tatooine desert,

R2-D2 leading the way, rolling along in front of the eopies and sled at a

steady pace. The suns were rising quickly to a midday position in the sky,

and the heat rose off the sand in waves. But the journey back to the Queen's

transport was accomplished swiftly and without incident.

Obi-Wan was waiting for them, appearing down the rampway as soon as

they neared, his youthful face intense. "I was getting worried,"

he

announced without preamble.

Qui-Gon dismounted, then helped Padme down. "Start getting this

hyperdrive generator installed," he ordered. "I'm going back. I have some

unfinished business."

"Business?" his protege echoed, arching one eyebrow.

"I won't be long."

Obi-Wan studied him a moment, then sighed. "Why do I sense we've picked

up another stray?"

Qui-Gon took his arm and moved him away from the others. "It's the boy

who's responsible for getting us these parts." He paused. "The boy whose

blood sample you ran the midichlorian test on last night."

Obi-Wan gave him a hard, steady look, then turned away.

On a rise overlooking the spacecraft, hidden in the glare of the suns

and the ripple of the dunes, the Sith probe droid hung motionless for a

final transmission, then quickly sped away.

Anakin walked home with his mother and C-3PO, still wrapped in the

euphoria of his victory, but wrestling as well with his sadness over the

departure of Padme. He hadn't thought about what would happen to her if he

won the Boonta Eve, that it would mean Qui-Gon would secure the hyperdrive

generator he needed to make their transport functional. So when she bent to

kiss and hug him good - bye, it was the first time he had given the matter

any serious thought since her arrival. He was stunned, caught in a mix of

emotions, and all of a sudden he wanted to tell her to stay. But he couldn't

bring himself to speak the words, knowing how foolish they would sound,

realizing she couldn't do so in any case.

So he stood there like a droid without its vocoder, watching her ride

away behind Qui-Gon, thinking it might well be the last time he would ever

see her, and wondering how he was going to live with himself if it was.

Unable to sit still once he had walked his mother to their home, he

placed C-3PO back in his bedroom, deactivated him, and went out again.

Qui-Gon had told him he was relieved of any work today at Watto's, so he

pretty much could do what he wanted until the Jedi returned. He gave no

thought to what would happen then, wandering down toward Mos Espa Way,

waving as his name was shouted out from every quarter on his journey,

basking in the glow of his success. He still couldn't quite believe it, and

yet it felt as if he had always known he would win this race.

Kitster

appeared, then Amee and Wald, and soon he was surrounded by a dozen others.

He was just approaching the connector to Mos Espa Way when a Rodian

youngster, bigger than himself, blocked his way. Anakin had cheated, the

Rodian sneered. He couldn't have won the Boonta Eve any other way. No slave

could win anything. Anakin was on top of him so fast the bigger being barely

had time to put up his arms in defense before he was on the ground.

Anakin was hitting him as hard and fast as he could, not thinking about

anything but how angry he was, not even aware that the source of his anger

had nothing to do with his victim and everything to do with losing Padme.

Then Qui-Gon, returned by now with the eopies, was looming over him.

He

pulled Anakin away, separating the two fighters, and demanded to know what

this was all about. Somewhat sheepishly, but still angry, Anakin told him.

Qui-Gon studied him carefully, disappointment registering on his broad

features. He fixed the young Rodian with his gaze and asked him if he still

believed Anakin had cheated. The youngster, glowering at Anakin, said he

did.

Qui-Gon put his hand on Anakin's shoulder and steered him away from the

crowd, not saying anything until they were out of hearing.

"You know, Annie," he said then, his deep voice thoughtful,

"fighting

didn't change his opinion. The opinions of others, whether you agree with

them or not, are something you have to learn to tolerate."

He walked the boy back toward his home, counseling him quietly about

the way life worked, hand resting on his shoulder in a way that made Anakin

feel comforted. As they neared the boy's home, the Jedi reached beneath his

poncho and produced a leather pouch filled with credits.

"These are yours," he announced. "I sold the Pod." He pursed his lips.

"To a particularly surly and rather insistent Dug."

Anakin accepted the bag, grinning broadly, the fight and its cause

forgotten.

He ran up the steps to his door and burst through, Qui-Gon following

silently. "Mom, Mom!" he cried out as she appeared to greet him.

"Guess

what! Qui-Gon sold the Pod! Look at all the money we have!"

He produced the leather pouch and dropped it into her hands, enjoying

the startled look on her face. "Oh, my goodness!" she breathed softly,

staring down at the bulging pouch. "Annie, that's wonderful!"

Her eyes lifted quickly to meet Qui-Gon's. The Jedi stepped forward,

holding her gaze.

"Annie has been freed," he said.

The boy's eyes went wide. "What?"

Qui-Gon glanced down at him. "You are no longer a slave."

Shrni Skywalker stared at the Jedi in disbelief, her worn face rigid,

her eyes mirroring her shock and disbelief.

"Mom? Did you hear that, Mom?" Anakin let out a whoop and jumped as

high as he could manage. It wasn't possible! But he knew it was true, knew

that it really was!

He managed to collect himself. "Was that part of the prize, or what?"

he asked, grinning.

Qui-Gon grinned back. "Let's just say Watto learned an important lesson

about gambling."

Shrni Skywalker was shaking her head, still stunned by the news, still

working it through. But the sight of Anakin's face made everything come

clear for her in an instant. She reached out to him and pressed him to her.

"Now you can make your dreams come true, Annie," she whispered, her

face radiant as she touched his cheek. "You're free."

She released him and turned to Qui-Gon, her eyes bright and expectant.

"Will you take him with you? Is he to become a Jedi?" Anakin beamed at the

suggestion, wheeling quickly on Qui-Gon, waiting for his answer.

The Jedi Master hesitated. "Our meeting was not a coincidence.

Nothing

happens by accident. You are strong with the Force, Annie, but you may not

be accepted by the Council."

Anakin heard what he wanted to hear, blocking away everything else,

seeing the possibilities that had fueled his hopes and dreams for so long

come alive in a single moment.

"A Jedi!" he gasped. "You mean I get to go with you in your starship

and everything!"

And be with Padme again! The thought struck him like a thunderbolt,

wrapping him in such expectancy that it was all he could do to listen to

what the Jedi Master said next.

Qui-Gon knelt before the boy, his face somber. "Anakin, training to be

a Jedi will not be easy. It will be a challenge. And if you succeed, it will

be a hard life."

Anakin shook his head quickly. "But it's what I want! It's what I've

always dreamed about!" He looked quickly to his mother. "Can I go, Mom?"

But Qui-Gon drew him back with a touch. "This path has been placed

before you, Annie. The choice to take it must be yours alone."

The man and the boy stared at each other. A mix of emotions roiled

through Anakin, threatening to sweep him away, but at their forefront was

the happiness he felt at finding the thing he wanted most in all the world

within reach-to be a Jedi, to journey down the space lanes of the galaxy.

He

glanced quickly at his mother, at her worn, accepting face, seeing in her

eyes that in this, as in all things, she wanted what was best for him.

His gaze returned to Qui-Gon. "I want to go," he said.

"Then pack your things," the Jedi Master advised. "We haven't much

time."

"Yippee!" the boy shouted, jumping up and down, anxious already to be

on his way. He rushed to his mother and hugged her as hard as he could

manage, then broke away for his bedroom.

He was almost to the doorway when he realized he had forgotten

something. A chill swept through him as he wheeled back to Qui-Gon.

"What

about Mom?" he asked hurriedly, eyes darting from one to the other. "Is she

free, too? You're coming, aren't you, Mom?"

Qui-Gon and his mother exchanged a worried glance, and he knew the

answer before the Jedi spoke the words. "I tried to free your mother, Annie,

but Watto wouldn't have it. Slaves give status and lend prestige to their

owners here on Tatooine."

The boy felt his chest and throat tighten. "But the money from

selling..."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "It's not nearly enough."

There was a hushed silence, and then Shrni Skywalker came to her son

and sat down in a chair next to him, taking both of his hands in hers and

drawing him close. Her eyes were steady as she looked into his.

"Annie, my place is here," she said quietly. "My future is here. It is

time for you to let go...to let go of me. I cannot go with you."

The boy swallowed hard. "I want to stay with you, then. I don't want

things to change."

She gave him an encouraging smile, her brow knitting. "You can't stop

change any more than you can stop the suns from setting. Listen to your

feelings, Annie. You know what's right."

Anakin Skywalker took a long, slow breath and dropped his gaze, his

head lowering. Everything was corning apart inside, all the happiness

melting away, all the expectancy fading. But then he felt his mother's hands

tighten over his own, and in her touch he found the strength he needed to do

what he knew he must.

Nevertheless, his eyes were brimming as he lifted his gaze once more.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Mom," he whispered.

His mother nodded. "I love you, Annie." She released his hands.

"Now,

hurry."

Anakin gave her a quick, hard hug, and raced from the room, tears

streaking his face.

Once within his own room, Anakin stood staring about in sudden

bewilderment. He was leaving, and he did not know when he would be coming

back. He had never been anywhere but here, never known anyone but the people

of Mos Espa and those who came to trade with them. He had dreamed about

other worlds and other lives, about becoming a pilot of a mainline ship, and

about becoming a Jedi. But the impact of what it actually meant to be

standing at the threshold of an embarkation to the life he had so often

wished for was overwhelming.

He found himself thinking of the old spacer, telling him that he

wouldn't be surprised at all if Anakin Skywalker became something more than

a slave. He had wanted that more than anything, had hoped with all his heart

for it to happen.

But he had never, ever considered the possibility he would have to

leave his mother behind.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, fighting back new ones, hearing his

mother's and Qui-Gon's voices from the other room.

"Thank you," his mother was saying softly.

"I will watch after him. You have my word." The Jedi's deep voice was

warm and reassuring. "Will you be all right?"

Anakin couldn't hear her reply. But then she said, "He was in my life

for such a short time..."

She trailed off, distracted. Anakin forced himself to quit listening,

and he began pulling clothes out and stuffing them into a backpack.

He

didn't have much, and it didn't take him long. He looked about for anything

of importance he might have missed, and his eyes settled on C-3PO, sitting

motionless on the workbench. He walked over to the protocol droid and

switched him on. C-3PO cocked his head and looked at the boy blankly.

"Well, Threepio, I'm leaving," Anakin said solemnly. "I'm free.

I'm

going away, in a starship..."

He didn't know what else to say. The droid cocked his head.

"Well,

Master Anakin, you are my maker, and-I, wish you well. Although I'd like it

better if I were a little less naked."

The boy sighed and nodded. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to finish you,

Threepio - to give you coverings and all. I'm going to miss working on you.

You've been a great pal. I'll make sure Mom doesn't sell you or anything.

Bye!"

He snatched up his backpack and rushed from the room, hearing C-3PO

call after him plaintively, "Sell me?"

He said good-bye to his mother, braver now, more determined, and walked

out the door with Qui-Gon, his course of action settled. He had gotten

barely a dozen meters from his home when Kitster, who had trailed them back

from the fight, came rushing up to him.

"Where are you going, Annie?" his friend asked doubtfully. Anakin took

a deep breath. "I've been freed, Kitster. I'm going away with Qui-Gon. On a

spaceship."

Kitster's eyes went wide, and his mouth opened in a silent exclamation.

Anakin fished in his pockets and came out with a handful of credits, which

he shoved at his friend. "Here. These are for you."

Kitster's dark face looked down at the credits, then back up at Anakin.

"Do you have to go, Annie? Do you have to? Can't you stay? Annie, you're a

hero!"

Anakin swallowed hard. "I..." He glanced past Kitster to his mother,

still standing in the doorway looking after him, then down to where Qui- Gon

was waiting. He shook his head. "I can't."

Kitster nodded. "Well."

"Well," Anakin repeated, looking at him.

"Thanks for everything, Annie," the other boy said. There were tears in

his eyes as he accepted the credits. "You're my best friend."

Anakin bit his lip. "I won't forget."

He hugged Kitster impulsively, then broke away and raced toward

Qui-Gon. But before he reached him, he glanced back one more time at his

mother. Seeing her standing in the doorway brought him about. He stood there

momentarily, undecided, conflicting emotions tearing at him. Then his

already shaky resolve collapsed altogether, and he raced back to her. By the

time he reached her, he was crying freely.

"I can't do it, Mom," he whispered, clinging to her. "I just can't!"

He was shaking, wracked with sobs, disintegrating inside so quickly

that all he could think about was holding on to her. Shmi let him do so for

a moment, comforting him with her warmth, then backed him away.

She knelt before him, her worn face solemn. "Annie, remember when you

climbed that dune in order to chase the banthas away so they wouldn't be

shot? You were only five. Remember how you-collapsed several times in the

heat, exhausted, thinking you couldn't do it, that it was too hard?"

Anakin nodded, his face streaked with tears.

Shmi held his gaze. "This is one of those times when you I have to do

something you don't think you can do. But I know how strong you are, Annie.

I know you can do this."

The boy swallowed his tears, thinking she was wrong, he was not strong

at all, but knowing, too, she had decided he must go, even if he found it

hard, even if he resisted.

"Will I ever see you again?" he asked in desperation, giving voice to

the worst of his fears.

"What does your heart tell you?" she asked quietly.

Anakin shook his head doubtfully. "I don't know. Yes, I guess."

His mother nodded. "Then it will happen, Annie."

Anakin took a deep breath to steady himself. He had stopped crying now,

and he wiped the dampness of his tears from his face.

"I will become a Jedi," he declared in a small voice. "And I will come

back and free you, Mom. I promise."

"No matter where you are, my love will be with you," Shmi told him, her

kind face bent close to his. "Now be brave, and don't look back."

"I love you, Mom," Anakin said.

She hugged him one final time, then turned him around so he was facing

away from her. "Don't look back, Annie," she whispered.

She gave him a small push, and he strode determinedly away, shouldering

his pack, keeping his eyes fixed on a point well past where Qui-Gon stood

waiting. He walked toward that point without slowing, marching right past

the Jedi Master, fighting back the tears that threatened to come yet again.

It took only a few minutes, and his mother and his home were behind him.

They went to Watto's shop first, where the Toydarian had completed the

forms necessary to assure Anakin's freedom. The transmitter that bound

Anakin to his life of slavery was deactivated permanently. It would be

removed surgically at a later date. Watto was still grumbling about the

unfairness of things as they left him and went back out into the street.

From there, at Anakin's urging, they walked to Jira's fruit stand a

short distance away. Anakin, much recovered from the trauma of leaving his

mother, marched up to the old woman and put a handful of credits into her

frail hands.

"I've been freed, Jira," he told her, a determined set to his jaw.

"I'm

going away. Use these for that cooling unit I promised you. Otherwise, I'll

worry."

Jira looked at the credits in disbelief. She shook her white head.

"Can

I give you a hug?" she asked him softly. She reached out for him, drawing

him against her thin body, her eyes closing as she held him. "I'll miss you,

Annie," she said, releasing him. "There isn't a kinder boy in the galaxy.

You be careful."

He left her in a rush, racing after Qui-Gon, who was already moving

away, anxious to get going. They walked in silence down a series of side

streets, the boy's eyes taking in familiar sights he would not soon see

again, remembering his life here, saying good-bye.

He was lost in his own thoughts when Qui-Gon swung about with such

swiftness it caught the boy completely by surprise. Down swept the Jedi's

lightsaber in a brilliant arc, cutting through the shadows between two

buildings, clashing momentarily with something made of metal that shattered

in the wake of the weapon's passing.

Qui-Gon clicked off the lightsaber and knelt to inspect a cluster of

metal parts still sparking and fizzing in the sand. The acrid smell of ozone

and burning insulation hung in the dry air. "What is it?" the boy asked,

peering over his shoulder.

Qui-Gon rose. "Probe droid. Very unusual. Not like anything I've seen

before." He glanced about worriedly, eyes sharp and bright as he cast up and

down the street.

"Come on, Annie," he ordered, and they moved quickly away.

15

Qui-Gon Jinn took the boy out of Mos Espa swiftly, hurrying through the

crowded streets to the less populated outskirts. All the while, his eyes and

mind were searching, the former the landscape of Tatooine, the latter the

landscape of the Force. His instincts had alerted him to the presence of the

probe droid tracking them, and his Jedi training in the ways of the Force

warned him now of something far more dangerous. He could feel a shifting in

the balance of things that suggested an intrusion on the harmony that the

Force required, a dark weight descending like a massive stone.

Once out on the desert, in the open, he picked up the pace. The Queen's

transport came into view, a dark shape just ahead, a haven of safety.

He

heard Anakin call out to him, the boy working hard to keep up, but beginning

to fall behind.

Glancing over his shoulder to give his response and offer

encouragement, he caught sight of the speeder and its dark-cloaked rider

bearing down on them.

"Drop, Anakin!" he shouted, wheeling about.

The boy threw himself facedown, flattening against the sand as the

speeder whipped overhead, barely missing him as it bore down on Qui- Gon.

The

Jedi Master already had his lightsaber out, the blade activated, the weapon

held before him in two hands. The speeder came at him, a saddle-shaped

vehicle with no weapons in evidence, made to rely on quickness and

maneuverability rather than firepower. It was like nothing the Jedi had ever

seen, but vaguely reminiscent of something dead and gone.

Its rider rode out of the glare of the suns and was revealed.

Bold

markings of red and black covered a demonic face in strange, jagged patterns

beneath a crown of stunted horns encircling its head. Man-shaped and

humanoid, his slitted eyes and hooked teeth were nevertheless feral and

predatory, and his how was a hunter's challenge to his prey.

The primal scream had barely sounded before he was on top of Qui-Gon,

wheeling the speeder aside deftly at the last moment, closing off its

thruster, and leaping from the seat, all in one swift movement. He carried a

lightsaber of another make, and the weapon was cutting at the Jedi Master

even before the attacker's feet had touched the ground. Qui-Gon, surprised

by the other's quickness and ferocity, barely blocked the blow with his own

weapon, the blades sliding apart with a harsh rasp. The attacker spun away

in a whirl of dark clothing, then attacked anew, lightsaber slashing at his

intended prey, face alight with a killing frenzy that promised no quarter.

Anakin was back on his feet, staring at them, clearly unable to decide

what he should do. Fighting to hold his ground, Qui-Gon caught sight of him

out of the corner of his eye.

"Annie! Get out of here!" he cried out.

His attacker closed with him again, forcing him back, striking at him

from every angle. Even without knowing anything else, Qui-Gon knew this man

was trained in the fighting arts of a Jedi, a skilled and dangerous

adversary. Worse, he was younger, quicker, and stronger than Qui-Gon, and he

was gaining ground rapidly. The Jedi Master blocked him again and again, but

could not find an opening that would provide any chance of escape.

"Annie!" he screamed again, seeing the boy immobilized. "Get to the

ship! Tell them to take off Go, go!"

Hammering at the demonic-faced attacker with renewed determination,

Qui-Gon Jinn saw the boy at last begin to run.

In a rush of emotion dominated by fear and doubt, Anakin Skywalker

raced past the combatants for the Naboo spacecraft. It sat not three hundred

meters away, metal skin gleaming dully in the afternoon sunlight.

Its

loading ramp was down, but there was no sign of its occupants. Anakin ran

faster, sweat streaking his body. He could feel his heart hammering in his

chest as he reached the ramp and bounded onto the ship.

Just inside the hatchway, he found Padme and a dark-skinned man in

uniform coming toward him. When Padme caught sight of him, her eyes went

wide.

"Qui-Gon's in trouble!" the boy blurted out, gasping for breath.

"He

says to take off Now!"

The man stared, eyes questioning and suspicious. "Who are you?"

he

demanded.

But Padme was already moving, seizing Anakin by the arm, pulling him

toward the front of the spacecraft. "He's a friend," she answered, leading

the way forward. "Hurry, Captain."

They rushed down the hallway into the cockpit, Anakin trying to tell

the girl what had happened, his words tumbling over one another, his face

flushed and anxious. Padme moved him along in a no - nonsense way, nodding

her understanding, telling him to hurry, taking charge of everything.

When they reached the cockpit, they found two more men at work checking

out the craft's control panel. They turned at the approach of Anakin and his

companions. One wore a pilot's insignia on the breast of his jacket.

The

second, Anakin was quite certain from the cut of his hair and the look of

his clothing, was another Jedi.

"Qui-Gon is in trouble," Padme announced quickly.

"He says to take off," Anakin added in support.

The Jedi was on his feet at once. He was much younger than Qui-Gon, his

face smooth, his eyes intense, his hair cut short save for a single braided

pigtail that fell over his right shoulder. "Where is he?" he demanded.

Then,

without waiting for an answer, he wheeled back to the viewport and began

scanning the empty flats.

"I don't see anything," the pilot said, peering over his shoulder.

"Over there!" The sharp eyes of the Jedi caught sight of movement just

at the corner of the port. "Get us into the air and over there! Now!

Fly

low!"

The man called Ric threw himself into the pilot's seat, while '.

the

others, Anakin included, scrambled to find seats. The big repulsorlifts

kicked in with a low growl, the rampway sealed, and the sleek transport rose

and wheeled smoothly about.

"There," the Jedi breathed, pointing.

They could see Qui-Gon Jinn now, engaged in battle with the

dark-garbed, demonic figure. The combatants surged back and forth across the

flats, lightsabers flashing brightly with each blow struck, sand and grit

swirling in all directions. Qui-Gon's long hair streamed out behind him in

sharp contrast to the smooth horned head of his adversary. The pilot Ric

took the spacecraft toward them quickly, skimming the ground barely higher

than a speeder bike, coming in from behind the attacker. Anakin held his

breath as they closed on the fighters. Ric's hand slid over the control that

would lower the ramp, easing it forward carefully.

"Stand by," he ordered, freezing them all in place as he swung the ship

about.

The combatants disappeared in a fresh swirl of sand and the glare of

Tatooine's twin suns. All eyes shifted quickly to the viewscreens, searching

desperately.

Then Qui-Gon appeared, leaping onto the lowered rampway of the

transport, gaining purchase, one hand grasping a strut for support.

Ric

hissed in approval and fought to hold the spacecraft steady. But the horned

attacker was already in pursuit, racing out of the haze and leaping onto the

ramp as the ship began to rise. Balanced precariously against the sway of

the ship, eyes flaring in rage, he fought to keep his footing.

Qui-Gon attacked at once, rushing the other man, closing with him at

the edge of the ramp. They were twenty meters into the air by now, the pilot

holding the spacecraft steady as he saw the combatants come to grips yet

again, afraid to go higher while Qui-Gon was exposed. The Jedi Master and

his adversary filled the viewscreen commanding the rampway entrance, faces

tight with determination and streaked with sweat.

"Qui-Gon," Anakin heard the second Jedi say quietly, desperately,

watching the battle for just a moment more, then tearing his eyes away from

the viewscreen and racing down the open corridor.

On the screen, Anakin watched Qui-Gon Jinn step back, level his

lightsaber, and swing a powerful, two-handed blow at his attacker.

The

horned man blocked it, but only barely, and in the process lost his balance

completely. The blow's force swept him away, clear of the ramp and off into

space. He dropped back toward the desert floor, landed in a crouch, and rose

instantly to his feet. But the chase was over. He stood watching in

frustration, yellow eyes aflame, as the ramp to the Queen's transport closed

and the spacecraft rocketed away.

Qui-Gon had barely managed to scramble up the rampway and into the

interior of the ship before the hatch sealed and the Nubian began to

accelerate. He lay on the cool metal floor of the entry, his clothing dusty

and damp with his sweat, his body bruised and battered. He breathed deeply,

waiting for his pounding heart to quiet. He had barely escaped with his

life, and the thought was worrisome. His opponent was strong and had tested

him severely. He was getting old, he decided, and he did not like the

feeling.

