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  mis^judgment,  and he would be out of the race and lucky ifhe 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 addi^tional 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 exacdy 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 multi^hinged joints, stalk eyes, heads that swiveled   degrees,  and bodies that twisted as if boneless  gave  advantages  to  other  creatures  that humans could not begin to overcome. The most fa^mous 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 attrib^utes 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 rock^strewn 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  mi:x of patterns and shapes, and still he could  see  so  clearly.  All  the  details seemed to jump out at him, as ifilluminated 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  ham^mer  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 ofTatooine'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' dis^trict of Mos Espa, a dingy mud-and-sand hut fronting an enclo^sure 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 ofHuttese.
     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 prop^erty, 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 ifhe 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 J edi 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 acknowl^edge 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 con^venience. 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 J edi  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 ifhe  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, Arnidala, 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 Arnidala 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 ofFedera^tion 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 contemplatjon 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  rever^ently.  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? 1 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 J ern 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. Mut^ters 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 Arnidala herself," Rune Haako  whispered,  just  out  ofholocam view.
     Nute Gunray nodded, moving closer. "At  last  we're  gettin~  results,"  he whispered back. He moved to where he could be seen by the Queen. Cloaked in  her ceremonial robes, Arnidala 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 leadIery 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 1 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? 1 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 dIe  fire  in her brown eyes. "I have had enough of pretense, Viceroy. I  am  aware  that  dIe supreme chancellor's ambassadors are with  you  now,  and  dIat  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 dIe 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 dIe 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 sus^pects 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 cir^culation  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.  Mixe-d  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 ofNaboo, 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~f 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 distante, 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 run^ners 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  irri^tated.  "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  elec^tropole, 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  ofJedi 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 sul^lenly,  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 offocus."
     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, any^what. 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 Se.nate 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 ofNaboo.
     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 pro^pel 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  magni^tude,  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 some~g 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 J edi 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 flail^ing 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 ofDarth 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 coun - '  tenance,  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 transforma^tion. "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 ifhe 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 ques^tionable 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  J  edi.  "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 J awas 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  J  awas  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 encour^aged 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 sand^crawler 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 capabil^ities  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  comp.artment  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 peevisWy. 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  balithas  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 iresponsibility 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 ab^sently 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 ifhe 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 J edi 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 con^fronted by the dark, faceless shapes of the Sand People of his dreams.
     Anakin swallowed hard. Motionless figures against the hori^zon'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 draids obtained from  the  J  awas 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  ofTheed  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  confis^cated  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 ofNaboo 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  Gunraywas  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 dy^nasties 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?"
     Arnidala 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 glean1ing 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 direcdy 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 Arnidala  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 slighdy. "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 batde 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  J  edi  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  Je-di  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 un^locked 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  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  Iher  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 sem^blance 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 direcdy 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  J edi.
     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 violendy 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 ma^neuverable, 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  on^slaught  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 ofNaboo 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  com^mended.  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?" Arnidala 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  Arnidala.
     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. Padrne 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 Padrne, 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 himselft'O 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 ofMos 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. "1 need parts for a J-type  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 defiandy 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 otber  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 cho-pas 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 beauti^fu1 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 ~creen  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 sugges^tive 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  evi^dent  in  his voice.
     Watto flew  in  from  the  salvage  yard,  shaking  his  head  in  disgust.
     "Oudanders! 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  pa^tiendy, but Jar Jar prowled the space as if trapped, eyes fixed ner-. vously 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 sav^ing, 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
     Arnidala and her handmaidens Eirtae and Rabe viewing  a  hologram  ofSio  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 ofhov^els 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, shav^ing 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 offorty, 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 shc;>p 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, Jy^ing 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  rela^tions.  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 sufficiendy 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 quiedy, 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 unintelli^gible  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. ~ 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 ac^quire 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 J edi Knight  had  founded  the  Sith,  a singular dis^sident 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 nad 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.  Disdain^ing  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 J edi they must save themselves. The Sith who  reinvented  the  order  called  himselfDarth  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 Rutts 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 impa^tiendy 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 him 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 J edi 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 compa,ssion 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 cl~ar, 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  shovel^ing  and sweeping away drifts of sand, reassembling  stalls  and  awnings,  and  righting carts and damaged fences. Eopies and ron^tos 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.awaywordlessly.
