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.