Obi-Wan and Anakin rushed down the hallway to help him to his feet, and

it was hard to tell which of them looked the more worried. It made him smile

in spite of himself.

The boy spoke first. "Are you all right?" he asked, his young face

mirroring his concern.

Qui-Gon nodded, brushing himself off. "I think so. That was a surprise

I won't soon forget."

"What sort of creature was it?" Obi-Wan pressed, brow furrowed darkly.

He wants to go back and pick up where I left off, Qui-Gon thought.

The Jedi Master shook his head. "I'm not sure. Whoever or whatever he

was, he was trained in the Jedi arts. My guess is he was after the Queen."

"Do you think he'll follow us?" Anakin asked quickly.

"We'll be safe enough once we're in hyperspace," Qui-Gon replied,

sidestepping the question. "But I have no doubt he knows our destination.

If

he found us once, he can find us again."

The boy's brow furrowed. "What are we going to do about it?" At this

point, Obi-Wan turned to stare at the boy, giving him a look that demanded

in no uncertain terms, What do you mean, "we"? The boy caught the look and

stared back at him, expressionless.

"We will be patient," Qui-Gon advised, straightening himself, drawing

their attention back to him. "Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The boy beamed. "Pleased to meet you. Wow! You're a Jedi Knight, too,

aren't you?"

The younger Jedi looked from the boy to Qui-Gon and rolled his eyes in

despair.

From the entry, they made their way back down the hall to the cockpit,

where Ric Olie was at work preparing the ship for the jump to hyperspace.

Qui - Gon introduced Anakin to each of those present, then moved to the

console to stand next to Ric. ' "Ready," the pilot announced over his

shoulder, one eyebrow cocked expectantly.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Let's hope the hyperdrive works and Watto doesn't get

the last laugh."

Standing in a group behind Ric, the company watched silently as he

fitted his hands to the controls and engaged the hyperdrive. There was a

quick, sharp whine, and the stars that filled the viewport turned from

silver pinpricks to long streamers as the ship streaked smoothly into

hyperspace, leaving Tatooine behind.

***

Night layover the planet of Naboo, but the silence of Theed exceeded

even that normally experienced by those anticipating sleep. In the ornately

appointed throne room that had once been the sole province of Queen Amidala,

a strange collection of creatures gathered to witness the sentencing of

Governor Sio Bibble. Trade Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray had convened the

assembled, which consisted of Rune Haako and several other Neimoidians, the

governor and a handful of officials in the Queen's service, and a vast array

of battle droids armed with blasters to keep the Naboo prisoners in line.

The Neimoidian was seated in a mechno-chair, a robotic walker that bore

him from one part of the room to another, metal legs moving in response to a

simple touch of his fingers. It carried him to Sio Bibble and the Naboo

officials now, jointed armatures working in careful precision, allowing him

to remain relaxed and comfortable as he took note of the fear in the eyes of

the officials backing Bibble.

The governor was having none of it, however. Steadfast even now, he

faced Gunray with anger and determination, his white head level, his eyes

challenging. The Neimoidian glared at him; Sio Bibble was becoming a

source

of irritation.

"When are you going to give up this pointless strike?" he snapped at

the governor, leaning forward slightly to emphasize his displeasure.

"I will give up the strike, Viceroy, when the Queen-"

"Your Queen is lost; your people are starving!"

Bibble stiffened. "The Naboo will not be intimidated, not even at the

cost of innocent lives-"

"Perhaps you should worry more about yourself, Governor!" Gunray cut

him off sharply. "The odds are good that you are going to die much sooner

than your people!" He was shaking with rage, and all at once his patience

was exhausted. "Enough of this!" he exploded. "Take him away!"

The battle droids moved quickly, surrounding Sio Bibble, separating him

from his colleagues.

"This invasion will gain you nothing!" the governor called back over

his shoulder as he was dragged out. "We are a democracy! The people have

decided, Viceroy! They will not live in tyranny..."

The rest of what he said was lost as he disappeared through the doorway

into the hall beyond. The Naboo officials filed out after him, silent and

dejected.

The Neimoidian stared after them momentarily, then turned his attention

to OOM-9 as the commander of his battle droids approached, metal face blank,

voice devoid of inflection.

"My troops are in position to begin searching the swamps for the

rumored underwater villages," OOM-9 reported. "They will not stay hidden for

long."

Nute Gunray nodded and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

He

thought nothing of these savages who occupied the swamps. They would be

crushed in short order. For all intents and purposes, the planet was in his

control.

He leaned back in the mechno-chair, a measure of calmness returning.

All that remained was for the Sith Lords to bring him the Queen.

Certainly

they should have little difficulty in accomplishing that.

Nevertheless, he knew he wouldn't be happy until this business was

over.

Aboard the Queen's transport, Anakin Skywalker sat shivering in a

corner of the central chamber, trying to decide what he should do to get

warm. Everyone else was asleep, and he had been asleep as well, but only for

a short time, troubled by his dreams. He came awake to the silence and could

not make himself move, paralyzed by more than simply the cold.

Jar Jar slept to one side, stretched out in a chair, head back, snoring

loudly. Nothing kept the Gungan from sleeping. Or eating, for that matter.

The boy smiled briefly. R2-D2 rested close by, upright and mostly silent,

his lights blinking softly.

Anakin stared into the darkness, willing himself to move, to overcome

his inertia. But his dreams haunted him still. He found himself thinking of

his mother and home, and everything closed down inside. He missed her so

much! He had thought it would get better once he was away, but it hadn't.

Everything reminded him of her, and if he tried to close his eyes against

those memories, he found her face waiting for him, suspended in the darkness

of his thoughts, anxious and worn.

Tears came to his eyes, unbidden. Maybe he had made a mistake by

coming. Maybe he should go home. Except he couldn't now. Maybe not

ever

again.

A slim figure entered the room, and Anakin watched the light of a

viewscreen illuminate Padme's soft face. Standing as if carved from stone,

she clicked on a recording and stood watching the replay of Sio Bibble's

plea to Queen Amidala to come home, to save her people from starvation, to

help them in their time of need. She watched it all the way through, then

shut it off again and stood staring at nothing, her head bent.

What was she doing?

Suddenly she seemed to sense him watching, and turned quickly toward

where he crouched. Her beautiful face seemed tired and careworn as she

approached and knelt beside him. He stiffened, trying desperately to stop

from crying, but he couldn't hide either the tears or his shivering, and was

left huddled before her, revealed.

"Are you all right, Annie?" she asked him softly.

"It's very cold," he managed to whisper.

She smiled and removed her heavy overjacket, wrapping it around his

shoulders and tucking it about him. "You're from a warm planet, Annie.

Space

is cold."

Anakin nodded, pulling the jacket tighter. He brushed at his eyes.

"You

seem sad," he said.

If she saw the irony in his observation, 'she did not say so.

"The

Queen is worried. Her people are suffering, dying. She must convince the

Senate to intervene, or else..." She trailed off, unwilling to speak the

words. "I'm not sure what will happen," she finished, her voice distant, her

eyes sliding away from his to fix on something else.

"I'm not sure what's going to happen to me, either," he admitted

worriedly. "I don't know if I'll ever see-"

He stopped, his throat tightening, the words fading away into silence.

He took a deep breath, furrowed his brow, and reached into his pocket.

"Here," he said, "I made this for you. So you'd remember me. I carved

it out of a japor snippet. Take it. It will bring you good fortune."

He handed her an intricately carved wooden pendant. She studied it a

moment, face lowered in shadow, then slipped it around her neck.

"It's beautiful. But I don't need this to remember you." Her face

lifted to his with a smile. "How could I forget my future husband?"

She

looked down at the pendant, fingering it thoughtfully. "Many things will

change when we reach Coruscant, Annie. My caring for you will not be one of

them."

The boy nodded, swallowing. "I know. And I won't stop caring for you,

either. Only, I miss - "

His voice broke, and the tears sprang into his eyes once more.

"You miss your mother," the girl finished quietly.

Anakin nodded, wiping at his face, unable to speak a word as Padme

Naberrie drew him against her and held him close.

16

Even before an off-world traveler was close enough to understand why,

he could tell that Coruscant was different from other planets.

Seasoned

veterans were always amazed at how strange the planet looked from space,

casting not the softer blue and white shades of planets still verdant and

unspoiled, but an odd silvery glow that suggested the reflection of sunlight

off metal.

The impression was not misleading. The days in which Coruscant could be

viewed in any sort of natural state were dead and gone. The capital city had

expanded over the centuries, building by building, until it wrapped the

entire planet. Forests, mountains, bodies of water, and natural formations

had been covered over. The atmosphere was filtered through oxygen regulators

and purified by scrubbers, and water was gathered and stored in massive

artificial aquifers. Native animals, birds, plants, and fish could be found

in the museums or the climate-controlled indoor preserves. As Anakin

Skywalker could clearly see from the viewport of Queen Amidala ' s slowly

descending transport, Coruscant had become a planet of skyscrapers, their

gleaming metal towers stretching skyward in a forest of spear points, an

army of frozen giants blanketing the horizon in every direction.

The boy stared at the city-planet in awe, searching for a break in the

endless forest of buildings, finding norle. He glanced at Ric Olie in the

pilot's seat, and Ric smiled.

"Coruscant, capital of the Republic, an entire planet evolved into one

city." He winked. "A nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live

there."

"It's so huge!" the boy breathed softly.

They dropped into a landfall traffic lane and cruised slowly through

the maze of buildings, sliding along the magnetic guidance lines that

directed airborne vehicles. Ric explained how it worked to Anakin, who

listened with half an ear, his attention still held captive by the vastness

of the cityscape. In the background, the Jedi moved silently. Jar Jar

crouched to one side, peering over the console through the viewport, clearly

terrified by what he was seeing. Anakin knew the Gungan must long for the

familiarity of his swamp home, just as the boy was thinking how much better

he liked the desert.

The Queen's transport slowed now, edging its way out of the traffic

lane, onto a landing dock that floated near a cluster of huge buildings.

Anakin peered down doubtfully. They were several hundred stories up,

hundreds and hundreds of meters in the air. He tore his gaze away,

swallowing hard.

The ship docked with a soft bump on the landing platform, its antigrav

clamps locking in place. The Queen was waiting in the main corridor with her

retinue of handmaidens, guards, and Captain Panaka. She nodded at Qui- Gon,

indicating that he should lead the way. Giving Padme a quick smile, Anakin

followed close on the heels of the Jedi Master as he moved to the hatchway.

The hatch slid open, the loading ramp lowered, and the Jedi Knights,

Anakin Skywalker, and Jar Jar Binks exited into the sunlight of Coruscant.

The boy spent the first few minutes concentrating on not being overwhelmed,

which became even more difficult once he was outside the ship. He kept his

eyes on the rampway and Qui-Gon, not allowing himself to look around at

first for fear he might walk right off into space.

Two men clothed in robes of office of the Republic Senate stood at the

end of the ramp, flanked by a contingent of Republic guards. The Jedi

approached the pair and bowed formally in greeting. Anakin and Jar Jar were

quick to do the same, though only Anakin knew who they were bowing to and

why.

Now Queen Amidala appeared, dressed in her black and gold robes with

the feathered headpiece lending height and flow to her movements as she

descended the ramp. Her handmaidens surrounded her, wrapped in their cloaks

of crimson, faces barely visible in the shadows of their drawn hoods.

Captain Panaka and his complement of Naboo guards escorted them.

Amidala stopped before the two men who waited, eyes shifting to the man

with the kindly face and anxious eyes. Senator Palpatine, the Queen's

emissary to the Republic Senate, bowed in welcome, hands clasped in the

folds of his blue-green robes.

"It is a great relief to see you alive and well, Your Majesty,"

he

offered with a smile, straightening once more. "May I present Supreme

Chancellor Valorum."

Valorum was a tall, silver-haired man of indeterminate age, neither

young nor old in appearance, but something of each, his bearing and voice

strong, but his face and startling blue eyes tired and worried.

"Welcome, Your Highness," he said, a faint smile working its way onto

his stern features. "It is an honor to finally meet you in person. I must

relay to you how distressed everyone is over the current situation on Naboo.

I have called for a special session of the Senate so that you may present

your request for relief.

The Queen held his gaze without moving even a fraction of a centimeter,

tall and regal in her robes of office, white-painted face as still and cool

as ice. "I am grateful for your concern, Chancellor," she said quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin recognized Padme staring out at

him from beneath her consealing hood. When he turned toward her, she gave

him a wink, and he felt himself blush.

Palpatine had moved to the Queen's side and was indicating an air

shuttle that was awaiting them. "There is a question of procedure, but I

feel confident we can overcome it," he was saying, guiding her along the

rampway, her handmaidens, Captain Panaka, and the Naboo guards in tow.

Anakin started to follow, Jar Jar at his side, then stopped as he saw

that the Jedi were still standing with Supreme Chancellor Valorum.

Anakin

glanced back questioningly at Qui-Gon, not certain where he was supposed to

go. The Queen and her retinue slowed in response, and Amidala motioned for

Anakin and the Gungan to join them. Anakin looked again at Qui-Gon, who

nodded wordlessly.

Moving into the air shuttle with the Queen, Anakin and Jar Jar settled

quietly into place in the very back seat. Senator Palpatine glanced over his

shoulder at them from the front, a look of skepticism crossing his face

before he turned away again.

"Me not feelen too good 'bout being here, Annie," the Gungan whispered

doubtfully.

Anakin nodded and tightened his mouth determinedly.

They flew only a short distance to another cluster of buildings and

another loading dock, this one clearly meant for shuttlecraft. There, they

disembarked and were escorted by Palpatine to his quarters, a portion of

which had been made ready for the Queen and her entourage. Anakin and Jar

Jar were given a room and a chance to clean up and were left alone. After a

time, they were collected by one of the handmaidens-not Padme, Anakin noted

with disappointment-and escorted to a waiting room situated outside what

appeared to be Palpatine's office.

"Wait here," the handmaiden instructed, and disappeared back down the

hallway.

The doors to the senator's office were open, and the boy and the Gungan

could see inside clearly. The Queen was present, dressed now in a gown of

purple velvet, which was wrapped about her slim form in layers, the sleeves

long and full, hanging gracefully from her slender arms. A fan-shaped crown

with ornate beadwork and tassels rested upon her head. She was sitting in a

chair, listening as Palpatine spoke to her. Her handmaidens stood to one

side, crimson robes and hoods drawn close about them. Anakin did not think

either was Padme. He wondered if he should try to find her instead of

waiting here, but he did not know where to look.

The conversation within seemed decidedly one-sided, Senator Palpatine

gesturing animatedly as he stalked the room, the Queen as still as stone.

Anakin wished he could hear what was being said. He glanced at Jar Jar, and

he could tell from the Gungan's restless eyes he was thinking the same

thing.

When Captain Panaka walked past them and entered the room beyond,

screening them from view for just a moment, Anakin rose impulsively.

Motioning for Jar Jar to stay where he was, putting a finger to his lips in

warning, he moved to one side of the doorway, pressing close. Through the

crack between the open door and the jamb, he could just make out the

voices

of Palpatine and the Queen, muffled and indistinct.

Palpatine had stopped moving and was standing before the Queen, shaking

his head. "The Republic is not what it once was. The Senate is full of

greedy, squabbling delegates who are only looking out for themselves and

their home systems. There is no interest in the common good-no civility,

only politics." He sighed wearily. "It's disgusting. I must be frank, Your

Majesty. There is little chance the Senate will act on the invasion."

Amidala was silent a moment. "Chancellor Valorum seems to think there

is hope."

"If I may say so, Your Majesty," the senator replied, his voice kind,

but sad, "the chancellor has little real power. He is mired in baseless

accusations of corruption. A manufactured scandal surrounds him.

The

bureaucrats are in charge now."

The Queen rose, standing tall and fixed before him. "What options do we

have, Senator?"

Palpatine seemed to think on the matter for a moment. "Our best choice

would be to push for the election of a stronger supreme chancellor-one who

could take control of the bureaucrats, enforce the laws, and give us

justice." He brushed back his thick hair, worrying his forehead with

steepled fingers. "You could call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor

Valorum."

Amidala did not seem convinced. "Valorum has been our strongest

supporter. Is there no other way?"

Palpatine stood before her. "Our only other choice would be to submit

the matter to the courts-"

"There is no time for that," the Queen interrupted quickly, a hint of

anger in her voice. "The courts take even longer to decide things than the

Senate." She shifted purposefully, an edge sharpening her words further.

"Our people are dying-more and more each day. We must do something quickly.

We must stop the Trade Federation before this gets any worse."

Palpatine gave Amidala a stern look. "To be realistic about the matter,

Your Highness, I believe we are going to have to accept Trade Federation

control as an accomplished fact-for the time being, at least."

The Queen shook her head slowly. "That is something I cannot do,

Senator."

They faced each other in the silence that followed, eyes locked, and

Anakin Skywalker, hiding behind the door without, found himself wondering

suddenly what had become of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Unlike other buildings in the vast sprawl of Coruscant, the Jedi Temple

stood alone. A colossal pyramid with multiple spires rising skyward from its

flat top, it sat apart from everything at the end of a broad promenade

linking it with bulkier, sharper-edged towers in which solitude and

mediation were less likely to be found. Within the Temple were housed the

Jedi Knights and their students, the whole of the order engaged in

contemplation and study of the Force, in codification of its dictates and

mastery of its disciplines, and in training to serve the greater good it

embodied.

The Jedi Council room dominated a central portion of the complex.

The

Council itself was in session, its doors closed, its proceedings hidden from

the eyes and ears of all but fourteen people. Twelve of them - some human,

some nonhuman - comprised the Council, a diverse and seasoned group who had

gravitated to the order from both ends of the galaxy. The final two Jedi,

who were guests of the Council this afternoon, were Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan

Kenobi.

The seats of the twelve Council members formed a circle facing inward

to where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood, the former relating the events of the

past few weeks, the latter a step behind his Master, listening attentively.

The room was circular and domed, supported by graceful pillars spaced

between broad windows open to the city and the light. The shape of the room

and the Council seating reflected the Jedi belief in the equality of and

interconnection between all things. In the world of the Jedi, the balance of

life within the Force was the pathway to understanding and peace.

Qui-Gon studied the faces of his listeners as he spoke, each of them

familiar to him. Most were Jedi Masters like himself, among them Yoda and

Mace Windu, seniors in rank among those seated. They were more compliant in

the ways of the Jedi order than he had ever been or would probably ever be.

He stood apart in the mosaic circle that formed a speaker's platform

for those who addressed the Council, his tall, broad form and deep voice

commanding the attention of those gathered, his blue eyes fixing them each

in turn, constantly searching for a reaction to his words. They watched him

carefully - stately Ki-Adi-Mundi, young and beautiful Adi Gallia, slender

Depa Billaba, crested and marble-faced Even Piell, and all the others, each

different and unique in appearance, each with something vital to offer as a

representative of the Council.

Qui-Gon brought his eyes back to Mace Windu and Yoda, the ones he must

convince, the ones most respected and powerful of those who sat in judgment.

"My conclusion," he finished quietly, his story completed, "is that the

one who attacked me on Tatooine is a Sith Lord."

The silence that followed was palpable. Then there was a stirring of

brown robes, a shifting of bodies and limbs. Glances were exchanged and

murmurs of disbelief quickly voiced.

"A Sith Lord?" Mace Windu repeated with a growl, leaning forward.

He

was a strong, dark-skinned man with a shaved head and penetrating eyes,

smooth-faced despite his years.

"Impossible!" Ki-Adi-Mundi snapped irritably, not bothering to hide his

dismay at the suggestion. "The Sith have been gone for a millennium!"

Yoda shifted only slightly in his chair, a small and wizened presence

in the company of much larger beings, his eyes gone to slits like a

contented sand panther's, his whiskery wrinkled face turned toward Qui- Gon's

thoughtfully.

"Threatened, the Republic is, if the Sith are involved," he observed in

his soft, gravelly voice.

The others began to mutter anew among themselves. Qui-Gon said nothing,

waiting them out. They had believed the Sith destroyed. They had believed

them consumed by their own lust for power. He could feel Obi-Wan shift

uncomfortably at his shoulder, having trouble maintaining his silence.

Mace Windu leaned back heavily, his strong brow furrowing. "This is

difficult to accept, Qui-Gon. I do not understand how the Sith could have

returned without us knowing."

"Hard to see, the dark side is," Yoda said with a small snort.

"Discover who this assassin is, we must."

"Perhaps he will reveal himself again," Ki-Adi-Mundi suggested with a

nod to Qui-Gon.

"Yes," Mace Windu agreed. "This attack was with purpose, that much is

clear. The Queen is his target. Since he failed once, he may try again."

Yoda lifted one skinny arm, pointing at Qui-Gon. "With this Naboo

Queen, you must stay, Qui-Gon. Protect her, you must." The others murmured

their approval, evidencing the confidence they felt in the Jedi Master's

abilities. Still Qui-Gon said nothing.

"We shall use all our resources to unravel this mystery and discover

the identity of your attacker," Mace Windu advised. One hand lifted in

dismissal. "May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon Jinn."

"May the Force be with you," Yoda echoed.

Obi-Wan turned to leave. He stopped when Qui-Gon did not follow, but

instead remained standing before the Council. Obi-Wan held his breath,

knowing what was coming. Yoda cocked his head questioningly. "More to say,

have you, Qui-Gon Jinn?"

With your permission, my Master," the Jedi replied, gaze steady.

"I

have encountered a vergence in the Force."

Yoda's eyes widened slightly. "A vergence, you say?"

"Located around a person?" Mace Windu asked quickly.

Qui-Gon nodded. "A boy. His cells have the highest concentration of

midichlorians I have ever seen in a life-form." He paused. "It is possible

he was conceived by midichlorians."

There was a shocked silence this time. Qui-Gon Jinn was suggesting the

impossible, that the boy was conceived not by human contact, but by the

essence of all life, by the connectors to the Force itself, the

midichlorians. Comprising collective consciousness and intelligence, the

midichlorians formed the link between everything living and the Force.

But there was more that troubled the Jedi Council. There was a

prophecy, so old its origins had long since been lost, that a chosen one

would appear, imbued with an abundance of midichlorians, a being strong with

the Force and destined to alter it forever.

It was Mace Windu who gave voice to the Council's thoughts. "You refer

to the prophecy," he said quietly. "Of the one who will bring balance to the

Force. You believe it is this boy."

Qui-Gon hesitated. "I don't presume-"

"But you do!" Yoda snapped challengingly. "Revealed, your opinion is,

Qui - Gon!"

The Jedi Master took a deep breath. "I request the boy be tested. "

Again, there was silence as the members of the Council exchanged

glances, communicating without words.

Eyes shifted back to Qui-Gon. "To be trained as a Jedi, you request for

him?" Yoda asked softly.

"Finding him was the will of the Force." Qui-Gon pressed ahead

recklessly. "I have no doubt of it. There is too much happening here for it

to be anything else."

Mace Windu held up one hand, bringing the debate to a close. "Bring him

before us, then."

Yoda nodded somberly, eyes closing. "Tested, he will be."

"It is time to be going, Your Majesty," Senator Palpatine advised,

moving to gather up a pile of data cards from his desk.

Queen Amidala rose, and Anakin hurried back to his seat beside Jar Jar,

giving the Gungan another warning glance for good measure. Jar Jar looked

hurt.

"Me not gonna tell dem," he protested.

A moment later Palpatine ushered the Queen and her handmaidens from his

office and into the antechamber where the boy and the Gungan sat waiting.

The senator went by them without a glance and was out the door immediately.

Queen Amidala slowed just a fraction as she passed Anakin.

"Why don't you come with us," the handmaiden Rabe said without looking

at him, her voice a whisper. "This time you won't have to listen from behind

a door."