     
     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!ge 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  ofWatto.  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. Ifwe 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-D2Iend^ing  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 com1ink 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
     Arnee. "This is such a joke, Annie."
     "You've been working on that thing for years," Arnee 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.
     "Corne 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 Arnee 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.
     "1st numm! 1st 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 J edi 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 wind^milling 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 long^range 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 ~o view the control panel strapped to his forearm, picked out the settings he wished to engage, and punched in the  calcqiations  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 interest^edly. "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 midi-chlorian 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 midi-chlorian 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~y  a  light  pro^jecting  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 fin^gered 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 J edi 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  ofTatooine'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  Padmt,  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.  1  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 'ern up, Kitster!"  He  turned  back  to
     Padrne. "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 Anakiwill. 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 draWll 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 doWll 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 holi^day. 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 J edi  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  ten^sion  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 Toydarlan. 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, crowd^ing 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  ofTatooine 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 Rutts 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 Rutts, 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 fasten^ings with sharp tugs.
     "...Mawhonic tutaHok," Jabba boomed. "Teemto Pagalies tuta  Moonus  Mandel.
     Anakin Skywalker tuta Tatooine..."
     Applause burst from the crowd, though it was not as enthusi^astic 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. Hitch^ing 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. J abba 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 electro^magnetic currents arcing between ~oaxial  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 foun^tained  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  offlame  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 slighdy. But when Xelbree was next to him, the Dug triggered a side vent in his left exhaust. Fire  spewed  lat^erally 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 trans^mitted from droid observation holocams. From a monitoring tower, a two-headed announcer who bantered  incessandy  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  J  abba  '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 ofQui-Gon and gestured rudely, his meaning clear.
     Below, at the start line, Ben Quadinaros still  struggled  to  ig^nite  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 work^ings 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 un^derstandings that transcended his senses and knowledge, project^ing 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 fast^closing Ody Mandrell banked too hard over a sandy  rise  and caught his engine in  the  sand.  Ody's  racer  cartwheeled  in  a  spec^tacular 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 happene4 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
     (ormer 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 Ibe^side 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 offboth  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, pon^dering the way the boy handled a Podracer, the maturity he  ex^hibited,  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,  Arniie--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 con^siderable 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. Good^byes and thank-yous  were exchanged, but it was an awkward moment for Anakin. He looked as ifhe.'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 $e 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 midi-chlorian 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 Qlli-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 Arnee 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  ifhe 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. "1 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 WallO  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  coinci^dence.  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 J edi 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 t6 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, ~sh 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 ofMos  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  ofTatooine,  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  maneuver^ability  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  offits  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 at^tacker'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 ofhim 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 J edi 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 om 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 om 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. Padrne 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," Padrne 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  re  -  '  pulsorlifts 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 ofTatooine'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 ofNaboo, 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  con^vened  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. he 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 cglightly 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 accom^plishing 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  memo^ries, 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 hus^band?" 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 Gun~an 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  concen^trating  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 Arnidala 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 ofNaboo guards escorted them.
     Arnidala 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 quiedy.
     Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin recognized Padme staring  out  at  him from beneath her con~ealing 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  shutde 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 J edi 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 shutde with the Queen, Anakin and Jar Jar setded quiedy 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 shuttle^craft. 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 1 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 sur^rounds 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 voic~. "The courts take even longer to  decide  things than the Senate." She  shifted  purposefully,  an  edge  sharp^ening  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 J edi  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 J edi, 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  interconnec^tion  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 vi^tal 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  midi- chlorians I have ever seen in a life-form." He paused. "It is  possible  he  was conceived by midi-chlorians."
     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  midi-chlorians.
     Comprising collective consciousness and intelligence, the midi-chlorians  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 rpidi^chlorians,  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 Pal patine, 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, imagin^ing 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 fi.xed 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 ofNaboo."
     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  ofNaboo.  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  subju^gated  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 ofNaboo  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 reg^ister 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 Val^orum'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 b~x 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 Valorus," 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, 1 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  an^guished face.
     Less than an hour later, Anakin burst through the open doors of the Queen's antechamber in search  ofPadme  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.