Anakin and Jar Jar exchanged a startled, chagrined look, then rose and

followed after. "

17

While the others waited without, Queen Amidala, accompanied by her

handmaidens, retreated to her chambers long enough to change into yet

another ensemble, this one clearly meant to emphasize her status as leader

of the Naboo. She emerged wearing a broad-shouldered cloak of crimson velvet

trimmed with gold lace ~d a crown of woven cloth horns and tassels with a

center plate of hammered gold. The gown and headdress lent both size and

majesty, and she walked past a wondering Anakin and Jar Jar as if come down

out of the clouds to mix with mortals, all cool grace and extraordinary

beauty, aloof and untouchable.

Eirtae and Rabe, the handmaidens who had accompanied her earlier, were

present again, and they trailed the Queen in a silent glide, wrapped in

their crimson hooded robes. Again Anakin looked for Padme and did not

find

her.

"Please lead the way," Amidala requested of Palpatine, beckoning the

boy, the Gungan, and Captain Panaka to accompany them.

They walked from Palpatine's quarters down a series of corridors that

connected to other chambers and, eventually, to other buildings. The halls

were empty of almost everyone, save for a scattering of Republic guards, and

the company proceeded un~ challenged. Anakin glanced around in awe at the

tall ceilings and high windows, at the forest of buildings visible without,

imagining what it would be like to live in a place like Coruscant.

When they reached the Senate chamber, he had cause to wonder anew.

The chamber had the look of an arena, circular and massive, with doors

opening off exterior rampways at various levels above the main floor. At the

center of the chamber a tall, slender column supported the supreme

chancellor's platform, a broad, semienclosed area that allowed Valorum, who

was already present, to sit or stand as he chose in the company of his vice

chair and staff. All around the smooth interior walls of the arena, Senate

boxes jutted from hangar bays off entry doors, some fixed in place while

their senators conferred with staff and visitors, others floating just off

their moorings. When a senator requested permission to speak and was

recognized by the chair, his box would float to the center of the arena,

close to the supreme chancellor's podium, where it remained until the speech

was concluded.

Anakin picked up on all this in a matter of seconds, trailing the Queen

and Palpatine to the entry doors opening onto the Naboo Senate box, which

sat waiting at its docking. Banners and curtains hung from the rounded

ceiling in brilliant streamers, and indirect lighting glowed softly from

every corner, brightening the rotunda's cavernous interior. Droids bustled

along the exterior rampways, carrying messages from one delegation to the

next, the movement of their metal bodies giving the chamber the look of a

complex piece of machinery.

"If the Federation moves to defer the motion, Your Majesty,"

Senator Palpatine was saying to the Queen, his head bent close, his voice low and insistent, "I beg of you to ask for a resolution to end

this session and call for the election of a new supreme chancellor.

"

Amidala did not look at him, continuing to advance toward the Naboo

box. "I wish I had your confidence in this proposal, Senator," she replied

quietly.

"You must force a new election for supreme chancellor,"

Palpatine

pressed. "I promise you there are many who will support us. It is our best

chance." He glanced toward the podium and Valorum. "Our only chance."

A murmur had risen from the assembled as they caught sight of Amidala

standing at the entry to the Naboo box, robes of office flowing out behind

her, head erect, face calm. If she heard the change in tenor of the level of

conversation around her, she gave no sign. Her eyes shifted momentarily to

Palpatine.

"You truly believe Chancellor Valorum will not bring our motion to a

vote?" she asked quietly.

Palpatine shook his head, his high brow furrowing. "He is distracted.

He is afraid. He will be of no help."

Rabe handed a small metal viewscreen to Anakin and Jar Jar and motioned

for them to wait where they were. Stepping into the Senate box with

Palpatine, Amidala was joined by her handmaidens and Panaka. Anakin was

disappointed at not being included, but grateful when he discovered that the

viewscreen Rabe had provided allowed him to see and hear what was happening

in the Naboo box.

"She's going to ask the Senate for help, Jar Jar," he whispered,

leaning over excitedly. "What do you think?"

The Gungan wrinkled up his billed mouth and shook his floppy-eared

head. "Me think dis bombad, Annie. Too many peoples to be agreeing on da one

thing."

The Naboo box detached from its docking and floated a short distance

toward the supreme chancellor's podium, waiting for permission to advance

all the way. Palpatine, Amidala, and the rest of the occupants were seated

now, facing forward.

Valorum nodded his short-cropped white head in the direction of

Palpatine. "The chair recognizes the senator from the sovereign system of

Naboo."

The Naboo box glided to the center of the arena, and Palpatine rose to

his feet, taking in the assemblage with a slow sweeping gaze that drew all

eyes toward his.

"Supreme Chancellor, delegates of the Senate," his voice boomed,

quieting the chamber. "A tragedy has occurred on my homeworld of Naboo.

We

have become caught up in a dispute, one of which you are all well aware.

It

began with a taxation of trade routes and has evolved into an oppressive and

lawless occupation of a peaceful world. The Trade Federation bears

responsibility for this injustice and must be made to answer..."

A second box was rushing forward by now, this one bearing the markings

of the Trade Federation and occupied by the Federation's senator, Lott Dod,

and a handful of trade barons in attendance.

"This is outrageous!" the Trade Federation senator thundered, gesturing

toward the podium and Valorum. A lean, wizened Neimoidian, he loomed out of

the low-railed box like a willowy tree. "I object to Senator Palpatine's

ridiculous assertions and ask that he be silenced at once!"

Valorum's white head swiveled briefly in Lott Dod's direction and one

hand lifted. "The chair does not recognize the senator from the Trade

Federation at this time." The supreme chancellor's voice was soft, but

steady. "Return to your station."

Lott Dod looked as if he might say something more, but then he lowered

himself back into his seat as his box slowly retreated.

"To state our allegations in full," Palpatine continued, "I present

Queen Amidala, the recently elected ruler of the Naboo, to speak on our

behalf."

e stepped aside, and Amidala rose to a light scattering of applause.

Moving to the front of the box, she faced Valorum.

"Honorable

representatives of the Republic, distinguished delegates, and Supreme

Chancellor Valorum. I come to you under the gravest of circumstances.

In

repudiation and violation of the laws of the Republic, the Naboo have been

invaded and subjugated by force by droid armies of the Trade Federation-"

Lott Dod was on his feet again, voice raised angrily. "I object!

This

is nonsense! Where is the proof?" He did not wait for recognition as he

turned to the chamber at large. "I recommend a commission be sent to Naboo

to ascertain the truth of these allegations. "

Valorum shook his head. "Overruled."

Lott Dod sighed heavily and threw up his hands as if with that single

word his life had become hopeless. "Your Honor, you cannot allow us to be

condemned without granting our request for an impartial observation. It is

against all the rules of procedure! "

He scanned the chamber for help, and there was a murmur of agreement

from the delegates. A third box glided forward to join those of Naboo and

the Trade Federation. The chair recognized Aks Moe, the senator from the

planet of Malastare.

Stocky and slow moving, his three eyestalks waving gently, Aks Moe put

the thick, heavy pads of his hands on his hips. "The senator from Malastare

concurs with the honorable delegate from the Trade Federation." His voice

was thick and gnarly. "A commission, once requested, must be appointed,

where there is a dispute of the sort we have encountered here. It is the

law."

Valorum hesitated. "The point is..."

He trailed off uncertainly, left the sentence unfinished, and turned to

confer with his vice chair, identified on the printed register as Mas

Amedda. Amedda was of a species Anakin had never encountered, human

in form,

but with a head swollen by a pillow of cushioning tissue narrowing into a

pair of tentacles that drooped over either shoulder and feelers that jutted

from above the forehead. Together with their aides, the chair and vice chair

engaged in a hurried discussion. Anakin and Jar Jar exchanged worried

glances as Palpatine's voice reached them through the handheld viewscreen's

tiny speaker.

"Enter the bureaucrats, the true rulers of the Republic, and on the

payroll of the Trade Federation, I might add," he was whispering to the

Queen. Anakin could see their heads bent close. Palpatine's tone was heavy.

"This is where Chancellor Valorum's strength will disappear."

Valorum had moved back to the podium, a worn look on his face.

"The

point is conceded. Section 523A takes precedence here." He nodded in the

direction of the Naboo box. "Queen Amidala of the Naboo, will you defer your

motion in order to allow a Senate commission to explore the validity of your

accusations? "

Anakin could see the Queen stiffen in surprise, and when she spoke, her

voice was edged with anger and determination. "I will not defer,"

she

declared, eyes locked on Valorum. "I have come before you to resolve this

attack on Naboo sovereignty now. I was not elected Queen to watch my people

suffer and die while you discuss this invasion in committee. If the

chancellor is not capable of action, I suggest new leadership is needed."

She paused. "I move for a vote of no confidence in the supreme chancellor."

Voices rose immediately in response, some in support, some in protest.

Senators and spectators alike came to their feet, loud mutterings quickly

building to shouts that echoed through the cavernous chamber. Valorum stood

speechless at the podium, stunned and disbelieving. He stared at Amidala,

his face etched in sudden shock as the impact of her words registered.

Amidala faced him boldly, waiting.

Mas Amedda moved in front of Valorum, taking charge of the podium.

"Order!" he bellowed, his strange head swelling. "We shall have order!"

The assembly quieted then, and the delegates reseated themselves,

responding to Amedda's command. Anakin noted that the Trade Federation box

had maneuvered into position close beside the Naboo box. Lott Dod

exchanged

a quick glance with Palpatine, but neither spoke.

A new box floated to the center of the chamber, and the vice chair

recognized Edcel Bar Gan, the senator from Roona. "Roona seconds the motion

for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum," Bar Gan intoned in a

sibilant. voice.

Mas Amedda did not look pleased. "The motion has been seconded."

He turned now to Valorum, speaking quickly to him, keeping his voice

low and his words hidden behind his hand. Valorum looked at him

uncomprehendingly, eyes distant and lost.

"There must be no delays," Aks Moe of Malastare declared in a loud

voice, drawing Mas Amedda's attention back to him. "The motion is on the

floor and must be voted on at once."

Lott Dod was back on his feet. "I move the motion be sent to the

procedures committee for further study-"

The Republic Senate erupted anew, chanting loudly, "Vote now!

Vote

now!" Mas Amedda was deep in discussion with Supreme Chancellor Valorum,

hands on his shoulders as if to bring him back from wherever he'd gone by

sheer force of determination.

"You see, Your Majesty, the tide is with us," Anakin heard Palpatine

announce quietly to the Queen. The boy's eyes dropped to the viewscreen.

"Valorum will be voted out, I assure you, and they will elect a new

chancellor, a strong chancellor, one who will not let our tragedy be

ignored..."

Mas Amedda was back at the podium, addressing the chamber. "The supreme

chancellor requests a recess."

Shouts rose from the delegates, echoing across the chamber in waves as

Valorum stared at Senator Palpatine and Queen Amidala, and even from where

he stood watching now at the entry doors to the Naboo box, Anakin Skywalker

could discern the look of betrayal registered on the supreme chancellor's

anguished face.

Less than an hour later, Anakin burst through the open doors of the

Queen's antechamber in search of Padme and found himself face-to-face with

Amidala instead. The Queen was standing alone in the center of the room, her

eyes directed toward him, her robed form radiant and solitary.

"Excuse me," Anakin said quickly. "Your Majesty."

She nodded silently, white face smooth and perfect.

"I was looking for Padme," he continued, standing rooted in place just

inside the doorway, undecided on whether to stay or go. He glanced around

doubtfully. "Qui-Gon says he will take me before the Jedi Council. I wanted

Padme to know."

A small smile flitted across the Queen's painted lips. "Padme isn't

here, Anakin. I sent her on an errand."

"Oh," he said quietly.

"But I will give her your message."

The boy grinned. "Maybe I will become a Jedi Knight!" he exclaimed,

unable to contain his excitement.

Amidala nodded. "Maybe you will."

"I think Padme would like that."

"I think she would, too."

Anakin backed away. "I didn't mean to..." He searched for the word and

couldn't find it.

"Good luck, Anakin," the Queen said softly. "Do well."

He wheeled away with a broad smile and was out the door.

The day passed quickly for Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and sunset

found them standing together on a balcony outside the Jedi Temple

overlooking Coruscant. Neither had said anything to the other for some time.

They had collected Anakin Skywalker from Senator Palpatine's quarters

following his return from the Republic Senate and brought him before the

Council for examination. Now they were awaiting a decision.

As far as Obi-Wan was concerned, it was a foregone conclusion.

The

young Jedi was frustrated and embarrassed for his Master, who had clearly

overstepped his bounds once again. Qui-Gon had been right in his suspicion

that the boy was possessed of an inordinately high midichlorian count.

Obi-Wan had run the test himself. But that alone was not enough to

demonstrate Anakin was the chosen one. If there even was such a one, which

Obi-Wan seriously doubted. There were hundreds of these old prophecies

and legends, handed down through the centuries as a part of Jedi lore.

In

any case, Qui-Gon was relying on instinct once again, and instinct was

useful only if born of the Force and not of emotion. Qui-Gon was insistent

on championing the causes of underdogs, of empathizing with creatures he

found in some peculiar, inscrutable way he alone could comprehend

significant in the scheme of things. Obi-Wan studied his mentor

surreptitiously. Why did he insist on pursuing these hopeless causes?

The

Council might find the boy possessed of more midichlorians than normal, but

they would never accept him for Jedi training. The rules were clear and

established, and the reasons supporting them were proven and unassailable.

Training for the order after more than a year of life was doomed to fail.

At

nine years of age, Anakin Skywalker was simply too old.

But Qui-Gon would not let it go. He would brace the Council once again,

and the result would be the same as it had been on so many other occasions:

Qui-Gon would be denied and his stature as a Jedi Master would fall a little

further.

Obi-Wan moved to where the older Jedi stood staring out at the endless

horizon of skyscrapers. He stood close to him, silent for a moment longer

before speaking.

"The boy will not pass the Council's tests, Master," he said softly,

"and you know it. He is far too old."

Qui-Gon kept his gaze directed toward the sunset. "Anakin will become a

Jedi, I promise you."

Obi-Wan sighed wearily. "Don't defy the Council, Master. Not again."

The older man seemed to go very still, perhaps even to stop breathing,

before he turned to his protege. "I will do what I must, Obi-Wan. Would you

have me be any other way?"

"Master, you could be sitting on the Council by now if you would just

follow the code. You deserve to be sitting on the Council." Obi-Wan's

frustration surfaced in a burst of momentary anger. His eyes sought the

other's and held them. "They will not go along with you this time."

Qui-Gon Jinn studied him a moment, then smiled. "You still have much to

learn, my young Padawan."

Obi-Wan bit off his reply and looked away, thinking to himself that

Qui-Gon was right, but that maybe this time he should consider taking his

own advice.

Inside, Anakin Skywalker faced the Jedi Council, standing in the same

place Qui-Gon Jinn had stood some hours earlier. He was nervous at first,

brought into the chamber by Qui-Gon, then left alone with the twelve members

of the Council. Standing in the mosaic circle and ringed by the silent

assemblage, awestruck and uncertain of what was expected of him, he felt

vulnerable and exposed. The eyes of the Jedi were distant as they viewed

him, but he sensed they were looking not past him, but inside.

They began to question him then, without preliminary introductions or

explanations, without expending any effort at all to make him feel

comfortable or welcome. He knew some of them by name, for Qui-Gon had

described a few, and he was quick to put faces to names. They questioned him

at great length, testing memory and knowledge, seeking insights at which he

could only guess. They knew of his existence as a slave. They knew of his

background on Tatooine, of his mother and his friends, of his Podracing, of

Watto, of everything factual and past, of the order of his life.

Now Mace Windu was looking at a screen the boy could not see, and

Anakin was giving names to images that flashed across its liquid surface.

Images appeared in Anakin's mind with such speed he was reminded of the

strange blur of desert and mountains whipping past his cockpit during a

Podrace.

"A bantha. A hyperdrive. A proton blaster." The images whizzed through

his mind as he named them off. "A Republic cruiser. A Rodian cup. A Hutt

speeder."

The screen went blank, and Mace looked up, at the boy.

"Good, good, young one," the wizened alien called Yoda praised.

The

sleepy eyes fixed on him, intent behind their lids. "How feel you?"

"Cold, sir," Anakin confessed.

"Afraid, are you?"

The boy shook his head. "No, sir."

"Afraid to give up your life?" the dark one called Mace Windu asked,

leaning forward slightly.

"I don't think so," he answered, then hesitated. Something about the

answer didn't feel right.

Yoda blinked and his long ears cocked forward. "See through you, we

can," he said quietly.

"Be mindful of your feelings," Mace Windu said.

The old one called Ki-Adi-Mundi stroked his beard. "Your thoughts dwell

on your mother."

Anakin felt his stomach lurch at the mention of her. He bit his lip.

"I

miss her."

Yoda exchanged glances with several others on the Council. "Afraid to

lose her, I think."

Anakin flushed. "What's that got to do with anything?" he asked

defensively.

Yoda's sleepy eyes fixed on him. "Everything. To the dark side, fear

leads. To anger and to hate. To suffering."

"I am not afraid!" the boy snapped irritably, anxious to leave this

discussion and move on.

Yoda did not seem to hear him. "The deepest commitment, a Jedi must

have. The most serious mind. Much fear in you, I sense, young one."

Anakin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When he spoke, his

voice was calm again. "I am not afraid."

Yoda studied him a moment. "Then continue, we will," he said softly,

and the examination resumed.

18

Jar Jar Binks of the Gungans and Queen Amidala of the Naboo stood

together at a window that ran floor to ceiling in the Queen's chambers,

looking out at the gleaming spires of Coruscant. An odd pairing at best, the

Queen regal and composed, the Gungan awkward and jittery, they kept company

in silence and watched the sunset color the sky a brilliant gold that

reflected here and there off the flat metal and glass surfaces of the city

in sudden, blinding explosions of light.

They had returned from the Republic Senate some hours ago, Jar Jar,

Anakin, the Queen, and her handmaidens. They had come back principally

because there seemed to be nothing else they could do to change the course

of events regarding the future of Naboo. Senator Palpatine had stayed behind

to politick with his colleagues over the selection of a new supreme

chancellor, and Captain Panaka had remained with him, asked by the Queen to

bring her news when there was any to offer. None had been forthcoming as

yet. Now Anakin was gone as well, taken by Qui-Gon to the Jedi Temple where

he was to meet with the Council, and no one had seen Padme in some time.

So Jar Jar had rattled around in Palpatine's quarters rather like a

stray kaadu until Amidala had taken pity on him and invited him to sit with

her. She had gone into seclusion on her return, changing out of her Senate

robes into a less imposing goldtrimmed black gown that emphasized how

slender and small she really was. She wore an inverted, crescent-shaped

crown with a beaded gold medallion arced down over her smooth forehead, but

even so she stood several centimeters shorter than the Gungan.

She was clearly in pain, her eyes so sad and distant that it made Jar

Jar want to comfort her. Ifit had been Annie or Padme, he might have reached

over and patted her on the head, but he was not about to try that with the

Queen. There were no guards, but her handmaidens, Eirtae and Rabe, cloaked

in their crimson hooded robes and forever watchful, stood in waiting near

the door, and he was certain there were guards somewhere close as well.

He

was careless of many things, oblivious to others, and in general given over

to enjoying life in a haphazard way, but he was no fool.

Finally, though, he could ignore the situation no longer. He shuffled

his feet and cleared his throat, drawing the Queen's attention. She turned,

her white-painted face with red dots on each cheek and a red slash in the

center of her lower lip doll-like and expressionless.

"Me wonder sometimes why da Guds invent pain," he offered

sympathetically.

Amidala's cool gaze was steady and clear. "To motivate us, I imagine."

"Yous think yous people gonna die?" he asked, working his billed mouth

around the bitter words as if he could taste them.

The Queen considered the question and shook her head slowly. "I don't

know, Jar Jar."

"Gungans gonna get pasted, too, eh?"

"I hope not."

Jar Jar straightened, and a fierce pride brightened his eyes.

"Gungans

no die without a fight. We warriors! We gotta grand army!"

"An army?" she repeated, a hint of surprise in her soft voice.

"A grand army! Lotta Gungans. Dey come from all over. Dat why no swamp

beings give us trubble. Too many Gungans. Gotta big energy shields, too.

Nutten get through. Gotta energy balls, fly outta slings and splat

electricity and goo. Bombad stuff. Gungans no ever give up to maccaneks or

anyone!"

He paused, shrugged uncomfortably. "Dat why Naboo no like us, mebbe."

She was studying him closely now, her detached gaze replaced by

something more intense, as if she were turning an unexpected thought over in

her mind. She was preparing to speak to that thought, he believed, when

Senator Palpatine and Captain Panaka strode through the doorway in a rush.

"Your Highness," Captain Panaka greeted, barely able to contain his

excitement as both men bowed quickly and straightened. "Senator Palpatine

has been nominated to succeed Valorum as supreme chancellor!"

Palpatine's smile was contained and deferential, and his voice

carefully modulated as he spoke. "A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one.

I promise, Your Majesty, if I am elected, I will restore democracy to the

Republic. I will put an end to the corruption that has plagued the Senate.

The Trade Federation will lose its influence over the bureaucrats, and our

people will be freed from the tyranny of this unlawful and onerous

invasion-"

"Who else has been nominated?" Amidala asked abruptly, cutting him

short.

"Bail Antilles of Alderaan and Aks Moe of Malastare," Panaka told her,

avoiding Palpatine's eyes.

The senator was quick to recover from the unexpected interruption of

his speech. "Your Majesty, I feel confident that our situation will generate

strong support for us when the voting takes place tomorrow." He paused

meaningfully. "I will be chancellor, I promise you."

The Queen did not look impressed. She moved past Jar Jar to the window

and stared out at the lights of the city as they brightened with the fading

of the sunset. "I fear by the time you have taken control of the

bureaucrats, Senator, there will be nothing left of our cities, our people,

or our way of life to salvage."

Palpatine looked taken aback. "I understand your concern, Your Majesty.

Unfortunately, the Federation has seized possession of our planet. It will

be nearly impossible to immediately dislodge them."

"Perhaps." Amidala turned from the window to face him. Her eyes were

bright with anger and determination. "With the Senate in transition, there

is nothing more I can do here." She walked to where he stood with Panaka.

"Senator, this is your arena. I must return now to mine. I have decided to

go back to Naboo. My place is with my people."

"Go back!" Palpatine was aghast, his pale face stricken. Panaka looked

quickly from one to the other. "But, Your Majesty, be realistic! You will be

in great danger! They will force you to sign the treaty!"

The Queen was calm and composed. "I will sign no treaty.

My fate will be no different from that of my people." She turned to

Panaka. "Captain!"

Panaka snapped to attention. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"Ready my ship."

Palpatine stepped forward quickly to intercept her. "Please, Your

Majesty. Stay here, where it is safe."

Amidala's voice was edged with iron. "No place is safe, if the Senate

doesn't condemn this invasion. It is clear to me now that the Republic no

longer functions." Her eyes locked on his. "If you win the election,

Senator, I know you will do everything possible to stop the Federation.

I

pray you will find a way to restore sanity and compassion to the Republic."

She moved past him in a smooth, gliding motion and was out the door,

her handmaidens and Panaka at her heels. Jar Jar Binks followed, shuffling

after as unobtrusively as he could manage, glancing just once at Palpatine

in passing.

He was surprised to catch the barest glimpse of a smile on the

senator's shrewd face.

In the Temple of the Jedi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin

Skywalker stood before the Council of twelve. Clustered together at the

center of the speaker's platform, they faced the circle of chairs in which

the members of the Council were seated, and awaited their decision on the

boy. Outside, the light was pale and wan as twilight replaced sunset, and

night began its slow descent across the city.

"Finished, we are, with our examination of the boy," Yoda advised in

his guttural, whispery voice. His eyes were lidded and sleepy, his pointed

ears pricked forward. "Correct, you were, Qui-Gon."

Mace Windu nodded his concurrence, his dark, smooth face expressionless

in the dim light. "His cells contain a very high concentration of

midichlorians." There was emphasis on the word very as he spoke.

"The Force is strong in him," Ki-Adi-Mundi agreed.

Qui-Gon felt a rush of satisfaction on hearing the words, a vindication

of his insistence on freeing the boy from his life on Tatooine and bringing

him here. "He is to be trained, then," he declared in triumph.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the Council members looked from

one to the other.

"No," Mace Windu said quietly. "He will not be trained."

Anakin's face crumpled, and there were tears in his eyes as he glanced

quickly at Qui-Gon.

"No?" the Jedi Master repeated in disbelief, shocked almost speechless.

He tried hard to ignore the I-told-you-so look on Obi-Wan's young face.

Mace Windu nodded, dark eyes steady. "He is too old. There is already

too much anger in him."

Qui-Gon was incensed, but he held himself in check. This decision made

no sense. It could not be allowed to stand. "He is the chosen one,"

he

insisted vehemently. "You must see it!"

Yoda cocked his round head contemplatively. "Clouded, this boy's future

is. Masked by his youth."

Qui-Gon searched the faces of the other members of the Jedi Council,

but found no help. He straightened and nodded his acceptance of their

decision. "Very well. I will train him then. I take Anakin Skywalker as my

Padawan apprentice."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Obi-Wan stiffen in shock. He saw,

as well, the sudden flicker of hope that crossed

Anakin's face. He did not respond to either, keeping his gaze directed

toward the Council.

"An apprentice, you already have, Qui-Gon," Yoda pointed out sharply.

"Impossible, to take on a second."

"We forbid it," Mace Windu advised darkly.

"Obi-Wan is ready," Qui-Gon declared.

"I am!" his protege agreed heatedly, trying unsuccessfully to mask his

surprise and disappointment in his mentor's unexpected decision. "I am ready

to face the trials!"

Yoda's sleepy eyes shifted. "Ready so early, are you? What know you of

ready?"

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged quick, hard looks, and the measure of

their newfound antagonism was palpable. The breach in their relationship was

widening so quickly it could no longer be mapped.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and turned back to the Council. "Obi-Wan is

headstrong, and he has much to learn still about the living Force, but he is

capable. There is little more he will learn from me."

Yoda shook his wizened face. "Our own counsel we will keep on who is

ready, Qui-Gon. More to learn, he has."

"Now is not the time for this," Mace Windu stated with finality.

"The

Senate will vote tomorrow for a new supreme chancellor. Queen Amidala

returns home, we are advised, which will put pressure on the Federation and

could widen the confrontation. Those responsible will be quick to act on

these new events."

"Drawn out of hiding, her attackers will be," Yoda whispered.

"Events are moving too fast for distractions such as this,"

Ki-Adi-Mundi added.

Mace Windu took a quick look about at the others sitting on the

Council, then turned once more to Qui-Gon. "Go with the Queen to Naboo and

discover the identity of this dark warrior who attacked you, be it Sith or

otherwise. That is the clue we need to unravel this mystery."

Yoda's nod was slow and brooked no argument. "Decided later, young

Skywalker's fate will be."

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, filled with frustration and disappointment

at the unexpected turn of events. Anakin would not be trained, even though

he had offered to take the boy as his Padawan. Worse, he had offended

Obi-Wan, not intentionally perhaps, but deeply nevertheless. The rift was

not permanent, but it would take time for the younger man's pride to

heal-time they could not afford.

He bowed his acquiescence to the Council. "I brought Anakin here; he

must stay in my charge. He has nowhere else to go."

Mace Windu nodded. "He is your ward, Qui-Gon. We do not dispute that."

"But train him not!" Yoda admonished sharply. "Take him with you, but

train him not!"

The words stung, the force behind them unmistakable. Qui-Gon flinched

inwardly, but said nothing.

"Protect the Queen," Mace Windu added. "But do not intercede if it

comes to war until we have the Senate's approval."

There was a long silence as the members of the Council regarded Qui-Gon

Jinn gravely. He stood there, trying to think of something more to say, some

other argument to offer. Outside, the last of the twilight faded into

darkness, and the lights of the city began to blink on like watchful eyes.

"May the Force be with you," Yoda said finally, signaling to the Jedi

Master that the audience was over.

The Jedi and the boy, having been made aware of Amidala's imminent

departure for Naboo, went directly to the landing platform where the Queen's

transport was anchored to await her arrival. The shuttle ride over was

marked by a strained silence between the Jedi and a discomfort in the boy he

could not dispel. He looked down at his feet most of the time, wishing he

could think of a way to stop Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan from being angry at each

other.

When they disembarked from the shuttle at the landing platform, R2-D2

was already bustling about. The little droid beeped at Anakin cheerfully,

then wandered over to the edge of the rampway to look down at the traffic.

In doing so, he leaned out too far and tumbled over. Anakin gasped, but a

second later the astromech droid reappeared, boosted back onto the rampway

by his onboard jets. On hearing R2-D2's ensuing flurry of chirps and

whistles, the boy smiled in spite of himself.

At the head of the loading ramp, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi were

engaged in a heated discussion. Wind whipped down the canyons of the city's

towering buildings, hiding their words from the boy. Carefully, he edged

closer so that he could listen in.

"It is not disrespect, Master!" Obi-Wan was saying vehemently. "It is

the truth!"

"From your point of view, perhaps." Qui-Gon's face was hard and tight

with anger.

The younger Jedi's voice dropped a notch. "The boy is dangerous.

They

all sense it. Why can't you?"

"His fate is uncertain, but he is not dangerous," Qui-Gon corrected

sharply. "The Council will decide Anakin's future. That should be enough for

you." He turned away dismissively.

"Now get on board!"

Obi-Wan wheeled away and stalked up the ramp into the ship.

R2-D2

followed, still whistling happily. Qui-Gon turned to Anakin, and the boy

walked up to him.

"Master Qui-Gon," he said uncomfortably, riddled with doubt and guilt

over what was happening, "I don't want to be a problem. "

Qui-Gon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You won't be,

Annie." He glanced toward the ship, then knelt before the boy. "I'm not

allowed to train you, so I want you to watch me instead and be mindful of

what you see. Always remember, your focus determines your reality."

He

paused, eyes locked on Anakin. "Stay close to me, and you will be safe."

The boy nodded his understanding. "Can I ask you something?" The Jedi

Master nodded. "What are midichlorians?"

Wind whipped at Qui-Gon's long hair, blowing strands of it across his

strong face. "Midichlorians are microscopic life-forms that reside within

the cells of all living things and communicate with the Force."

"They live inside of me?" the boy asked.

"In your cells." Qui-Gon paused. "We are symbionts with the

midichlorians. "

"Symbi-what?"

"Symbionts. Life-forms living together for mutual advantage.

Without

the midichlorians, life could not exist, and we would have no knowledge of

the Force. Our midichlorians continually speak to us, Annie, telling us the

will of the Force."

"They do?"

Qui-Gon cocked one eyebrow. "When you learn to quiet your mind, you

will hear them speaking to you."

Anakin thought about it a moment, then frowned. "I don't understand."

Qui-Gon smiled, and his eyes were warm and secretive. "With time and

training, Annie, you will."

A pair of shuttles eased up to the loading dock, and Queen Amidala, her

handmaidens, Captain Panaka, and an escort of officers and guards

disembarked. Last off the second shuttle was Jar Jar Binks. Amidala was

wearing a purple velvet travel cloak that draped her body in soft folds and

a gold-rimmed cowl that framed her smooth white face like a cameo portrait.

Qui-Gon rose and stood waiting beside Anakin as the Queen and her

handmaidens approached.

"Your Highness," Qui-Gon greeted with a deferential inclination of his

head. "It will be our pleasure to continue to serve and protect you."

Amidala nodded. "I welcome your help. Senator Palpatine fears the

Federation means to destroy me."

"I promise you, we will not let that happen," the Jedi Master advised

solemnly.

The Queen turned and with her handmaidens followed Panaka and the Naboo

guards and officers into the transport.

Jar Jar hurried over and enveloped Anakin in a huge hug. "Weesa goen

home, Annie!" he exclaimed with a grin, and Anakin Skywalker hugged.

him

back.

Moments later they were all aboard, and the sleek transport had lifted

off, leaving Coruscant behind.

***

It was night in the Naboo capital city of Theed, the streets empty and

silent save for the occasional passing of battle-droid patrols and the

whisper of the wind. In the Queen's throne room, Nute Gunray and Rune Haako

stood attentively before a hologram of Darth Sidious. The hologram filled

the space at one end of the room, rising up before them menacingly.

The dark-cloaked figure at its center gestured. "The Queen is on her

way to you," the Sith Lord intoned softly. "When she arrives, force her to

sign the treaty."

There was a momentary pause as the Neimoidians exchanged worried looks.

"Yes, my lord," Nute Gunray agreed reluctantly.

"Viceroy, is the planet secure?" The dark figure in the hologram

shimmered with movement.

"Yes, my lord." Gunray was on firmer ground here. "We have taken the

last pockets of resistance, consisting of mostly primitive life-forms.

We

are now in complete control."

The faceless speaker nodded. "Good. I will see to it that in the Senate

things stay as they are. I am sending Darth Maul to join you. He will deal

with the Jedi."

"Yes, my lord." The words were a litany.

The hologram and Darth Sidious faded away. The Neimoidians stood where

they were, frozen in place.

"A Sith Lord, here with us?" Rune Haako whispered in disbelief, and

this time Nute Gunray had nothing to say at all.

19

Aboard the Queen's transport, coming out of hyperspace and approaching

the Naboo star system, Qui-Gon Jinn paused on his way to a meeting with the

Queen to study Anakin Skywalker.

The boy stood at the pilot's console next to Ric Olie. The Naboo pilot

was bent forward over the controls, pointing each one out in turn and

explaining its function. Anakin was absorbing the information with

astonishing quickness, brow furrowed, eyes intense, concentration total.

"And that one?" The boy pointed.

"The forward stabilizer." Ric Olie glanced up at him expectantly,

waiting.

"And those control the pitch?" Anakin indicated a bank of levers by the

pilot's right hand.

Ric Olie's weathered face broke into a grin. "You catch on pretty

quick."

As quick as anyone he had ever encountered, Qui-Gon Jinn thought.

That

was the reason Anakin was so special. It gave evidence of his high

midichlorian count. It suggested anew that he was the chosen one.

The Jedi Master sighed. Why could the Council not accept that this was

so? Why were they so afraid of taking a chance on the boy, when the signs

were so clear?

Qui-Gon found himself frustrated all over again. He understood their

thinking. It was bad that Anakin was so old, but not fatal to his chances.

What troubled them was not his age, but the conflict they sensed within

him.

Anakin was wrestling with his parentage, with his separation from his

mother, his friends, and his home. Especially his mother. He was old enough

to appreciate what might happen, and the result was an uncertainty that

worked within him like a caged animal seeking to break free. The Jedi

Council knew that it could not tame that uncertainty from without, that it

could be mastered only from within. They believed Anakin Skywalker too old

for this, his thinking and his beliefs too settled to be safely reshaped.

He

was vulnerable to his inner conflict, and the dark side would be quick to

take advantage of this.

Qui-Gon shook his head, staring over at the boy from the back of the

cockpit. Yes, there were risks in accepting him as an apprentice. But few

things of worth were accomplished in life without risk. The Jedi order was

founded on strict adherence to established procedures in the raising and

educating of young Jedi, but there were exceptions to all things, even this.

That the Jedi Council was refusing even to consider that this was an

instance in which an exception should be made was intolerable.

Still, he must keep faith, he knew. He must believe. The decision not

to train Anakin would be reconsidered on their return and reversed. If the

Council did not embrace the boy's training as a Jedi voluntarily, then it

would be up to Qui-Gon to find a way to make it do so.

He turned away then and walked from the cabin to the passageways beyond

and descended one level to the Queen's chambers. The others she had called

together for this meeting were already present when he arrived. Obi-Wan gave

him a brief, neutral nod of recognition, standing next to a glowering

Captain Panaka. Jar Jar Binks hugged the wall to one side, apparently trying

to disappear into it. Amidala sat on her shipboard throne on a raised dais

set against one wall, two of her handmaidens, Rabe and Eirtae, flanking her.

Her white-painted face was composed and her gaze cool as it met his own, but

there was fire in the words she spoke next.

"When we land on Naboo," she advised the Jedi Master after he had bowed

and taken up a position next to Panaka, "it is my intention to act on this

invasion at once. My people have suffered enough. "

Panaka could barely contain himself, his dark face tight with anger.

"When we land, Your Highness, the Trade Federation will arrest you and force

you to sign their treaty!"

Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully, curious as to the Queen's thinking.

"I

agree. I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish by this."

Amidala might have been carved from stone. "The Naboo are going to take

back what is ours."

"There are only twelve of us!" Panaka snapped, unable to keep silent.

"Your Highness," he added belatedly. "We have no army!"

Her eyes shifted to Qui-Gon. "The Jedi cannot fight a war for you, Your

Highness," he advised. "We can only protect you."

She let her gaze drift from them to settle on Jar Jar. The Gungan was

studying his toes. "Jar Jar Binks!" she called.

Jar Jar, clearly caught off guard, stiffened. "Me, Your Highness?"

"Yes," Amidala of the Naboo affirmed. "I have need of your help."

Deep in the Naboo swamps, at the edge of the lake that bored downward

to the Gungan capital city of Otoh Gunga, the fugitives from the Queen's

transport were grouped at the water's edge, waiting for the return of Jar

Jar Binks. Amidala and her handmaidens, the Jedi Knights, Captain

Panaka,

Anakin, R2-D2, Ric Olie and several other pilots, and a handful of Naboo

guards clustered uneasily in the misty silence. It was safe to say that even

now no one but the Queen knew exactly what it was she was attempting to do.

All she had been willing to reveal to those in a position to inquire was

that she wished to make contact with the Gungan people and Jar Jar would be

her emissary. She had insisted on landing in the swamp, even after both

Panaka and the Jedi had advised against it.

A single battleship orbited the planet, all that remained of the Trade

Federation blockade. Housed within was the control station responsible for

directing the droid army that occupied Naboo. When Panaka wondered aloud at

the absence of the other battleships, Qui-Gon pointed out rather dryly that

you don't need a blockade once you control the port.

Anakin, standing apart from the others with R2-D2, studied the group

surreptitiously. Jar Jar had been gone a long time, and everyone but the

Queen was growing restless. She stood wrapped in her soft robes, silent and

implacable in the midst of her handmaidens. Padme, Eirtae, and Rabe had

changed from their crimson hooded cloaks into more functional trousers,

tunics, boots, and long - waisted overcoats, and there were blasters

strapped to their waists. The boy had never seen Padme like this, and he

found himself wondering how good a fighter she was.

As if realizing he was thinking of her, Padme broke away from the

others and came over to him.

"How are you, Annie?" she asked quietly, her kind eyes locking on his.

He shrugged. "Okay. I've missed you."

"It's good to see you again. I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to talk

with you before, but I've been very busy."

They hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other since leaving

Tatooine, and Anakin hadn't even seen Padme since their departure from

Coruscant. It had bothered him, but he'd kept it to himself.

"I didn't-I-" he stuttered, looking down at his boots. "They decided

not to make me a Jedi."

He recounted the story for her, detailing the events surrounding his

appearance before the Jedi Council. Padme listened intently, then touched

his cheek with her cool fingers. "They can change their minds, Annie.

Don't

give up hope."

She bent close then. "I have something to tell you. The Queen has made

a painful, difficult decision-a decision that will change everything for the

Naboo. We are a peaceful people, and we do not believe in war. But sometimes

there is no choice. Either you adapt or you die. The Queen understands this.

She has decided to take an aggressive posture with the Trade Federation

army. The Naboo are going to fight to regain their freedom. "

"Will there be a battle?" he asked quickly, trying unsuccessfully to

hide his excitement.

She nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"Will you be involved?" he pressed.

She smiled sadly. "Annie, I don't have a choice."

***

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood together some distance away. The Jedi still

weren't speaking to each other, or only barely so. Their words on the

journey out from Coruscant had been reserved almost exclusively for others.

The hard feelings caused by Qui-Gon's bid to train Anakin did not soften.

The boy had tried to talk to Obi-Wan once aboard the Queen's ship, just to

say he was sorry this had happened, but the younger Jedi had brushed him

off.

Now, though, Obi-Wan was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the

situation. He had been close with Qui-Gon for too long to let a momentary

disagreement put an end to twenty-odd years of friendship. Qui-Gon was like

a father to him, the only father he knew. He was angry that the Jedi Master

would dismiss him so abruptly in favor of the boy, but he realized, too, the

depth of Qui-Gon's passion when he believed in something. Training this boy

to be a Jedi was a cause Qui-Gon championed as he had championed no other in

Obi-Wan's memory. He did not do so to slight his protege. He did so because

he believed in the boy's destiny.

Obi-Wan understood. Who could say? Perhaps this time Qui-Gon was right.

Perhaps Anakin Skywalker's training was a cause worth fighting for.

"I've been thinking," Qui-Gon announced suddenly, keeping his voice

low, his eyes directed toward the others. "We are treading on dangerous

ground. If the Queen intends to fight a war, we cannot become involved.

Not

even in her efforts to persuade the Gungans to join with the Naboo against

the Federation, if that is what she intends by coming here. The Jedi have no

authority to take sides."

"But we do have authority to protect the Queen," Obi-Wan pointed out.

Qui-Gon's eyes shifted to find his. "It is a fine line we walk, then."

"Master," Obi-Wan said, facing him now. "I behaved badly on Coruscant,

and I am embarrassed. I meant no disrespect to you. I do not wish to be

difficult in the matter of the boy."

"Nor have you been," the older Jedi replied, a faint smile appearing.

"You have been honest with me. Honesty is never wrong. I did not lie when I

told the Council you were ready. You are. I have taught you all I can.

You

will be a great Jedi, my young Padawan. You will make me proud."

They gripped hands impulsively, and as quickly as that the breach that

had opened between them was closed.

Moments later, a dark shape broke the surface of the water with a

splash, and Jar Jar Binks climbed from the lake, shaking water from his

amphibious skin onto the assembled. Long ears dripping, billed mouth

shedding water like a duck's, he shook his head worriedly.

"Tis nobody dere! Deys all gone!" His eyestalks swiveled. "Some kinda

fight, deys have. Maccaneks, mebbe. Very bombad. Otoh Gunga empty.

All

Gungans gone. All gone."

"Do you think they have been taken to the camps?" Panaka asked quickly,

glancing around at the group.

"More likely they were wiped out," Obi-Wan offered in disgust.

But Jar Jar shook his head. "Me no think so. Gungans too smart. Go into

hiding. When dey in trubble, go to sacred place. Maccaneks no find dem

dere."

Qui-Gon stepped forward. "Sacred place?" he repeated. "Can you take us

there, Jar Jar?"

The Gungan sighed heavily, as if to say "Here we go again,"

and

beckoned for them to follow.

They traversed the swamp for some time, first skirting the lake, then

plunging deep into a forest of massive trees and tall grasses, following a

water-screened pathway that connected a series of knolls. Somewhere in the

distance, Trade Federation STAPs buzzed and whined as a search for the

transport fugitives commenced in earnest. Jar Jar glanced about

apprehensively as he picked his way through the mire, but did not slow.

Finally, they emerged in a clearing of marshy grasses and stands of

trees with roots tangled so thickly they formed what appeared to be an

impassable hedge. Jar Jar stopped, sniffed the air speculatively, and

nodded. "Dissen it."

He lifted his head and made a strange chittering noise though his

billed mouth, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. The group waited,

eyes searching the misty gloom.

Suddenly Captain Tarpals and a scouting party of Gungans riding kaadu

emerged from the haze, electropoles and energy spears held at the ready.

"Heydey ho, Cap'n Tarpals," Jar Jar greeted cheerfully.

"Binks!" the Gungan leader exclaimed in disbelief. "Notta gain!"

Jar Jar shrugged nonchalantly. "We come ta see da Boss!"

Tarpals rolled his eyes. "Ouch time, Binks. Ouch time for alla yous,

mebbe. "

Herding them together, Gungans on kaadu providing a perimeter escort on

all sides, Tarpals led them deeper into the swamp. The canopy formed by the

limbs of the trees became so thick that the sky and the sun almost

disappeared. Bits and pieces of statuary began to surface, crumbling stone

facades and plinths sinking in the mire. Vines snaked their way across the

broken remains, dropping down from limbs that twisted and wound together in

vast wooden nets.

Pushing through a high stand of saw grass, they arrived in a clearing

filled with Gungan refugees-men, women, and children of all ages and

descriptions, huddled together on a broad, dry rise, many with their

possessions gathered around them. Tarpals led the company past the refugees

to where the ruins of what had once been a grand temple were being slowly

reclaimed by the swamp. Platforms and stairs were all that remained intact,

the columns and ceilings having long ago collapsed and broken apart.

The

massive heads and limbs of stone statues poked out of the mire, fingers

clutching weapons and eyes staring sightlessly into space.

At the far end of the ruins, Boss Nass appeared, lumbering out of

shadows with several more of the Gungan council to stand atop a stone head

partially submerged in the water. Amidala and her retinue approached to

within hailing distance over a network of causeways and islands.

"Jar Jar Binks, whadda yous doen back?" Boss Nass rumbled angrily.

"Yous suppose ta take dese outlanders and no come back! Yous pay good dis

time!" The fleshy head swiveled. "Who yous bring here ta da Gungan sacred

place?"

The Queen stepped forward at once, white face lifting. "I am Amidala,

Queen of the Naboo."

"Naboo!" Boss Nass thundered. "No like da Naboo! Yous bring da

maccaneks! Dey bust up our homes! Dey drive us all out!" A heavy arm lifted,

pointing at the Queen. "Yous all bombad! Yous all die, mebbe!"

Anakin noticed suddenly that they were completely surrounded by

Gungans, some on kaadu, some on foot, all with electropoles, energy spears,

and some sort of throwing device. Captain Panaka and the Naboo guards were

looking around nervously, hands straying toward their blasters. The Jedi

flanked the Queen and her handmaidens, but their arms hung loose at their

sides.

"We wish to form an alliance with you," Amidala tried again.

"We no form nutten wit da Naboo!" Boss Nass roared angrily.

Abruptly Padme detached herself from the others and stepped in front of

the Queen. "You did well, Sabe. But I will have to do this myself," she said

quietly, and turned to face Boss Nass.

"Who dis?" the head Gungan snapped.

Standing next to Anakin, R2-D2 beeped softly in recognition. The droid

had figured it out first.

Padme straightened. "I am Queen Amidala," she announced in a loud,

clear voice. "Sabe serves from time to time as my decoy, my loyal bodyguard.

I am sorry for my deception, but given the circumstances, I am sure you can

understand." She turned to the Jedi, her eyes shifting momentarily to find

Anakin. "Gentlemen, I apologize for misleading you."

Her eyes returned quickly to Boss Nass, who was frowning suspiciously,

clearly not understanding any of what was happening. "Although our people do

not always agree, Your Honor," she continued, her voice softening, "we have

always lived in peace. Until now. The Trade Federation, with its tanks and

its 'maccaneks,' has destroyed all that we have worked so hard to build.

The

Gungans are in hiding, and the Naboo have been imprisoned in camps. If we do

not act quickly, all that we value will be lost forever."

She stretched out her hands. "I ask you to help us, Your Honor."