     HE PHANTOM MENACE
     "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 midi-chlorian 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 ofJedi 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 sig^nificant in the scheme of  things.
     Obi-Wan studied his mentor surreptitiously. Why did he in^sist on pursuing these hopeless causes? The Council might find the boy possessed of more midi-chlorians 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  mom  en^tary  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  intro^ductions  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, ofWatto, 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 Aniidala 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 Cor uscant. An odd pairing at best, th.e 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 gold^trimmed 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 surpnse, 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 inter^ruption  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!"
     Pana,ka 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."
     Arnidala'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  midi-chlorians."
     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 in^tercede ifit 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 midi-chlorians?"
     Wind whipped at Qui-Gon's long hair,  blowing  strands  of  it  across  his strong face. "Midi-chlorians 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 midi-chlorians.
     "
     "Symbi-what?"
     "Symbionts. Life-forms living together for mutual  advantage.  Without  the midi-chlorians, life could not exist, and we would  have  no  knowledge  of  the
     Force. Ourmidi-chlorians 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  incli^nation  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 horne,
     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 ofDarth 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 ar^rives, 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]edi."
     "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 absorb^ing 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 midi-chlorian 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,  apparendy  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  setde  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 J edi Knights, Captain Panaka, Anakin, R2 - D2,
     Ric Olie and several other  pilots,  and  a  handful  ofNaboo  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 quiedy, 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 J edi."
     He recounted the story  for  her,  detailing  the  events  surrounding  his appearance before the Jedi Council. Padme listened  intendy,  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 batde?" 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 offriendship.  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 1  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. "1 am Queen Amidala," she announced in  a  loud,  clear voice. "Sabe serves from time to time as my decoy,  my  loyal  bodyguard.  1  am sorry for my  deception,  but  given  the  circumstances,  1  am  sure  you  can understand." She turned to the Jedi,  her  eyes  shifting  momentarily  to  find
     Anakin. "Gentle^men, 1 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 im^prisoned in camps.  Ifwe  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 auto^maticallyon 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 casual^ties 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 ~eaponry. 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 com^mander-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 offhis 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 N aboo 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 silendy 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 ri 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  thank^ful  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 differendy  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. 1 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  1  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 ifhe  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  fasten^ings,  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 bran^dished 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 un^folded  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~inks 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  retal^iated.  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, inflict^ing 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 J edi  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,,:as 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 lfts 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  bursm 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 ofPadme 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. Clam^bering 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,  drown^ing 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 ofNaboo 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 J edi, Padme, and  Panaka, and then the entire Naboo fighting force began to move toward  an  exit  in  the hangar that took them direcdy 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 ifhe was stuck here in this empty hangar.
     
     He was still wrestling with the matter when  the  entire  group  slowed  in front of the exit do!>r. 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 J edi 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 stea~y 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  ifhe  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 J edi 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 moor^ing 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 ofNaboo 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, undeci~ed.
     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  J  edi  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  tbeeps  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
     Otic and the Naboo pilots who had taken off ahead of him.
     "TtIis 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 Otic 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 conceiv^able 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  J edi 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 J edi 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 J edi 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.
     PadmeNaberrie, 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 entan^gled 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  pa^trol  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 ofweap^ons 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 Neirnoidian 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 over^matched 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," Pidme 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 unri^valed 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~ng 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. Abrupdy, 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,  la,nding  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 tAe 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 micro^second, 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 N aboo 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 help^lesslyas  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  voice^lessly,  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 direcdy 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  abrupdy  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 resem^blance 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  con^fronting  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 Republi.c 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 ring^ing 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 fmished, 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 counter^strike 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. Dont 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 aIld  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  doy.rn  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 Olit 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 abrupdy, 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  over^run.  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
     Arnidala 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 exacdy 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 short^circuited. Anakin  claimed  not to have attacked with any sort of  plan  in  mind  or  fired  his  starfighter's torpedoes with anyexpecta^tion 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 midi-chlorian 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 ofQui-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 balconyoverlook^ing 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  combin~tion  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 ~hance. 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  ofTheed  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 Ceelled 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?"
     "1 do. Your mother would be proud of you as well."
     Anakin's mouth tightened, and he looked away. "1 wish she was here. 1  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 littledroid's shell gendy.
     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.