She

paused. "No, I beg you to help us." She dropped abruptly to one knee in

front of the astonished leader of the Gungans. There was an audible gasp of

surprise from the Naboo. "We are your humble servants, Your Honor,"

Padme

said so that all could hear. "Our fate is in your hands. Please help us."

She motioned, and one by one, her handmaidens, Panaka, and the Naboo

pilots and guards dropped to their knees beside her. Anakin and the Jedi

were the last to join them. Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin saw Jar Jar

standing virtually alone in their midst, staring around in wonderment and

shock.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then a slow, deep rumble of

laughter rose out of the throat of Boss Nass. "Ho, ho, ho! Me like ills!

Dis

good! Yous no think yous greater den da Gungans!"

The head Gungan came forward, reaching out with one hand. "Yous stand,

Queen Amidoll. Yous talk wit me, okay? Mebbe we gonna be friends after all!"

The senior Sith Lord appeared in a shimmer of robes and shadows as his

protege and the Neimoidians walked slowly down the corridor leading from the

throne room back to the plaza. "We have sent out patrols," Nute Gunray said,

concluding his report to the ominous figure in the projection. "We have

already located their starship in the swamp. It won't be long until we have

them in hand, my lord."

Darth Sidious was silent. For a moment Nute Gunray was afraid he hadn't

been heard. "This is an unexpected move for the Queen," the Sith Lord said

at last, his voice so low it could barely be heard. "It is too aggressive.

Lord Maul, be mindful."

"Yes, Master," the other Sith growled softly, yellow eyes gleaming.

"Be patient," Darth Sidious purred, head lowered in cowled shadows,

hands folded into black robes. "Let them make the first move."

In silence, Darth Maul and the Neimoidians continued on as the hologram

slowly faded away.

Boss Nass was as mercurial as he was large, and his change of attitude

toward the Naboo was dramatic. Once he decided that the Queen did not

consider herself his superior, that she was in fact quite sincere in her

plea for Gungan help, he was quick to come around. The fact that his dislike

of the battle droids was every bit as strong as hers didn't hurt matters, of

course. Perhaps he had been hasty in his belief that the

"maccaneks"

wouldn't find the Gungans in the swamps. Otoh Gunga had been attacked at

daybreak two days earlier and its inhabitants driven from their homes.

Boss

Nass was not about to sit still for that. If a plan could be put together to

drive the invaders out, the Gungan army would do its part to help.

He took Amidala and her companions out of the swamp to the edge of the

grass plains that ran south to the Naboo capital city of Theed. Any attack

would be mounted from here, and the Queen had come to the Gungans with a

very specific plan of attack in mind.

The first step in that plan involved sending Captain Panaka on a

reconnaissance of the city.

As they stood looking out from the misty confines of the swamp toward

the open grasslands, waiting for Panaka's return, Boss Nass trundled up to

Jar Jar.

"Yous doen grand, Jar Jar Binks!" he rumbled, wrapping a meaty arm

around the slender Gungan's shoulders. "Yous bring da Naboo and da Gungan

together! Tis very brave thing."

Jar Jar shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. "Ah, yous no go

sayendat. Tis nutten."

"No, yous grand warrior!" Boss Nass declared, squeezing the air out of

his compatriot with a massive hug.

"No, no, no," the other persisted bashfully.

"So," Boss Nass concluded brightly, "we make yous bombad general in da

Gungan army!"

"What?" Jar Jar exclaimed in dismay. "General? Me? No, no, no!"

he

gasped, and his eyes rolled up, his tongue fell out, and he fainted dead

away.

Padme was in conference with the Jedi and the Gungan generals, to whose

number Jar Jar Binks had just been added, so Anakin, at loose ends, had

wandered over to keep company with the Gungan sentries who were keeping

lookout for Panaka. The Gungans patrolled the swamp perimeter on kaadu and

kept watch through macro binoculars from treetops and the remains of ancient

statuary, making certain Federation scouting parties didn't come up on them

unexpectedly. Anakin stood at the base of a temple column, still trying to

come to terms with Padme's revelation. Everyone had been surprised, of

course, but no one more than he. He wasn't sure how he felt about her now,

knowing she wasn't just a girl, but a Queen. He had declared he would marry

her someday, believing it so, but how could someone who had been a slave all

his life marry a Queen? He wanted to talk to her, but there wasn't any

opportunity for that here.

He supposed things wouldn't be the same after this, but he wished they

could. He liked her as much now as he had before, and to tell the truth he

didn't care if she was a Queen or not.

He glanced over at the girl and the Jedi Knights and thought how

different things were here than they had been on Tatooine. Nothing had

worked out the way he had hoped for any of them, and it remained to be seen

if leaving his mother and home to come with them was a good idea after all.

The Gungan lookout standing atop a piece of statuary above him gave a

grunt. "Dey comen," he called down, peering out into the grasslands through

his macro binoculars.

Anakin gave a yell in response and raced over to Padme, the Jedi, and

the Gungan generals. "They're back!" he shouted.

Everyone turned to watch a squad of four speeders skim over the flats

and pull to a stop in the concealing shadow of the swamp. Captain Panaka and

several dozen Naboo soldiers, officers, and starfighter pilots jumped down.

Panaka made his way directly to the Queen.

"I think we got through without being detected, Your Highness,"

he

advised quickly, brushing the dust from his clothing.

"What is the situation?" she asked as the others crowded close to them.

Panaka shook his head. "Most of our people are in the detention camps.

A few hundred officers and guards have formed an underground movement to

resist the invasion. I've brought as many of the leaders as I could find."

"Good." Padme nodded appreciatively toward Boss Nass. "The Gungans have

a larger army than we imagined."

"Very, very bombad!" the Gungan chief rumbled.

Panaka exhaled wearily. "You'll need it. The Federation army is much

larger than we thought, too. And stronger." He gave the Queen a considering look. "In my opinion, this isn't a battle we can

win, Your Highness."

Standing at the edge of the circle, Jar Jar Binks looked down at Anakin

and rolled his eyes despairingly.

But Padme was undeterred. "I don't intend to win it, Captain.

The

battle is a diversion. We need the Gungans to draw the droid army away from

Theed, so we can infiltrate the palace and capture the Neimoidian viceroy.

The Trade Federation cannot function without its head. Neimoidians don't

think for themselves. Without the viceroy to command them, they will cease

to be a threat. "

She waited for them to consider her plan, eyes fixing automatically on

Qui - Gon Jinn. "What do you think, Master Jedi?" she asked.

"It is a well-conceived plan," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "It appears to be

your best possible move, Your Highness, although there is great risk.

Even

with the droid army in the field, the viceroy will be well guarded. And many

of the Gungans may be killed."

Boss Nass snorted derisively. "They bombad guns no get through our

shields! We ready to fight!"

Jar Jar gave Anakin another eye roll, but this time Boss Nass saw him

do so and gave his new general a hard warning look.

Padme was thinking. "We could reduce the Gungan casualties by securing

the main hangar and sending our pilots to knock out their orbiting control

ship. Without the control ship to signal them, the droid army can't function

at all."

Everyone nodded in agreement. "But if the viceroy should escape, Your

Highness," Obi-Wan pointed out darkly, "he will return with another droid

army, and you'll be no better off than you are now. Whatever else happens,

you must capture him."

"Indeed, we must," Padme agreed. "Everything depends on it. Cut off the

head, and the serpent dies. Without the viceroy, the Trade Federation

collapses."

They moved on to other matters then, beginning a detailed discussion of

battle tactics and command responsibilities. Anakin stood listening for a

moment, then eased his way close to Qui-Gon and tugged on his sleeve.

"What about me?" he asked quietly.

The Jedi Master put a hand on the boy's head and smiled. "You stay

close to me, Annie, do as I say, and you'll be safe."

Keeping safe wasn't quite what the boy had in mind, but he let the

matter drop, satisfied that as long as he was close to Qui-Gon, he wouldn't

be far from the action.

In the Theed palace throne room, Darth Sidious loomed in hologram form

before Darth Maul, Battle Droid Commander OOM-9, and the Neimoidians.

Smooth

and silky, his voice oozed through the shadowy ether.

"Our young Queen surprises me," he whispered thoughtfully, hidden

within his dark robes. "She is more foolish than I thought. "

"We are sending all available troops to meet this army of hers,"

Nute

Gunray offered quickly. "It appears to be assembling at the edge of the

swamp. Primitives, my lord-nothing better. We do not expect much

resistance."

"I am increasing security at all Naboo detention camps," OOM-9

intoned.

Darth Maul glared at nothing, then shook his horned head. "I feel there

is more to this than what we know, my Master. The two Jedi may be using the

Queen for their own purposes."

"The Jedi cannot become involved," Darth Sidious soothed, hands

spreading in a placating motion. "They can only protect the Queen.

Even

Qui-Gon Jinn cannot break that covenant. This will work to our advantage."

Darth Maul snorted, anxious to get on with it.

"I have your approval to proceed, then, my lord?" Nute Gunray asked

hesitantly, avoiding the younger Sith's mad eyes.

"Proceed," Darth Sidious ordered softly. "Wipe them out, Viceroy.

All

of them."

20

By midday, with the sun overhead in a cloudless sky and the wind died

away to nothing, the grasslands lying south of Theed between the Naboo

capital city and the Gungan swamp lay empty and still. Heat rose off the

grasslands in a soft shimmer, and it was so quiet that from a hundred meters

away the chirp of birds and the buzz of insects could be heard as if they

were settled close by.

Then the Trade Federation army's bubble-nosed transports and

armor-wrapped tanks roared onto the rolling meadows, skimming the tall

grasses in gleaming waves of bright metal.

It was quiet in the swamps as well, the perpetual twilight hushed and

expectant beneath the vast canopy of limbs and vines, the surface of the

mire as smooth and unbroken as glass, the reeds and rushes motionless in the

windless air. Here and there a water bug jumped soundlessly from place to

place, stirring puddles to life in the wake of its passing, bending blades

of grass like springboards. Birds swooped and banked in bright flashes of

color, darting from limb to limb. Small animals crept from cover to drink

and feed, eyes bright, noses twitching, senses alert.

Then the Gungan army surfaced in a rippling of murky water and a stream

of bubbles, lop-eared heads popping up like corks, - first one, then

another, and finally hundreds and eventually thousands.

Both on the plain and in the swamp, the small animals raced back into

hiding, the birds took wing, and the insects went to ground.

Astride their kaadu, the Gungans rode from their concealment with armor

strapped to their amphibious bodies and weapons held at the ready.

They

carried long-hafted energy spears and metal-handled ball slings for

long-distance fighting and energy shields for close combat. The kaadu shook

themselves as they reached dry ground, shedding the swamp water from their

smooth skins, eyes picking out the solid patches of ground as their riders

urged them on. Numbers swelling as they reached the fringes of the swamp,

the Gungans began to form up in ranks of riders that stretched away as far

as the eye could see.

As the first wave rode clear, the swamp boiled anew with the appearance

of fambaa-huge, four-legged lizards with long necks and tails and massive,

scaly bodies. The fambaa bore shield generators atop their broad backs,

machines that when linked would activate a force field to protect the Gungan

soldiers against Trade Federation weaponry. The fambaa lumbered heavily

beneath their loads, necks craning from side to side as their drivers

prodded them impatiently.

Jar Jar Binks rode with them at the head of his new command, wondering

what it was he was supposed to do. Mostly, he believed, he was supposed to

stay out of the way. Certainly the other generals and even his own

subordinate officers had made it clear that this was what they preferred.

Boss Nass might think it clever to make him a general in the Gungan army,

but the career officers found it less amusing. General Ceel, who was

commander-in-chief, grunted sourly at Jar Jar, on being informed of his new

position, and told him to set a good example for his people and die well.

Jar Jar had responded to all this by keeping a low profile until the

march out of the swamp began, and then he had assumed his required position

at the head of his command. He had gotten barely a hundred meters after

emerging from concealment when he had fallen off his kaadu. No one had

bothered to stop to help him climb back on, and so now he was riding

somewhere in the middle of his troops.

"Tis very bombad," he kept whispering to himself as he rode with the

others through the marshy haze.

Slowly, steadily, the Gungan army cleared the tangle of the swamps and

moved out onto the open grasslands where the Trade Federation army was

already waiting.

Anakin Skywalker hunkered down in the shadows of a building directly

across from the main hangar of the Naboo starfleet in the city of Theed.

It

was quiet here as well, the bulk of the battle droids dispatched to the

field to deal with the Gungan army, the remainder scattered throughout the

city in patrols and on perimeter watch. Nevertheless, tanks crowded the

plaza fronting the hangar complex, and a strong contingent of battle droids

warded the Naboo fleet. Seizing control of the starfighters was not going to

be easy.

Anakin glanced over at those with him. Padme, dressed as a handmaiden,

crouched with Eirtae beside the Jedi, waiting for Captain Panaka's command

to get into position on the other side of the square. Sabe, the decoy Queen,

and her handmaidens wore battle dress, loose-fitting and durable, with

blasters strapped to their sides. R2-D2 blinked silently from behind them in

the company of twenty-odd Naboo officers, guards, and pilots, all armed and

ready. It seemed to the boy like a pathetically small number of fighters to

carry the day, but it was all they had.

At least Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were talking again. They had begun doing

so on the journey in from the swamps, a few words here, a few there,

exchanging comments guardedly, testing the waters. Anakin had listened

carefully, more attuned to the nuances of their conversation than others

could be, hearing in the inflection of their voices more than simply the

words spoken. After a time, when the words had healed enough of the breach

that they felt comfortable again, there were smiles, brief and almost sad,

but clear in their purpose. The Jedi were old friends and their relationship

that of father and son. They did not want to toss it all away over a single

disagreement. Anakin was thankful for that-especially since the disagreement

in question was over him.

Padme had spoken to him as well, joining him for a few moments as they

approached the city through the forests east, her smile banishing all his

doubts and fears in a moment's time.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner," she said, apologizing for

hiding her identity. "I know it was a surprise."

"It's okay," he said, shrugging bravely.

"I guess knowing I'm a Queen makes you feel differently about me,

doesn't it?" she asked.

"I guess, but that's okay. Just so you still like me. Because I still

like you." He looked over at her hopefully.

"Of course, Annie. Telling you who I really all} doesn't mean my

feelings for you have changed. I was the same person before, whether you

knew the truth about me or not."

He thought about it a moment. "I suppose." He brightened. "So I guess

my feelings for you shouldn't be any different now either."

She moved away, smiling broadly back at him, and just at that moment he

felt ten meters tall.

So now he was at peace with himself about the Jedi and Padme, but was

beset with new concerns. What if something happened to them during the fight

ahead? What if they were hurt or even...He couldn't bring himself to finish

the thought. Nothing bad would happen to them, that was all. He wouldn't let

it. He glanced at them, kneeling in silence at the edge of the plaza, and

promised himself he would keep them safe no matter what. That would be his

job. His mouth tightened with determination as he made his pledge.

"Once we get inside, Annie, you find a safe place to hide until this is

over," Qui-Gon advised suddenly, bending close, almost as if he could read

the boy's mind.

"Sure," Anakin promised.

"And stay there," the Jedi Master added firmly.

Across the way, Panaka and his contingent of fighters were in position

now, placing the tanks and battle droids in a crossfire with Padme's group.

Padme produced a small glow rod and flashed a coded signal to Panaka across

the square.

All around Anakin, weapons slid free of holsters and fastenings, and

safeties were released.

Then Panaka's fighters opened up on the battle droids, blasters

shattering their metal bodies in a hail of laser fire. Other droids wheeled

about in response and began exchanging fire, drawn toward the source of the

conflict and away from Padme's group. Qui - Gon came to his feet.

"Stay

close," Qui-Gon whispered to him. A moment later, the boy was running with

the Jedi, Padme, Eirtae, R2-D2, and their Naboo contingent of soldiers and

pilots toward the open door of the hangar.

Jar Jar sat tall astride his kaadu, having regained his composure and

resumed his position at the head of his troop. The Gungan army was spread

out all along the grasslands on either side of where he rode for as far as

the eye could see. Birdlike, the kaadu picked their way through the tall

grasses, heads dipping, Gungan riders swaying with the motion. The Gungans

wore leather and metal headgear and body armor, with small, circular shields

strapped at their hips and tri-plate energy packs for abetting the force

field jutting like metal feathers from their saddle backs. The fambaa,

bearing the shield generators, were spaced evenly down their lines to

achieve maximum protection once the generators were activated. Like tanks,

the massive lizards lumbered amidst the more nimble kaadu, and the

grasslands shook with the weight of their passing.

At the head of the army rode General Ceel and his command unit, the

flags of Otoh Gunga and the other Gungan cities borne in their wake at the

end of long poles.

The army crested a rise, a great, rolling wave of dark bodies, and on a

hand signal from General Ceel, drew to a halt.

Across a long, shallow depression, its position secure on the next

ridge over, the Trade Federation army waited. Lines of STAPs and tanks

formed the first rank, spread out over a distance of more than a kilometer,

armor plating and weapons gleaming in the midday sun. Buttressing the

smaller vehicles were the huge Federation transports, massive bodies

hovering just off the ground, bulbous-nose gates closed and pointed forward

toward the Gungans. Battle droids controlled tanks and STAPs, faceless and

empty metal shells impervious to pain, devoid of emotion, and programmed to

fight until destroyed.

Jar Jar Binks stared at the droid army in awe. There was not a living

creature in sight, not one made of flesh and blood, not one that would react

to the terrible roil of battle as the Gungans would. It made his skin crawl

to think of what that meant.

The fambaa were in place now, and General Ceel activated the shield

generators. The big turbines hummed to life, and a pulse of red light arced

from a generator atop one fambaa to a dish atop the next, the beam widening

and broadening as it grew in size to encompass the whole of the Gungan army

until each soldier and kaadu was safely enfolded. The coloring of the

protective light changed from red to gold, shimmering like a mirage on a

desert. The effect was to make it appear as if the Gungan army was

underwater, as if it had been swallowed in a bright, clear sea.

The Federation was quick to test the shield's effectiveness. On a

signal from Droid Commander OOM-9, who in turn was responding to a command

from the deep-space control center, the tanks opened fire, their laser

cannons sending round after round into the covering. Searing beams hammered

into the shield and shattered ineffectively against the liquid energy

surface, unable to penetrate.

Within their protective covering, the Gungans waited patiently, weapons

ready, trusting the strength of their shield.

Astride his kaadu, Jar Jar Binks flinched and squirmed fearfully,

muttering various prayers to ward off the destruction he was certain would

find him otherwise. Relentlessly, the Trade Federation cannons continued

their attack, streamers of energy lancing from their barrel mounts, pounding

at the covering. The flash and burn and explosion were blinding and

deafening, but the Gungans held their ground.

Finally, the Trade Federation guns went still. Try as they might, they

could not break through the Gungan energy shield. Within their protective

canopy, the Gungans cheered and brandished their weapons triumphantly.

But now the tanks and STAPs withdrew, and the massive transports

advanced to the fore. The rounded-nose doors opened, widening to reveal a

cluster of racks mounted within. The racks rolled forward on long rails,

revealing row after row of battle droids neatly folded up and suspended on

hooks. When the racks were fully extended, they began to lower and separate

outward, filling the open space in front of the transports with thousands of

droids.

Positioned at the forefront of their army, General Ceel and his Gungan

commanders exchanged worried looks.

Now the racks began to release the battle droids, who unfolded in

unison into standing positions, arms and legs extended, bodies straight.

Metal hands reached back over shoulders to pull free the blaster rifles with

which each unit was equipped.

On command from OOM-9, the entire array of battle droids began to march

toward the Gungan army, bright metal ranks filling the grasslands from

horizon to horizon.

The Gungan shield wall was designed to deflect large, slow-moving

objects of density and mass such as artillery vehicles and small,

fast-moving objects generating extreme heat such as projectiles from weapons

fire. But it would not deflect small, slow-moving droids-even massed

together in such numbers as they were here. Jar Jar Binks began to wish he

were somewhere else, thinking that as mighty as the Gungan army was, it was

dwarfed by the metal machine that marched against it now.

But the Gungans had come prepared for battle, and they were not so

deterred by the number of their enemies that they were ready to quit. All up

and down their lines, Gungans activated their energy spears and

straight-handled slings, arming them for the attack. At the foot of the rise

on which they waited, the front ranks of the battle droids reached the

perimeter of the energy field and began to pass through. The shield had no

effect on them. Lifting their blasters to their shoulders, they began to

fire.

Amid a wail of great, curved battle horns, the Gungans retaliated.

A

shower of spears rained down on the advancing droids, shafts and points

exploding on impact, ripping metal limbs and torsos apart. Energy balls

flung from the slings followed, inflicting further damage. Mortars dumped

their loads in the center of the droid ranks, opening huge gaps in the

attack. The battle droids reeled and slowed, then regained momentum and came

on, hundreds more taking the place of those who had fallen, marching

mindlessly through the protective shield and into the range of the Gungan

weapons.

At the center of his command unit, General Ceel urged his warriors on,

tightening his defensive lines in front of the fambaa and the shield

generators to protect them from harm, knowing that if the force field came

down, the Trade Federation's tanks would strike the Gungans as well.

Battle-droid ranks, metal parts reflecting sun and fire, and Gungan

lines, orange-skinned and supple, closed to do battle. Resisting the

temptation to shut his eyes against what he knew was coming, Jar Jar Binks

kicked his heels into the flanks of his kaadu and charged ahead with the

rest of his command.

In the relative seclusion of the Theed palace throne room, in a place

they had believed safely removed from any real danger, Nute Gunray and Rune

Haako stared at a giant viewscreen and its rapidly changing images of the

battle taking place in the main hangar. The Jedi Knights were inside the

complex, accompanied by Naboo soldiers and pilots, their lightsabers

wreaking havoc on the battle droids who tried to stop them.

"How did they get into the city?" Rune Haako whispered in dismay.

Nute Gunray shook his head. "I don't know. I thought the battle was

going to take place far from here." His eyes were wide and staring. "This is

too close!"

They turned as one when Darth Maul stalked into the room, bearing a

long - handled lightsaber. Yellow eyes gleamed out of the Sith's red and

black tattooed face, and his dark cloak billowed out behind him.

Nute Gunray and Rune Haako backed away instinctively, neither of them

wanting to get in the way. "Lord Maul," Gunray greeted, inclining his head

briefly.

Darth Maul glanced at him disdainfully. "I told you there was more to

this than, was apparent!" His eyes had a wild, manic look to them. "The Jedi

have come to Theed for a reason, Viceroy. They have a plan of their own for

defeating us."

"A plan?" the Neimoidian asked worriedly.

"One that will fail, I assure you." The striped face glinted wickedly

in the light. "I have waited a long time for this. I have trained for it

endlessly. The Jedi will regret their decision to return here."

There was an edge to his rough voice that was frightening. The Sith was

anxious for this confrontation, his body coiled and ready, his hands flexing

about his weapon. The Neimoidians did not envy those he sought.

"Wait here until I return," he ordered abruptly, and swept past them.

"Where are you going?" Nute Gunray demanded frantically as the Sith

Lord crossed toward the speeder docks.

"Where do you think I'm going, Viceroy?" the other sneered. "I'm going

to the main hangar to rid you of the Jedi once and for all."

21

Anakin Skywalker rushed through the open doors of the main hangar after

the Jedi and Padme, with R2-D2 and the rest of the Naboo freedom fighters on

their heels. Battle droids turned to confront them, but lightsabers and

blasters cut apart the foremost before the others even knew what was

happening. The droids rallied in response, summoning help from without, but

Panaka and his men had those in the plaza already occupied, and for a moment

the Jedi and the Naboo were in control.

Mindful of Qui-Gon's admonition, Anakin ducked beneath the fuselage of

the closest starfighter, laser bolts searing the air around him in brilliant

bursts of fire.

"Get to your ships!" Padme shouted at her pilots, leading the

contingent of Naboo soldiers under her command in pursuit of the retreating

battle droids.

Ducking and crouching, she fired her blaster with quick, precise moves,

bringing down droid after droid, her charges finding their targets with

unerring accuracy. The Jedi fought just ahead of her, blocking droid laser

fire with their lightsabers, striking down those unfortunate enough to cross

their path. But it was Padme on whom Anakin's eyes ~re riveted, for not only

had he never seen this side of her, he hadn't even known it existed.

She

moved with the skill and training of a seasoned fighter, no longer seeming

in any way a young girl, becoming instead a deadly combatant.

He thought suddenly of his dream of Padme leading an army in another

time and place, and suddenly the dream didn't seem so impossible.

Pilots from the attacking force and R2 units freed from storage in the

hangar lockers moved quickly to board the Naboo fighters, scattering swiftly

through the hail of blaster fire. Clambering aboard their starships, pilots

in the cockpits, R2 units in their sockets, they switched on their control

panels and ignited their engines. A roar of power filled the massive hangar,

drowning out the sound of laser fire, building to an ear-shattering

crescendo. One by one, the fighters began to levitate and shift into

position for takeoff.

A Naboo pilot rushed past Anakin and climbed into the fighter he was

crouched behind. "Better get out of here, kid!" she called down from the

cockpit. "Find yourself a new hiding place! You're about to lose this one!"

Anakin darted away in a low crouch, droid blaster fire crisscrossing

the air above him, centering on the departing ships. The fighter he had

abandoned began to lift off, wheeling toward the open hangar doors.

Other

ships were already speeding away into the blue, engines booming.

As the Jedi and the Naboo fighters continued to push the droid hangar

watch steadily back, Anakin searched hastily for a new hiding place. Then

he

heard R2-D2 whistle at him from another fighter close at hand, the little

droid already ensconced in his socket, domed head rotating, control lights

flashing. The boy raced across the hangar floor littered with the shattered

bodies of battle droids, laser fire whizzing all about him, and jumped into

the cockpit with a gasp of relief.

Peering out from the safety of his bolt-hole, he watched the last pair

of Naboo fighters rocket out of the hangar. The first got free, but the

second was hit by tank fire and knocked sideways so that it pinwheeled into

the ground and exploded in a ball of flame. Anakin winced and crouched

lower.

Now Panaka, Sabe, and the Naboo soldiers who had been engaged in combat

outside the hangar burst through the doors as well, firing as they came.

Caught in a crossfire, the remaining battle droids were quickly overwhelmed

and destroyed. There was a hurried conference between the Jedi, Padme, and

Panaka, and then the entire Naboo fighting force began to move toward an

exit in the hangar that took them directly past Anakin's hiding place.

"Hey, where are you going?" the boy asked, popping his head out of the

cockpit as they passed.

"Annie, you stay there!" Qui-Gon ordered, motioning him back down.

His

long hair was wild and his face intense. "Stay right where you are!"

The boy ignored him, standing up instead. "No, I want to go with you

and Padme!"

"Stay in that cockpit!" Qui-Gon snapped in a tone of voice that brooked

no argument.

Anakin froze, undecided, as the contingent hurried past him toward the

exit door, weapons at the ready. He did not want to be left behind. He had

no intention of letting Qui-Gon and Padme go on without him, especially

since he could do nothing to help them if he was stuck here in this empty

hangar.

He was still wrestling with the matter when the entire group slowed in

front of the exit door. A dark-cloaked figure stepped through the opening to

confront them. Anakin's breath caught in his throat. It was the Sith Lord

who had attacked them on the Tatooine desert, a dangerous adversary, Qui-Gon

had advised the boy later, an enemy of the Jedi Knights. He stepped out of

the shadows like a large sand panther, his red and black tattooed face a

terrifying mask, his yellow eyes bright with anticipation and rage.

Blocking the way out, he stood waiting for the Jedi and their charges,

a long-handled lightsaber held before him. Captain Panaka and his fighters

backed away at once. Then, on command from Qui-Gon, Padme and her

handmaidens gave ground as well, though less quickly and with more obvious

reluctance.

Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi stood alone in the Sith Lord's path.

Together, they removed their capes and ignited their lightsabers.

Their

homed antagonist stripped away his cloak as well, then lifted the

long-handled lightsaber he bore as if offering it for inspection.

Gleaming

blade fire jutted from both ends of the handle, revealing a deadly,

dual-blade weapon. A smile crossed the bearer's feral face as he swung the

weapon before him in an idle, casual gesture, beckoning the Jedi ahead.

Spreading out to either side, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan slowly advanced to

meet him.

On the plains south of Theed, the battle between the Trade Federation

and the Gungan armies was fully joined. Gungans and battle droids were

locked in close combat, a tangle of amphibious bodies and metal shells.

The

shield generators still held the Trade Federation tanks at bay. Only the

droids had broken through, but there were many more of them than there were

of the Gungans, and General Ceel had committed all his reserves to the

struggle.

Jar Jar Binks fought at the center of the maelstrom, wielding a broken

energy spear as a club, wheeling and stumbling this way and that, careening

wildly. Caught up in the wiring of a battle droid he had decapitated, he

could not manage to free himself from the debris, and so was dragging the

headless torso after him. The droid, still operating on autopilot despite

the loss of its head, was firing its blaster continuously as Jar Jar whipped

it this way and that, finding droid targets more often than Gungans, cutting

a swath through their faltering ranks.

"Tis bombad! Tis bombad!" The Gungan shouted out the refrain over and

over as he swung his shattered spear and fought to get free of his headless

companion.

When at last he broke away and was able to smash the remains of the

droid into the ground, he was left standing in a wide open space that

everyone on both sides was trying desperately to avoid. For a terrifying

moment, Jar Jar literally did not know which way to turn.

Then a cry went up from the Gungans closest. "Jar Jar Binks! Jar Jar

Binks! "

"Who, me?" the befuddled Gungan gasped.

Inspired troops rallied around him and pressed ahead once more,

sweeping him along in a wild and unexpected counterattack.

But the Trade Federation, unlike the Gungans, had other weapons left to

call upon. OOM-9, responding to orders from the orbiting battleship command

station, unleashed a battalion of destroyer droids from the transports.

Down

long rampways they wheeled, across the grasslands, over the bodies of

shattered battle droids, and through the Gungan energy shield.

Transforming

into battle mode, they began to advance through the carnage, twin blasters

firing in steady cadence. Gungans and kaadu went down in broken heaps, but

other Gungans moved quickly to fill the gaps in their lines, slowing the

destroyer droids, fighting to hold their ground.

Back and forth the battle raged, the outcome undecided.

Anakin Skywalker had made a promise to himself that he would protect

Qui - Gon Jinn and Padme Naberrie from harm, that he would see to it somehow

that nothing bad happened to them. He knew when he made the promise how hard

it was going to be to keep. Somewhere in the back of his mind where he would

admit such things privately, he knew how foolish it was even to make such a

commitment. But he was young and brave at heart, and he had lived his life

pretty much on his own terms because to live it any other way would have

broken him long ago. It hadn't been easy doing so, especially as a slave.

He

had survived mostly because he had been able to find small victories in

difficult situations and because he had always believed that one day he

would find a way to overcome the circumstances of his birth.

His belief in himself had been rewarded. His life had been changed

forever by his victory just days earlier in the Boonta Eve Podrace on

Tatooine.

It was not so strange then that he should decide he could somehow

affect the lives of a Jedi Knight and a Naboo Queen as well, even if he did

not know precisely how. He was not afraid to accept such responsibility.

He

was not daunted by the challenge his decision presented.

But now his resolve was put to the test.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan closed with the Sith Lord in a clash of lightsabers

that produced the shriek of diamond-edged saw blades cutting through metal.

Wheeling across the center of the hangar, the combatants lunged and parried,

attack and counterattack carried out in a fierce, no-holds-barred,

no-quarter - given struggle. The Sith Lord was supple and quick, and he

worked his way between the Jedi with confidence and ease, whipping his

two-ended lightsaber back and forth between them, more than holding his own

against their efforts to bring him down. He was skilled, Anakin saw-more

skilled, perhaps, than the men he faced. And he was confident in a way that

was disturbing. He would not be overcome easily.

But Padme and the Naboo faced a more dangerous situation still. At the

far end of the hangar, from off the plaza, a cluster of three destroyer

droids wheeled through the doorway and began to unfold, assuming battle

stance. R2-D2 saw them first and beeped a warning to the boy. Anakin tore

his gaze away from the Jedi and the Sith Lord. The destroyer droids had

transformed and were already moving forward, laser guns firing into the

Naboo. Several soldiers went down, and Sabe was stung by a glancing blow

that knocked her backward into the arms of Panaka. Padme and her companions

resisted determinedly, but already they were falling back to find cover.

"We've got to help, Artoo," the boy declared, standing up in the

cockpit with the intention of doing something, anything, casting about

futilely for a weapon.

But R2-D2 was way ahead of him. The little droid had plugged himself

into the starfighter's computer system, lights blinking across his control

panel as he triggered the big engines. Everything roared to life at once,

startling Anakin, who fell back in the pilot's seat in surprise.

Slowly, the ship began to levitate, wheeling out of its mooring space.

"Great work, Artoo!" Anakin shouted excitedly, reaching at once for the

steering bars. "Now, let's see..."

He wheeled the fighter about so that it was facing toward the

combatants. His eyes scanned the control panel desperately, searching for

the weapons systems. He knew something of fighters from salvaging wrecks,

but nothing of Naboo fighters in particular or of weapons systems in

general. Most of what he knew was about guidance systems and engines, and

most of that about Pods, speeders, and aging transports.

"Which one, which one?" he muttered, his fingers passing over buttons

and levers and switches, undecided.

He lifted his eyes momentarily. One of the Naboo soldiers went down in

a crumpled heap, his helmet and blaster flying away in a clatter of metal.

Laser charges burned the metal girders and walls about the defenders as the

destroyer droids continued their relentless attack on Padme's dwindling

force. In desperation, Anakin threw a bank of switches set into a red panel.

The fighter began to shake violently, a reaction to a shift in the

stabilizers.

"Uh-oh, wrong ones," the boy breathed, throwing the switches back into

place. His gaze roamed to a bank of four dark buttons recessed deep into

finger holes and circled in green. "Maybe these..."

He pressed down on the buttons. Instantly, the nose lasers fired, their

charges ripping into the battle droids. Three went down, charred and smoking

scrap.

"Yeah! Droid blasters!" he shouted gleefully, and behind him, R2-D2

beeped his approval.

The remaining destroyer droids wheeled toward him spreading out across

the hangar floor to present a more difficult target. Behind them, Padme, her

handmaidens, Panaka, and the remainder of the Naboo soldiers were racing for

the door that led back toward the palace. Anakin watched over the rim of the

cockpit as they disappeared safely out the door. "Good luck," he whispered.

The destroyer droids were advancing on him now, their blasters firing,

charges exploding all around him, shaking the fighter's slim frame.

Anakin

had a momentary glimpse of the Sith Lord driving the Jedi across the hangar

and through an opening into a room beyond, pressing them backward

relentlessly, pursuing them with a fury that was terrifying.

Then they disappeared from view as well, and the boy was alone with his

attackers.

A laser blast struck the nose of his craft and knocked the ship

sideways. The boy tightened his grip on the steering. He fired his own

lasers in retaliation, but the destroyer droids had moved too far to either

side to be affected, and his charges missed everything but the hangar walls.

He dropped below the rim of the cockpit once more, eyes searching the

control panel anew. "Shields up," he hissed, forcing himself to concentrate

as laser blasts streaked all around. "Always on the right side! Shields are

always on the right!"

He flipped several likely switches, and the afterburner ignited with a

rumble. He pushed another, then one more. The steering handle fought itself

free of his grip, and the fighter wheeled about and streaked out through the

hangar doors, lifting swiftly away.

The cockpit hood slid smoothly into place, locking about the boy.

"Artoo, what's happening?" he screamed. R2-D2's nervous beeps and whistles

sounded through the intercom speakers. "Yes, I know I pushed something!"

the

boy answered. "No, I'm not doing anything!" He caught his breath as the

beeps continued, and read R2's words on his cockpit display. "It's on

automatic pilot? Well, try to override it!"

The sleek yellow fighter had left the Naboo atmosphere and was entering

deep space, leaving the planet behind, a green and blue jewel receding into

the black.

Ahead, a series of small, silver dots appeared, growing steadily

larger. Other ships.

"Artoo, where are we going?" Anakin gasped, still trying to decipher

the control panel.

The comm system squawked, and suddenly he was hearing the voices of Ric

Olie and the Naboo pilots who had taken off ahead of him.

"This is Bravo Leader." Ric's leathery voice broke through the static.

"Bravo Two, intercept enemy fighters. Bravo Three, make your run on the

transmitter station."

"Copy, Bravo Leader," the response came back.

Anakin could see them now, the silver dots taking on recognizable

shape, transforming into Naboo starfighters, spread out against the

blackness, approaching the larger, blockier form of the Federation

battleship.

"Enemy fighters straight ahead," Ric Olie warned suddenly Ion the comm.

At the same moment, R2-D2 beeped hurriedly at Anakin. The boy felt his

stomach lurch as he read the display. "What do you mean, the autopilot is

searching for the other ships? What other ships?" His eyes shifted to the

Naboo fighters ahead. "Not those?"

R2-D2 whistled a quick confirmation. Anakin collapsed in his seat.

"The

autopilot is taking us up there, with them? Into battle?" His mind raced.

"Well, get us off autopilot, Artoo!"

The astromech droid beeped and whistled some more. "There is no manual

override!" Anakin shouted in despair. "Or at least not any I can find!

You'll have to rewire or something! Artoo, hurry!"

He stared helplessly through the cockpit glass as his fighter streaked

directly toward the heart of the Trade Federation swarm, wondering what in

the world he was going to do to save himself now.

22

Qui-Gon Jinn was one of the most able swordsmen in the Jedi order.

The

Jedi Master he had trained under had considered him one of the best the

Master had taught in his more than four hundred years in the order. Qui-

Gon

had fought in conflicts all across the galaxy in the span of his life and

against odds so great that many others would not have stood a chance. He had

survived battles that had tested his skill and resolve in every conceivable

way.

But on this day, he had met his match. The Sith Lord he battled with

Obi - Wan was more than his equal in weapons training, and he had the

advantage of being younger and stronger. Qui-Gon was nearing sixty; his

youth was behind him and his strength was beginning to diminish. His edge

now, to the extent that he had one, came from his long experience and

intuitive grasp of how an adversary might employ a lightsaber against him.

Obi-Wan brought youth and stamina to the combat, but he had fought in

only a few contests and was not battle hardened. Together, they were able to

hold their own against the Sith Lord, but their efforts at attack, at

assuming the offensive against this dangerous adversary, were woefully

inadequate.

Darth Maul was a warrior in his prime, never to be any better, his

powers at their apex. In addition, he was driven by his messianic hatred for

and disdain of the Jedi Knights, the enemies of the Sith for millennia.

He

had worked and trained all his life for this moment, for a chance to meet a

Jedi Knight in combat. It was an added bonus that he was able to engage two.

He had no fear for himself, no doubt that he would win. He was focused in a

way that Qui-Gon recognized at once-a Jedi's focus, mindful of the present,

locked in on what was needed in the here and now. Qui-Gon saw it in his mad

eyes and in the set of his red and black tattooed features. The Sith Lord

was a living example of what the Jedi Master was always telling Obi-Wan

about how best to hear the will of the Force.

The three combatants fought their way across the hangar floor,

lightsabers flashing, bringing to bear every skill they had acquired over

the years. The Jedi Knights tried continually to press the attack, and

indeed, the Sith Lord was moving away from the Naboo and the starfighters

and back toward the hangar's far wall. But Qui-Gon recognized that while it

might seem as if the Jedi were driving him before them, it was the Sith Lord

who was controlling the struggle. Wheeling and spinning, leaping and

somersaulting with astonishing ease, their enemy was taking them with him,

drawing them on to a place of his own choosing. His agility and dexterity

allowed him to keep them both at bay, constantly attacking while at the same

time effectively blunting their counterattacks, relentlessly searching for

an opening in their defense.

Qui-Gon pressed hard in the beginning, sensing how dangerous this man

was, wanting to put an end to the combat quickly. Long hair flying out

behind him, he attacked with ferocity and determination. Obi-Wan came with

him, following his lead. They had fought together before, and they knew each

other's moves. Qui-Gon had trained Obi-Wan, and while the younger Jedi was

not yet his equal, he believed that one day Obi - Wan would be better than

he had ever been.

So they challenged the Sith Lord quickly, and just as quickly I

discovered that their best efforts were not good enough to achieve an early

resolution. They settled into a pattern then, working as a team against

their enemy, waiting for an opening. But the Sith Lord was too smart to give

them one, and so the battle had gone on.

They fought their way out of the main hangar through an entry that led

into a power station. Catwalks and overhangs crisscrossed a pit in which a

tandem of generators that served the starship complex was housed. The room

was cavernous and filled with the noise of heavy machinery. Ambient light

filtered away in clouds of steam and layers of shadows. The Jedi and the

Sith Lord battled onto one of the catwalks suspended above the generators,

and the metal frame rang with the thudding of their boots and the clash of

their lightsabers.

Alone in the power station, hidden from the rest of Theed and its

occupants, they intensified their struggle.

The Sith Lord leapt from the bridge on which they fought to the one

above, strange face shining with the heat of the battle and his own peculiar

joy. The Jedi followed, one coming up in front of him, one behind, so that

they had him pinned between them. Down the length of the catwalk they

fought, lightsabers flashing, sparks flying from the metal railing of the

walk as they smashed against it.

Then Darth Maul caught Obi-Wan off balance and with a powerful kick

knocked the Jedi completely over the railing. Taking advantage of the Sith

Lord's assault on Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon forced Darth Maul over the railing as

well. Down the Sith Lord tumbled, landing hard on a catwalk several levels

below Obi-Wan. The force of the fall or perhaps the unexpectedness of it

left him visibly stunned, and Qui-Gon leapt down after him, sensing a chance

to put an end to things. But the Sith Lord struggled back to his feet

quickly and raced away, taking the battle in a new direction.

By the time Obi-Wan had recovered, Qui-Gon was in pursuit of Darth

Maul, following him down the catwalk toward a small door at the far end of

the power station. The Jedi Master went swiftly, legs and arms pumping,

lightsaber flashing. He was worn and battered by now, close to exhaustion,

but the Sith Lord was on the defensive at last, and he did not want to give

him a chance to regroup.

"Qui-Gon!" Obi-Wan called after him, trying to catch up, but the Jedi

Master did not slow.

One after the other, the three antagonists passed through the small

door into a corridor beyond. They were moving quickly in their frenzied

chase and were into the corridor before they realized what it was.

Lasers

ricocheted off buffer struts, pulsing in long bursts of crisscrossing

brilliance that segmented the corridor at five points. The lasers had just

begun to kick in when the Sith Lord and the Jedi Knights rushed through the

entry. Darth Maul, in the lead, got farthest down the corridor and found

himself trapped between walls four and five. Qui-Gon, in close pursuit, was

caught only one wall away. Obi-Wan, who was farthest away in the chase, did

not get past even the first wall.

Shocked into immobility by the buzz and flash of the lasers, the

antagonists froze where they were, casting about for an escape, finding

none. Qui-Gon took a quick measure of their location. They were in the

service corridor for the melting pit, the disposal unit of the power

station's residue. The service corridor was armed With lasers against

unauthorized intrusion. There would be a shutoff switch somewhere at both

ends of the passage, but it was too late to look for it now.

The Jedi Knights stared down the laser-riddled corridor at the Sith

Lord, who gave them a Wicked grin. Don't worry, they could read in his dark

countenance, you won't have long to wait for me.

Qui-Gon exchanged a meaningful glance With Obi-Wan, then dropped into a

guarded crouch to meditate and wait.

Padme Naberrie, Queen of the Naboo, along With her handmaidens and

Captain Panaka and his soldiers, followed the passageways that led out of

the main hangar through the city and back to the palace. It was a running

battle fought building by building, corridor by corridor, against the battle

droids who had been left behind to garrison Theed. They encountered the

droids both singly and in entire squads, and there was nothing for it each

time but to fight their way clear Without becoming entangled in a

full-fledged engagement.

As a consequence, they avoided a direct route in favor of one less

likely to necessitate contact With the droids. At first they had no choice

but to make straight for the palace, fleeing the battle in the main hangar,

hoping that speed and surprise would carry them through. When that failed,

Panaka began to take a more cautious approach. They used underground

tunnels, hidden passageways, and connecting skywalks that avoided the

patrols scouring the streets and plazas. When they were discovered, they

fought their way clear as quickly as possible and went to ground, all the

while continuing steadily on.

In the end, they reached the palace much more quickly than Padme had

dared to hope, entering from a skywalk bridging to a watchtower, then making

their way along the palace halls toward the throne room.

They were in the midst of this endeavor when an entire patrol of battle

droids rounded a corner of the passage ahead of them and opened fire.

Padme

and her followers pressed back into the alcoves and doorways of the hall,

firing their own weapons in response, searching for a way out. More battle

droids were appearing, and alarms were sounding throughout the palace.

"Captain!" Padme shouted at Panaka above the din of weapons fire.

"We

don't have time for this!"

Panaka's sweat-streaked face glanced about hurriedly. "Let's try

outside!" he shouted back.

Turning his blaster on a tall window, he blew out the frame and

transparisteel. While her handmaidens and the bulk of the Naboo soldiers

provided covering fire, the Queen and Panaka, together with half a dozen

guards, broke from cover and climbed swiftly out the shattered window.

But now Padme and her defenders found themselves trapped on a broad

ledge six stories above a thundering waterfall and catchment that fed into a

series of connecting ponds dotting the palace grounds. Pressed against the

stone wall, the Queen cast about furiously for an escape route.

Panaka

shouted at his men to use their ascension guns, motioning toward a ledge

four stories farther up on the building. The Naboo pulled the grapple-line

units from their belts, fitted them to the barrels of their blasters,

pointed them skyward, and fired. Slender cables uncoiled like striking

snakes, the steel-clawed ends embedding themselves in the stone.

Swiftly Padme and the other Naboo activated the ascension mechanism and

were towed up the wall.

From behind, in the hallway where her handmaidens and the rest of the

Naboo soldiers still held the battle droids at bay, the firing grew more

intense. Padme ignored the sounds, forcing herself to continue ahead.

When they were on the ledge above, they cast away the cables, and

Panaka used his blaster on a window to open a way back into the building.

Transparisteel and permacrete shards lay everywhere as they climbed through

once more, finding themselves in yet another hallway. They were close to the

throne room now; it lay only another story up and several corridors back.

Padme felt a fierce exultation. She would have the Neimoidian viceroy as her

prisoner yet!

But the thought was no sooner completed than a pair of destroyer droids

wheeled around one end of the hallway, swiftly transforming into battle

mode. Mere seconds later, a second pair appeared at the other end, weapons

held at the ready.

In a hollow, mechanical monotone, the foremost of the droids ordered

them to throw down their weapons.

Padme hesitated. There was no possibility for an escape unless they

went back out the window, and if they did that, they would be trapped on the

ledge and rendered helpless. They could try to fight their way free, but

while they stood a reasonable chance against battle droids, they were

seriously overmatched by their more powerful cousins.

In the wake of this chilling assessment, an inspired thought occurred

to her, a solution that might give them the victory they sought in spite of

their situation. She straightened, held out her arms in surrender, and

tossed aside her blaster.

"Throw down your weapons," she ordered Captain Panaka and his soldiers.

"They win this round."

Panaka blanched. "But, Your Majesty, we can't-"

"Captain," Padme interrupted, her eyes locking with his. "I said to

throw down your weapons."

Panaka gave her a look that suggested he clearly thought she had lost

her mind. Then he dropped his blaster to the floor and motioned for his men

to do the same.

The destroyer droids skittered forward to take them prisoner.

But

before they reached the Naboo, Padme was able to complete a quick

transmission on her comlink.

"Have faith, Captain," she urged a bewildered Panaka, her voice cool

and collected as she slipped the comlink out of sight again.

Things were not going well for the Gungan army. Like the Naboo, the

Gungans were no match for the destroyer droids. Slowly, but surely, they

were being pushed back, unable to stand against the relentless Trade

Federation attack. Here and there along their beleaguered lines, cracks were

beginning to appear in their defense.

Jar Jar Binks was at the heart of one of those points.

For a time, his had been one of the strongest positions, his soldiers

rallied by what they mistakenly believed to be his unrivaled bravery,

turning a rout into a counterattack. But the counterattack had extended

itself too far, and with the appearance of the destroyer droids, it

collapsed completely. Now Jar Jar and his comrades were in flight, falling

back to where the rest of the army crouched in the shadow of the failing

generator shield, desperately trying to find a way to regroup.

Jar Jar, his kaadu long since lost, was running for his life.

Desperate

to increase the distance between himself and the pursuing destroyer droids,

he caught up with a fleeing wagon filled with dozens of the energy balls

used by the Gungan catapults. Grabbing hold of the wagon gate, he tried to

haul himself into the bed, the wagon jouncing and creaking over the uneven

ground. But in his effort to save himself, he unwittingly released the latch

on the gate, causing it to flop open. Energy balls released out the back in

a wild tumble, bouncing and rolling backward in a swarm. Jar Jar danced out

of the way, scrambling to avoid being struck. He was successful in this, but

the less nimble destroyer droids on his heels were not. Energy balls smashed

into them, exploding on contact, and droid after droid went up in a rain of

fire and shattered metal.

"Tis good!" Jar Jar howled in glee, watching the Federation droids

wheeling this way and that in an effort to escape the carpet of energy balls

rolling into them.

Elsewhere, however, the battle was taking a turn for the worse.

Destroyer droids had broken through the Gungan lines fronting the shield

generators, and were firing their weapons into the machines over and over.

The fambaa on which the generators rode shuddered and dropped to their

knees, the generators smoking and sparking. Abruptly, the force field began

to waver and fade. OOM-9, watching it all through electrobinoculars, was

quick to report back to the Neimoidian command. Federation tanks were

ordered forward at once, their guns firing anew.

When General Ceel saw the shield generators lose power, he realized the

battle was lost. The Gungans had done all they could for the Queen of the

Naboo. Turning to his staff, he signaled for a retreat. The battle horns

sounded the call, wailing out across the grasslands, and the entire Gungan

army began to fall back.

Jar Jar had gained control of a new mount and was riding madly for the

safety of the swamp. Fleeing in the midst of pursuing droids and tanks, he

had his kaadu blown out from under him and was thrown sideways onto the back

of a nearby tank's gun turret. Hanging on for dear life, he rode the enemy

vehicle across the plains as the battle raged on all about him. The droids

inside the tank quickly became aware of his presence, and the driver tried

to throw him off by swiveling the turret gun from side to side. But Jar Jar

had a death grip on the barrel, hugging it tightly to him, and refused to be

dislodged.

"Hep me! Hep me!" he screamed out.

Captain Tarpals astride a kaadu worked his way alongside the tank,

yelling at Jar Jar to jump. Laser fire ricocheted off the tank, barely

missing Jar Jar as he struggled to overcome his fear and break free of his

precarious perch. Hatches were beginning to open and droid heads to appear.

His eyes widened as he saw weapons being lifted and brought to bear.

He jumped then, flinging himself clear of the tank, landing awkwardly

behind the Gungan who had stayed to save him. The kaadu, burdened by two

riders, lurched wildly, then righted itself and swerved quickly away.

Explosions mushroomed all around them, sending gouts of dirt skyward,

and Jar Jar Binks, arms wrapped around the other rider, eyes closed in

terror against the chaos taking place all around him, was pretty sure that

this was the end.

Anakin Skywalker, meanwhile, was caught up in the midst of a dogfight

between Naboo and Federation starfighters. Still struggling to get off

autopilot, he had avoided engagement with the enemy mostly because his craft

was flying in an erratic, evasive manner that took it out of combat range

every time it got too close for comfort. Fighters were exploding all around

him, some so close he could see the pieces as they flew past his canopy.

"Whoo, boy, this is tense!" he breathed as he tried switch after switch

on the control panel, the fighter dipping and yawing in response to his

unwelcome interference with its operation.

But he was learning the control panel, too, his trial-and-error

exploration yielding knowledge of what various switches, buttons, and levers

did. The downside to all this was that the firing triggers to the laser guns

had locked, and try as he might, he could not find a way to break them free.

He glanced up from his search at a loud beep from R2-D2 to find a pair

of Federation fighters approaching him head-on.

"Artoo, Artoo, get us off-!"

The astromech droid overrode the rest of what he was going to say with

a series of frantic whistles.

"I've got control?" Anakin exclaimed in shock.

He seized the steering, flipped on the power feeds, and jammed the

thruster bars left. To his surprise and everlasting gratitude, the fighter

banked sharply in response, and they shot past the fighters and rode into a

new swarm of combatants.

"Yes! I've got control!" Anakin was ecstatic. "You did it, Artoo!"

The astromech droid beeped at him through the intercom, a short, abrupt

exchange.

Anakin's eyebrows shot up as he read the display. "Go back to Naboo?

Forget it! Qui-Gon told me to stay in this cockpit, and that's what I'm

gonna do! Now, hang on!"

His enthusiasm overrode his good sense, and he whipped his fighter

toward the center of the battle. All of his flying instincts kicked in, and

he was back in the Podraces on Tatooine, a part of his ship, locked in on

the intoxicating challenge of winning. Forgotten was his promise to look

after Qui-Gon and Padme; they were too far away for him to think about them

now. All that mattered was that he had found his way into space, taken

command of a starfighter, and been given a chance to live his dream.

An enemy fighter drifted into his sights ahead. "Sit tight, Artoo,"

he

warned. "I'm gonna blast this guy."

He brought his ship into firing position behind the Trade Federation

craft, remembering belatedly that the triggers to his laser guns were

locked. Frantically, he searched for the release.

"Which one, Artoo?" he shouted into his helmet. "How do I fire this

thing?"

R2-D2 beeped wildly.

"Which one? This one?"

He punched the button the astromech droid had indicated, but instead of

releasing the firing mechanism, it accelerated the fighter right past the

enemy ship.

"Whoa!" Anakin gasped in dismay. Now the Trade Federation fighter was

on his tail, maneuvering into firing position against him. Anakin yanked

hard on the steering, shooting past the massive Federation battleship,

screaming out into the void in a series of evasive actions.

"That wasn't the release!" the boy screamed into his intercom.

"That

was the overdrive!"

R2-D2 whistled a sheepish reply. The enemy fighter was behind them

again and closing. Anakin banked his ship hard to the right and brought it

back toward the blockade and the swarming fighters. Wrenching the

stabilizers in opposite directions, he began to spin his fighter like a top.

R2-D2 shrieked in despair.

"I know we're in trouble!" Anakin shrieked back. "Just hang on! The way

out of this mess is the way we got into it!"

He streaked toward the control station, taking the enemy fighter with

him. Laser blasts ripped past him, barely missing. He waited a second

longer, until he was so close to the battleship that the emblem of the Trade

Federation painted on the bridge work loomed like a wall, then engaged the

reverse thrusters and banked right again.

His fighter nearly stalled, dropping away like a stone for a heart

-

wrenching moment before stabilizing. The enemy fighter, on the other hand,

had no time to respond to the maneuver and rocketed past him into the side

of the battleship, exploding in a shower of fire and metal parts.

Reengaging the forward thrusters, Anakin wheeled the ship about,

searching for new enemies. Through his canopy, he could see a handful of

Naboo starfighters engaged in attacking the I" Trade Federation flagship.

Ric Olie's voice came over the intercom. "Bravo Three! Go!; for the

central bridge!"

"Copy, Bravo Leader," came the response.

A squad of four fighters plummeted toward the battleship, lasers

firing, but the big ship's deflector shields turned the attack aside

effordessly. Two of the fighters were hit by cannon fire and exploded into

ash. The remaining two broke off the attack.

"Their shields are too strong!" one of the surviving pilots shouted

angrily. "We'll never get through!"

Anakin, in the meantime, was under attack once more. Another Federation

fighter had found him and was giving chase. The boy jammed the thruster bars

forward and sped down the hull of the flagship, twisting and turning through

its channels and around its tangle of protrusions, laser fire ricocheting

past in a constant stream.

"I know this isn't Podracing!" Anakin snapped at R2-D2, as the

astromech droid beeped reprovingly at him. But in his heart, it felt as if

it were. A fierce glee rushed through him as he whipped the Naboo fighter

along the length of the battleship. The speed and the quickness of the

battle fed into him in a rush of adrenaline. He would not have been anywhere

else for the world!

But this time his luck ran out. As he neared the ship's tail, a laser

blast struck his fighter a solid blow, knocking it into a stomach-lurching

spin. R2-D2 screamed anew, and Anakin fought desperately to regain control.

"Great gobs of bantha poodoo!" the boy hissed, fighting to stabilize

his stricken craft.

He was hurtling directly toward the hull, and he pulled back on the

thruster bars, cutting power and drifting into a long slide. He regained

control too late to turn back, and pointed the ship toward a giant opening

at the battleship's center. Cannon fire whipped all about him as the droids

controlling the flagship's guns tried to bring him down, but he was past

them in a microsecond, rocketing into the battleship's cavernous main

hangar. Reverse thrusters on full power, dodging transports, tanks,

fighters, and stacks of supplies, he struggled to keep his fighter airborne

as he looked for a place to land.

R2-D2 was beeping wildly. "I'm trying to stop!" Anakin shouted in

reply. "Whoa! Whoa! I'm trying!"

The Naboo fighter struck the decking and bounced, reverse thrusters

powering up in an effort to brake the craft. A bulkhead loomed ahead,

blocking the way. Anakin brought the fighter down on the decking with a

bone-jarring thud and held it there, skidding down the rampway in a screech

of metal. The fighter slowed and did a half turn and came to an unsteady

halt. The power drive stalled and then failed completely.

R2-D2 whistled in relief.

"All right, all right!" Anakin gasped, nodding to himself. "We're down.

Let's get the engines started again and get out of here!"

He ducked down to adjust the feeders to the fuel lines, checking the

control panel indicators worriedly. "Lights are all red, Artoo.

Everything's

overheated."

He was working on the coolants when R2-D2 beeped suddenly in warning.

The boy popped his head over the edge of the cockpit and looked out into

the

hangar. "Oh, oh," he muttered softly.

Dozens of battle droids were approaching across the hangar floor,

weapons raised menacingly. Their only escape route was blocked.

23

Obi-wan Kenobi prowled the front end of the service corridor to the

melting pit like a caged animal. He was furious at himself for getting

trapped so far from Qui-Gon and furious with Qui-Gon for letting this happen

by rushing ahead instead of waiting for him. But he was worried, too.

He

could admit it to himself, privately, if only just. They should have won

this battle long ago. Against any other opponent, they would have. But the

Sith Lord was battle trained and seasoned well beyond anyone they had ever

encountered before. He had matched them blow for blow, and they weren't any

closer to winning this fight now than they had been in the beginning.

Obi-Wan stared down the length of the corridor, measuring the distance

he would have to travel to reach Qui-Gon and his antagonist when the lasers

paused. He had caught a glimpse of them deactivating while rushing to

catch

up with Qui - Gon, then of reactivating again in a matter of seconds.

He

would have to be quick. Very quick. He did not want the Master facing this

tattooed madman alone.

Down the way, pinned between two walls of laser beams, Qui-Gon Jinn

knelt in meditation, facing toward the Sith Lord and the melting pit, his

head lowered over his lightsaber. He was gathering himself for a final

assault, bringing himself in tune with the Force. Obi-Wan did not like the

weariness he saw in the slump of the older man's shoulders, in the bow of

his back. He was the best swordsman Obi-Wan had ever seen, but he was

growing old.

Beyond, the Sith Lord worked at binding up his wounds, a series of

burns and slashes marked by charred tears in his dark clothing. He was

backed to the edge of the chamber beyond, keeping a close watch on Qui- Gon,

his red and black face intense, his yellow eyes glinting in the half light.

His lightsaber rested on the floor before him. He saw Obi-Wan staring and

smiled in open derision.

At that instant, the laser beams warding the service corridor went off.

Obi-Wan sprinted ahead, launching himself down the narrow passageway,

lightsaber raised. Qui-Gon was on his feet as well, his own weapon flashing.

He catapulted through the opening that led into the melting pit and closed

with the Sith Lord, forcing him back, out of the passageway completely.

Obi-Wan put on a new burst of speed, howling out at the antagonists ahead,

as if by the sound of his voice he could bring them back to him.

Then he heard the buzz of the capacitors kicking in once more, cycling

to reactivate the lasers. He threw himself ahead, still too far from the

corridor's end. He cleared all the gates but the last, and the lasers

crisscrossed before him in a deadly wall, bringing him to an abrupt stop

just short of where he needed to be.

Lightsaber clutched in both hands, he stood watching helplessly as

Qui-Gon Jinn and Darth Maul battled on the narrow ledge that encircled the

melting pit. A stream of electrons was all that separated him from the

combatants, but it might as well have been a wall of permacrete three meters

thick. Desperately he cast about for a triggering device that might shut the

system down, but he had no better luck here than he'd had at the other end.

He could only watch and wait and pray that Qui-Gon could hold on.

It appeared that the Jedi Master would. He had found a fresh reserve of

strength during his meditation, and now he was attacking with a ferocity

that seemed to have the Sith Lord stymied. With quick, hard strokes of his

lightsaber, he bored into his adversary, deliberately engaging in

close-quarters combat, refusing to let the other bring his double-bladed

weapon to bear. He drove Darth Maul backward about the rim of the overhang,

keeping the Sith Lord constantly on the defensive, pressing in on him

steadily. Qui-Gon Jinn might no longer be young, but he was still powerful.

Darth Maul's ragged face took on a frenzied look, and the glitter of his

strange eyes brightened with uncertainty.

Good, Master, Obi-Wan thought, urging him on voicelessly, anticipating

Qui-Gon's sword strokes as if they were his own.

Then Darth Maul back-flipped across the melting pit, giving himself

some space in which to recover, gaining just enough time to assume a new

battle stance. Qui-Gon was on him in an instant, covering the distance

separating them in a rush, hammering into the Sith Lord anew. But he was

beginning to weary now from carrying the battle alone. His strokes were not

so vigorous as before his face bathed with sweat and taut with fatigue.

Slowly, Darth Maul began to edge his way back into the fight, becoming

the aggressor once more.

Hurry! Obi-Wan hissed soundlessly, willing the lasers to pause and the

gates to come down.

Stroke for stroke, Qui-Gon and Darth Maul battled about the rim of the

melting pit, locked in a combat that seemed endless and forever and could be

won by neither.

Then the Sith Lord parried a downstroke, whirled swiftly to the right,

and with his back to the Jedi Master, made a blind, reverse lunge. Too late,

Qui-Gon recognized the danger. The blade of the Sith Lord's lightsaber

caught him directly in the midsection, its brilliant length burning through

clothing and flesh and bone.

Obi-Wan thought he heard the Jedi Master scream, then realized it was

himself, calling his friend's name in despair. Qui-Gon made no sound as the

blade entered him, stiffening with the impact, then taking a small step back

as it was withdrawn. He stood motionless for an instant, fighting against

the shock of the killing blow. Then his eyes clouded, his arms lowered, and

a great weariness settled over his proud features. He dropped to his knees,

and his lightsaber clattered to the stone floor.

He was slumped forward and motionless when the lasers abruptly went off

again, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, seething with rage, rushed to his rescue.

Nute Gunray stood with Rune Haako and four members of the Trade

Federation Occupation Council as Captain Panaka, one of the Queen's

handmaidens, and the six Naboo soldiers who had fought to protect them were

marched into the Theed palace throne room by a squad of ten battle droids.

The viceroy recognized Panaka at once, but he was unclear as to the identity

of the handmaiden who accompanied him. He was looking for the Queen, and

while this handmaiden bore a certain resemblance to her...

He caught himself in surprise. It was the Queen, without her makeup and

ornate robes, stripped of her symbols of office. She looked even younger

than she had in ceremonial garb, but her eyes and that cool gaze were

unmistakable.

He glanced at Rune Haako and saw the same confusion mirrored in his

associate's face.

"Your Highness," he greeted as she was led up to him.

"Viceroy," she replied, confirming his conclusion as to her identity.

That settled, he swiftly assumed the pose of a captor confronting his

captive. "Your little insurrection is at an end, Your Highness. The rabble

army you sent against us south of the city has been crushed. The Jedi are

being dealt with elsewhere. And you are my captive."

"Am I?" she asked quietly.

The way she spoke the words was unnerving. There was something

challenging in the way she said them, as if she were daring him to disagree.

Even Panaka turned to look at her.

"Yes, you are." He pressed ahead, wondering suddenly if he had missed

something. His face lifted. "It is time for you to put an end to the

pointless debate you instigated in the Republic Senate. Sign the treaty

now."

There was a commotion outside the doorway leading into the throne room,

the sound of blasters and the shattering of metal, and all at once Queen

Amidala was standing in the anteway beyond, a clutch of battle droids

collapsed on the floor and a handful of Naboo soldiers warding their Queen

against the appearance of more.

"I will not be signing any treaty, Viceroy!" she called out to him,

already beginning to move away. "You've lost!" For a moment Nute Gunray was

so stunned he could not make himself move. A second Queen? But this was the

real one, dressed in her robes of office, wearing her white face paint,

speaking to him in that imperious voice he had come to recognize so well.

He wheeled toward the battle droids holding Panaka and the false Queen

at bay. "You six! After her!" He gestured in the direction of the

disappearing Amidala. "Bring her to me! The real one, this time-not some

decoy!"

The droids he had indicated rushed from the room in pursuit of the

Queen and her guards, leaving the Neimoidians and the four remaining droids

with their Naboo captives.

Gunray wheeled on the handmaiden. "Your Queen will not get away with

this!" he snapped, enraged at having been deceived.

The handmaiden seemed to lose all her bravado, turning away from him

with her head lowered in defeat, moving slowly toward the Queen's throne and

slumping dejectedly into it. Nute Gunray dismissed her almost at once,

turning his attention to the other Naboo, anxious to have them taken away to

the camps.

But in the next instant the handmaiden was back on her feet, any sign

of dejection or weariness banished, a blaster in either hand, pulled from a

hidden compartment in the arm of the throne. Tossing one of the blasters to

Captain Panaka, she began firing the second into the depleted squad of

battle droids. The droids were caught completely by surprise, their

attention fixed on the Naboo guards, and the handmaiden and Panaka

dispatched them in a flurry of shots that left the throne room ringing with

the sound of weapons fire.

Shouting instructions to the Naboo, the handmaiden-if that's who she

really was, because by now Nute Gunray was beginning to think

otherwise-moved to the throne room doors, triggering the locks. The doors

swung shut, the bolts engaged, and the girl smashed the locking mechanism

with the butt of her weapon.

She turned then to the Neimoidians, who were huddled together in

confusion at the center of the room, eyes darting this way and that in a

futile search for help. All the battle droids lay shattered on the floor,

and the Naboo had seized their blasters.

The handmaiden walked up to Gunray. "Let's start again, Viceroy,"

she

said coolly.

"Your Highness," he replied, tight-lipped, realizing the truth too

late.

She nodded. "This is the end of your occupation."

He stood his ground. "Don't be absurd. There are too few of you.

It

won't be long before hundreds of destroyer droids break in here to rescue

us."

Even before he finished, there was the sound of heavy wheels in the

anteway, then of metal bodies unfolding. The viceroy permitted himself a

satisfied smile. "You see, Your Highness? Rescue is already at hand."

The Queen gave him a hard look. "Before they make it through that door,

we will have negotiated a new treaty, Viceroy. And you will have signed it."

Free at last of the laser wall, Obi-Wan Kenobi charged out of the

service tunnel and into the chamber that housed the melting pit.

Abandoning

any pretense of observing even the slightest caution, he barreled into Darth

Maul with such fury that he almost knocked both of them off the ledge and

into the abyss. He struck at the Sith Lord with his lightsaber as if his own

safety meant nothing, lost in a red haze of rage and frustration, consumed

by his grief for Qui-Gon and his failure to prevent his friend's fall.

The Sith Lord was borne backward by the Jedi Knight's initial rush,

caught off guard by the other's wild assault, and pressed all the way back

to the far wall of the melting pit. There he struggled to keep the young

Jedi at bay, trying to open enough space between them to defend himself.

Lightsabers scraped and grated against each other, and the chamber echoed

with their fury. Lunging and twisting, Darth Maul regained the offensive and

counterattacked, using both ends of his lightsaber in an effort to cut

Obi-Wan's legs out from under him. But Obi-Wan, while not so experienced as

Qui-Gon, was quicker. Anticipating each blow, he was able to elude his

antagonist's efforts to bring him down.

The struggle took them around the edge of the melting pit and into the

nooks and alcoves beyond, into shadowed recesses and around smoky pillars

and pipe housings. Twice, Obi-Wan went down, losing his footing on the

smooth flooring of the melting pit's rim. Once, Darth Maul hammered at him

with such determination that he scorched the young Jedi's tunic, shoulder to

waist, and it was only by countering with an upthrust counterstrike to the

other's midsection and by rolling quickly away and back to his feet that

Obi-Wan was able to escape.

They fought their way back toward the laser-riddled service passage,

past Qui-Gon's still form, and into a tangle of vent tubes and circuit

housings. Steam burst from ruptured pipes, and the air was filled with the

acrid smell of scorched wiring. Darth Maul began to use his command of the

Force to fling heavy objects at Obi-Wan, trying to throw him off balance, to

disable him, to disrupt the flow of his attack. Obi-Wan responded in kind,

and the air was filled with deadly missiles. Lightsabers flicked right and

left to ward off the objects, and the clash of errant metal careening off

stone walls formed an eerie shriek in the gloom.

The battle wore on, and for a time it was fought evenly. But Darth Maul

was the stronger of the two and was driven by a frenzy that surpassed even

the frantic determination that fueled Obi-Wan. Eventually, the Sith Lord

began to wear the young Jedi down. Bit by bit, he pressed him back, carrying

the attack to him, looking to catch him off guard. Obi-Wan could sense his

body weakening, and his fear of what it would mean if he, too, were to fall,

began to grow.

Never! he swore furiously.

Qui-Gon's words came back to him. Don't center on your fears.

Concentrate on the here and now. He struggled to do so, to contain the

emotions warring within and bearing him down. Be mindful of the living

Force, my young Padawan. Be strong.

Sensing his opportunity slipping away from him and his strength waning,

Obi-Wan mounted a final assault. He rushed the Sith Lord with a series of

side blows designed to bring the two-bladed lightsaber horizontal. Then he

feinted an attack to his enemy's left and brought his own lightsaber over

and down with such force that he severed the other's weapon.

Crying out in fury, he cut triumphantly at the Sith Lord's horned head,

a killing blow. And missed completely.

Darth Maul, anticipating the maneuver, had stepped smoothly away.

Discarding the lesser half of his severed weapon, he counterattacked

swiftly, striking at Obi-Wan with enough force that he knocked the young

Jedi sideways and off balance. Quickly he struck him again, harder still,

and this time Obi-Wan lost his footing completely and tumbled over the edge

of the pit, his lightsaber flying from his hand. For an instant, he was

falling, tumbling away into the dark. He reached out in desperation and

caught hold of a metal rung just below the lip of the pit.

There he hung, helpless, staring up at a triumphant Darth Maul.

When Anakin Skywalker got a look at the number of battle droids

surrounding his starfighter, he ducked back out of sight again at once.

If

it had been at all possible, he would have vanished into the ship's fuselage

and willed them both right through the hangar floor to a safer haven.

"This is not good," he told himself softly.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tried to decide what to do. He was

just a boy, but he had experience with being in tight places and a cool head

when it came to dealing with trouble. Find a way out of this! he admonished

himself.

A quick glance at the main and sublevel control panels revealed that

all the indicator lights were still red. No help there.

"Artoo," he whispered. "The systems are still overheated. Can you do

something?"

Footsteps approached, and a metallic droid voice demanded, "Where is

your pilot?"

R2-D2 beeped bravely in reply.

"You are the pilot?"

The astromech droid whistled affirmatively.

There was a confused pause. "Show me your identification," the battle

droid commanded, reverting to rate.

Anakin could hear the sound of switches clicking and circuits kicking

in. R2-D2 was still trying to save them. Good old Artoo. The astromech droid

beeped softly at Anakin, and the boy saw the systems lights change abruptly

from red to green.

"Yes, Artoo!" he hissed in relief. "We're up and running!" He threw the

ignition switches, and the fighter's engines roared to life. Swiftly, he

leapt from hiding and took his place in the pilot's seat, hands reaching for

the steering.

The droid commander saw him now and brought up his weapon. "Leave the

cockpit immediately or we will disable your craft!"

"Not if I can help it!" the boy threw back, reaching for the

deflectors. "Shields up!"

Hauling back on the steering, he released the antigrav lifts.

The

starfighter rose from the hangar floor, throwing off the droid commander,

sending him sprawling in a crumpled heap. The droids under his command began

firing their blasters, the laser beams ricocheting off the fighter's

deflectors, angling away in a tangle of bright streamers.

R2-D2 beeped wildly. "The gun locks are off!" Anakin exclaimed with a

joyful shout. "Now we'll show them!"

He punched in the firing buttons and held them down, rotating the

fighter clockwise above the hangar floor. Laser beams rocketed in a pinwheel

pattern, scything into the unprotected battle droids, disabling them before

they could even think to flee. Anakin was howling with glee, caught up in

the exhilaration of finding himself back in control. Lasers firing, he swept

the hangar floor clean of droids, watching those still distant rush for

cover, watching ships and supplies fly apart as the deadly beams cut through

them.

Then something moved at the end of a long corridor, no more than a

shadow, and deep inside, his instincts kicked into high gear, shrieking at

him in a frenzy of need. He didn't know if what he was seeing was a weapon

or a machine or something else, and it didn't matter. He was back in the

Podraces, locked in battle with Sebulba, and he could see what no one else

could, what was hidden from all others. He reacted without thinking,

responding to a voice that spoke to him alone, that whispered always of the

future while warding him in the present.

Acting of its own accord, faster than thought, his hand left the laser

firing buttons and threw a double-hinged switch to the right. Instantly, a

pair of torpedoes sped down the corridor in the direction of the shadow.

The

torpedoes whipped past the battle droids, supply stacks, transports, and

everything else, and disappeared through a broad vent.

The boy groaned. "Darn! Missed everything!" Giving the matter no

further thought, he swung the fighter about swiftly and threw the thruster

bars forward. The power drive kicked in with a ferocious roar, and the

starfighter shot across the hangar deck, scattered droids in every

direction, and catapulted back out into space, cannon fire from the

battleship chasing after it in a stream of deadly white fire.

Darth Maul walked slowly to the edge of the melting pit, tattooed face

bathed in sweat, eye~ wild and bright with joy. The battle was finished.

The

last Jedi was about to be dispatched. He smiled and shifted the remnant of

his shattered lightsaber from one hand to the other, savoring the moment.

Eyes fixed on the Sith Lord, Obi-Wan Kenobi went deep inside himself,

connecting with the Force he had worked so hard to understand.

Calming

himself, stilling the trembling of his heart, and banishing his anger and

fear, he called upon the last of his reserves. With clarity of purpose and

strength of heart, he launched himself away from the side of the pit and

catapulted back toward its lip. Imbued with the power of the Force, he

cleared the rim easily, somersaulting behind the Sith Lord in a single

smooth, powerful motion. Even as he landed, he was drawing Qui-Gon Jinn's

fallen lightsaber to his outstretched hand.

Darth Maul whirled to confront him, shock and rage twisting his red and

black face. But before he could act to save himself, Qui-Gon's lightsaber

slashed through his chest, burning him with killing fire. The stricken Sith

Lord howled in pain and disbelief.

Then Obi-Wan turned, thumbed his saber off, and watched his dying enemy

tumble away into the pit.

"Whoa, this is way better than Podracing!" Anakin Skywalker shouted at

R2-D2, grinning broadly as he zigzagged his Naboo fighter back and forth to

throw the gunners off.

The astromech droid was beeping and chirping as if he had fried all his

circuits, but the boy refused to listen, rolling and banking the starfighter

wildly, angling back toward Naboo and away from the control station.

Then a shocked voice came over the intercom from another of the

fighters. "Bravo Leader, what's happening to the control ship?"

In the next instant, a flash of pulsing light swept past him.

He

glanced over his shoulder and saw the battleship he had escaped wracked by a

series of explosions. Huge chunks tore away from the core, hurtling into

space.

"It's blowing up from the inside!" the voice on the intercom exclaimed.

"Wasn't us, Bravo Two," Ric Olie replied quickly. "We never hit it."

The battleship continued to break apart, the explosions tearing through

it, shattering it, engulfing it, and finally consuming it altogether in a

brilliant ball of light.

Debris flew past the canopy of Anakin's fighter, and the light of the

explosions faded to black.

"Look!" Bravo Two broke the sudden silence anew. "That's one of ours!

Gutta the main hold! Must've been him!"

Anakin cringed. He had hoped he might get back to the planet unseen,

avoid having to explain to Qui-Gon what he was doing up here. There was no

chance of that now.

R2-D2 beeped reprovingly at him. "I know, I know," he muttered wearily,

and wondered just how much trouble he had gotten himself into this time.

Blaster shots hammered into the door of the throne room in the palace

at Theed. Captain Panaka and the Naboo soldiers spread out to either side in

a defensive stance, preparing a crossfire for the droids. Nute Gunray wanted

to move out of range, but the Queen was still facing him, her blaster

leveled at his midsection, and he did not care to risk provoking her into a

hasty action. So he stood there with the others of the Trade Council, frozen

in place.

Then abruptly, everything went still. All sound of weapons fire and

droid movement beyond the battered throne room doors ceased.

Captain Panaka looked at the Queen, his dark face uncertain.

"What's

going on?" he asked worriedly.

Amidala, her weapon pointed at Nute Gunray, shook her head.

"Try

communications. Activate the viewscreens."

Her head of security moved quickly to do so. All eyes were on him as he

slowly brought the outer screens into focus.

On the Naboo grasslands, the Gungan army had been overrun. Some of the

Gungans had escaped back into the swamp on their kaadu, and some had fled

into the hills west. All were being chased by battle droids on STAPs and by

Trade Federation tanks. There was not much hope that they would remain free

for long.

Most of the Gungans had already been taken prisoner, Jar Jar Binks

among them. He stood now in a group of Gungan officers that included General

Ceel. All around them, their fellow Gungans were being herded away by Trade

Federation droids.

"Dis very bombad," Jar Jar ventured disconsolately.

General Ceel nodded, equally forlorn. "Me hope dis worken for da

Queen."

Jar Jar sighed. And Annie, Quiggon, Obi-One, Artoo, and all the rest.

He wondered what had happened to them. Had they been captured, too?

He

thought suddenly of Boss Nass. Da Boss wasn't gonna like this one bit.

Jar

Jar hoped he wasn't going to get the blame, but he couldn't quite rule out

the possibility. Suddenly, all the droids started shaking violently.

Some

began to run around in circles, others to dip and sway as if their gears had

snapped and their circuits shorted out. Tanks skidded to a halt and

STAPscrashed. All activity came to a complete stop.

Jar Jar and General Ceel exchanged a confused look. The droid army had

locked up. For as far as the eye could see, it stood frozen in place.

Gungan prisoners stared at the motionless droids. Finally, at General

Ceel's urging, Jar Jar edged out of the containment circle and touched one

of his metal captors. The droid tipped over and lay lifeless on the grass.

"Dis loony," Jar Jar whispered, and wondered what in the world was

going on.

Obi-Wan did not pause to consider what it had cost him to win his

victory over Darth Maul, but rushed immediately to Qui-Gon. Kneeling at the

Jedi Master's side, he lifted his head and shoulders and cradled him gently

in his arms.

"Master!" he breathed in a whisper.

Qui-Gon's eyes opened. "Too late, my young Padawan."

"No!" Obi-Wan shook his head violently in denial.

"Now you must be ready, whether the Council thinks you so or not.

You

must be the teacher." The strong face twisted in pain, but the dark eyes

were steady. "Obi-Wan. Promise me you will train the boy."

Obi-Wan nodded instantly, agreeing without thinking, willing to say or

do anything that would ease the other's pain, desperate to save him.

"Yes,

Master."

Qui-Gon's breathing quickened. "He is the chosen one, Obi-Wan. He will

bring balance to the Force. Train him well."

His eyes locked on Obi-Wan's and lost focus. His breathing stopped.

The

strength and the life went out of him.

"Master," Obi-Wan Kenobi repeated softly, still holding him, bringing

him closer now, hugging the lifeless body against his chest, and crying

softly. "Master."

24

Three days later, Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in a small room of the Theed

temple in which the deaths of heroes were mourned and their lives

celebrated. Qui-Gon Jinn's body lay in state on a bier in the plaza just

outside, awaiting cremation. Already the citizenry and officials of the

Naboo and the Gungan peoples were gathering to honor the Jedi Master.

Much had changed in the lives of those who had fought in the struggle

for Naboo sovereignty. With the collapse of the droid army, the Trade

Federation's control over Naboo had been broken. All of the ground

transports, tanks, STAPs, and weapons and supplies were in the hands of the

Republic. Viceroy Nute Gunray, his lieutenant, Rune Haako, and the remainder

of the Neimoidian occupation council had been shipped as prisoners to

Coruscant to await trial. Senator Palpatine had been elected as supreme

chancellor of the Republic, and he had promised swift action in the

dispensing of justice to the captives. Queen Amidala had outfoxed the

Neimoidians one final time by pretending to surrender so she could gain safe

access to the viceroy before he had time to flee. She had communicated to

Sabe to break away from the struggle taking place several floors below and

to use the service passages to reach the Queen's chambers and then make her

appearance before the viceroy. It was a calculated risk, and Sabe might not

have been able to get there in time. Had she not, Amidala would have

triggered the secret compartment release and fought for her freedom in any

case. She was young, but she was not without courage or daring. She had

shown intelligence and insight from the beginning of the time the Jedi had

come to assist her. Obi-Wan thought she would make a very good Queen.

But it was a nine-year-old boy who had saved them all. Even without

knowing exactly what he was doing, Anakin Skywalker had flown a starfighter

into the teeth of the Federation defense, penetrated their shields, landed

in the belly of the Neimoidian flagship, torpedoed the ship's reactor, and

set off a chain reaction of explosions that destroyed the control station.

It was the destruction of the central transmitter that had caused the droid

army to freeze in place, their communications effectively shortcircuited.

Anakin claimed not to have attacked with any sort of plan in mind or fired

his starfighter's torpedoes with any expectation of hitting the reactor.

But

after hearing the boy's tale and questioning him thoroughly, Obi-Wan

believed Anakin was guided by something more than the thinking of ordinary

men. That extraordinarily high midichlorian count gave the boy a connection

to the Force that even Jedi Masters on the order of Yoda might never

achieve. Qui-Gon, he now believed, had been right. Anakin Skywalker was the

chosen one.

He paced the room, dressed in fresh clothing for the funeral, soft,

loose - fitting, sand-colored Jedi Knight garb, Qui-Gon's lightsaber, now

his own, hanging from his belt. The Jedi Council had come to Naboo for the

funeral and to speak again with Anakin. They were doing so now, close by,

making a final assessment based on what had transpired since their last

session with the boy. Obi-Wan thought the outcome of their deliberations

must be a foregone conclusion. He could not imagine now that it wouldn't

be.

He stopped his pacing and stared momentarily at nothing, thinking of

Qui - Gon Jinn, his Master, his teacher, his friend. He had failed Qui-Gon

in life. But he would carry on his work now, honoring him in death by

fulfilling his promise to train the boy, no matter what.

Listen to me, he thought, smiling ruefully. I sound like him.

The door opened, and Yoda appeared. He entered the room In a slow

shuffle, leaning on his walking stick, his wizened face sleepy-eyed and

contemplative.

"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan greeted, hurrying forward to meet him, bowing

deferentially.

The Jedi Master nodded. "Confer on you the level of Jedi Knight, the

Council does. Decided about the boy, the Council is, Obi-Wan," he advised

solemnly.

"He is to be trained?"

The big ears cocked forward, and the lids to those sleepy eyes widened.

"So impatient, you are. So sure of what has been decided? "

Obi-Wan bit his tongue and kept his silence, waiting dutifully on the

other. Yoda studied him carefully. "A great warrior, was Qui-Gon Jinn,"

he

gargled softly, his strange voice sad. "But so much more he could have been,

if not so fast he had run. More slowly, you must proceed, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan stood his ground. "He understood what the rest of us did not

about the boy."

But Yoda shook his head. "Be not so quick to judge. Not everything, is

understanding. Not all at once, is it revealed. Years, it takes, to become a

Jedi Knight. Years more, to become one with the Force."

He moved over to a place where the fading light shone in through a

window, soft and golden. Sunset approached, the appointed time for their

farewell to Qui-Gon.

Yoda's gaze was distant when he spoke. "Decided, the Council is,"

he

repeated. "Trained, the boy shall be."

Obi-Wan felt a surge of relief and joy flood through him, and a

grateful smile escaped him.

Yoda saw the smile. "Pleased, you are? So certain this is right?"

The

wrinkled face tightened. "Clouded, this boy's future remains, Obi-Wan.

A

mistake to train him, it is."

"But the Council-"

"Yes, decided." The sleepy eyes lifted. "Disagree with that decision, I

must."

There was a long silence as the two faced each other, listening to the

sounds of the funeral preparations taking place without. Obi-Wan did not

know what to say. Clearly the Council had decided against the advice of

Yoda. That in itself was unusual. That the Jedi Master chose to make a point

of it here emphasized the extent of his concerns about Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan spoke carefully. "I will take this boy as my Padawan, Master. I

will train him in the best way I can. But I will bear in mind what you have

told me here. I will go carefully. I will heed your warnings. I will keep

close watch over his progress."

Yoda studied him a moment, then nodded. "Your promise, then, remember

well, young Jedi," he said softly. "Sufficient, it is, if you do."

Obi-Wan bowed in acknowledgment. "I will remember." Together, they went out into a blaze of light.

The funeral pyre was lit, the fire building steadily around the body of

Qui-Gon Jinn, the flames slowly beginning to envelop and consume him.

Those

who had been chosen to honor him encircled the pyre. Queen Amidala stood

with her handmaidens, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, Governor Sio Bibble,

Captain Panaka, and an honor guard of one hundred Naboo soldiers. Boss Nass,

Jar Jar Binks, and twenty Gungan warriors stood across from them.

Linking

them together were the members of the Jedi Council, including Yoda and Mace

Windu. Another clutch of Jedi Knights, those who had known Qui-Gon longest

and best, completed the circle.

Anakin Skywalker stood with Obi-Wan, his young face intense as he

fought to hold back his tears.

A long, sustained drum roll traced the passage of the flames as they

reduced Qui-Gon to spirit and ash. When the fire had taken him away, a

flight of snowy doves was released into a crimson sunset. The birds rose in

a flutter of wings and a splash of pale brilliance, winging swiftly away.

Obi-Wan found himself remembering. For his entire life, he had studied

under the Jedi, and Qui-Gon Jinn, in particular. Now Qui-Gon was gone,

and

Obi - Wan had passed out of an old life and into a new. Now he was a Jedi

Knight, not a Padawan. Everything that had gone before was behind a door

that had closed on him forever. It was hard to accept, and at the same time,

it gave him an odd sense of release.

He looked down at Anakin. The boy was staring at the ashes of the

funeral bier, crying softly.

He put his hand on one slim shoulder. "He is one with the Force,

Anakin. You must let him go."

The boy shook his head. "I miss him."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I miss him, too. And I will remember him always.

But

he is gone."

Anakin wiped the tears from his face. "What will happen to me now?"

The hand tightened on the boy's shoulder. "I will train you, just as

Qui - Gon would have done," Obi-Wan Kenobi said softly.

"I am your new Master, Anakin. You will study with me, and you will

become a Jedi Knight, I promise you."

The boy straightened, a barely perceptible act. Obi-Wan nodded to

himself. Somewhere, he thought, Qui-Gon Jinn would be smiling.

Across the way, Mace Windu stood with Yoda, his strong dark face

contemplative as he watched Obi-Wan put his hand on Anakin Skywalker's

shoulder.

"One life ends and a new one begins in the Jedi order," he murmured,

almost to himself.

Yoda hunched forward, leaning on his gnarled staff, and shook his head.

"Not so sure of this one as of Qui-Gon, do I feel. Troubled, he is.

Wrapped

in shadows and difficult choices."

Mace Windu nodded. He knew Yoda's feelings on the matter, but the

Council had made its decision. "Obi-Wan will do a good job with him,"

he

said, shifting the subject. "Qui-Gon was right. He is ready."

They knew of what the young Padawan had done to save himself from the

Sith Lord in the melting pit after Qui-Gon had been struck down. It took an

act of extraordinary courage and strength of will. Only a Jedi Knight fully

in tune with the Force could have saved himself against such an adversary.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had proved himself beyond everyone's expectations that day.

"Ready this time, he was," Yoda acknowledged grudgingly. "Ready to

train the boy, he may not be."

"Defeating a Sith Lord in combat is a strong test of his readiness for

anything," the Council leader pressed. His eyes stayed with Obi-Wan and

Anakin. "There is no doubt. The one who tested him was a Sith."

Yoda's sleepy eyes blinked. "Always two there are. No more, no less.

A

master and an apprentice."

Mace Windu nodded. "Then which one was destroyed, do you think-the

master or the apprentice?"

They looked at each other now, but neither could provide an answer to

the question.

That night Darth Sidious stood alone on a balcony overlooking the city,

a shadowy figure amid the multitude of twinkling lights, his visage dark and

angry as he contemplated the loss of his apprentice. Years of training had

gone into the preparation of Darth Maul as a Sith Lord. He had been more

than the equal of the Jedi Knights he had faced and should have been able to

defeat them easily. It was bad luck and chance that had led to his death, a

combination that even the power of the dark side could. not always overcome.

Not in the short run, at least.

His brow furrowed. It would be necessary to replace Darth Maul.

He

would need to train another apprentice. Such a one would not be easy to

find.

Darth Sidious walked to the railing and put his hands on the cool

metal. One thing was certain. Those responsible for killing Darth Maul would

be held accountable. Those who had opposed him would not be forgotten.

All

would be made to pay.

His eyes glittered. Still, he had gotten what he wanted most from this

business. Even the loss of Darth Maul was worth that. He would bide his

time. He would wait for his chance. He would lay the groundwork for what was

needed.

A smile played across his thin lips. A day of reckoning would come

about soon enough.

There was a grand parade the following day to publicly recognize the

newfound alliance of the Naboo and Gungan peoples, to celebrate their hard -

fought victory over the Trade Federation invaders, and to honor those who

had fought to secure the planet's freedom. Crowds lined the streets of Theed

as columns of Gungan warriors astride kaadu and Naboo soldiers aboard

speeders rode through the city to the sounds of cheering and singing.

Fambaa

lumbered down the avenues, draped in rich silks and embroidered harnesses,

heads weaving from side to side on long necks. Here and there, a captured

Federation tank hovered amidst the marchers, Naboo and Gungan flags flying

from cannons and hatchways. Jar Jar Binks and General Ceel led the Gungans,

both riding their kaadu, Jar Jar managing to stay aboard this time for the

entire parade, though he looked to those in attendance to be having a bit of

trouble doing so.

Captain Panaka and the Queen's own guards stood at the top of the stone

steps in the central plaza, watching the parade approach. Panaka's uniform

was creased, metal insignia on his epaulets gleaming, proud and strong.

Anakin Skywalker stood with Obi-Wan Kenobi near the Queen. He was

feeling out of place and embarrassed. He thought the parade wonderful, and he appreciated being honored with the others, but

his mind was elsewhere.

It was with Qui-Gon, gone back into the Force.

It was with Padme, who had barely spoken to him since he had been

accepted for training by the Jedi Council.

It was with his home, to which he might never return.

It was with his mother, whom he wished could see him now.

He wore the clothing of a Jedi Padawan, his hair cut short in the

Padawan style, a student in training to become a Knight of the order. He had

achieved all that he had hoped in coming with Qui-Gon to Coruscant and

beyond. He should have been happy and satisfied, and he was. But his

happiness and satisfaction were clouded by the sadness he could not banish

at losing Qui-Gon and his mother both. They were lost to him in different

ways, to be sure, but they were gone out of his life. Qui-Gon had provided

the stability he required to leave his mother behind. With the Jedi Master's

death, Anakin was left adrift. There was no one who could give him the

grounding that Qui-Gon had provided-not Obi-Wan, not even Padme. One day,

perhaps. One day, each of them would playa part in his life that would

change him forever. He could sense that. But for now, when it mattered

most,

he felt all alone.

So he smiled, but he was sick in spirit and lost in his heart..

Perhaps sensing his discomfort, Obi-Wan reached over to put a

reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's the beginning of a new life for you,

Anakin," he ventured.

The boy smiled back dutifully, but said nothing.

Obi-Wan looked off at the crowds in front of them. "Qui-Gon always

disdained celebrations. But he understood the need for them, as well.

I

wonder what he would have made of this one."

Anakin shrugged.

The Jedi smiled. "He would have been proud to see you a part of it."

The boy looked at him. "Do you think so?"

"I do. Your mother would be proud of you as well."

Anakin's mouth tightened, and he looked away. "I wish she was here.

I

miss her."

The Jedi's hand tightened on his shoulder. "One day you will see her

again. But when you do, you will be a Jedi Knight."

The parade wound through the central plaza to where the Queen and her

guests viewed the procession. She stood with her handmaidens, Governor Sio

Bibble, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, Boss Nass of the Gungans, and the

twelve members of the Jedi Council. R2-D2 occupied a space just below the

handmaidens and next to Anakin and Obi-Wan, domed head swiveling from side

to side, lights blinking as his sensors took everything in.

R2 beeped at the boy, and Anakin touched the little droid's shell

gently.

Boss Nass stepped forward and held the Globe of Peace high over his

head. "Dis grand party!" an exuberant Jar Jar shouted above the noise of

cheering and clapping. "Gungans and Naboo, dey be friends forever, hey?"

His enthusiasm made Anakin smile in spite of himself. The Gungan was

dancing up and down, long ears flapping, gangly limbs twisting this way and

that as he mounted the steps. Jar Jar would never let the bad things in life

get him down, the boy thought. Maybe there was a lesson to be learned in

that.

"We bombad heroes, Annie!" Jar Jar laughed, lifting his arms over his

head and showing all his teeth.

The boy laughed. He guessed maybe they were.

On the broad avenue below, in a long, colorful ribbon of life, the

parade that had carried them to this place and time continued on.