Author's Email Address: Tinkerclaire@aol.com
Disclaimer: None of the settings, story lines, or characters portrayed are mine unless it or they are expressly said to be, and no profit is being made from it.
Archive: Email me. God knows why you would want to. Hopefully, though, all my insecurities are baseless.
Summary: Another one of those where in TPM, the Queen and company don't land on Tatooine, but go straight to Coruscant.
Author's Note: In TPM time period, Amidala's plan works even without Anakin, Qui-Gon doesn't die. Anakin's seventeen in this story, which makes Padmé twenty-two. I don't want Obi-Wan old, so I'll say he's twenty and Qui- Gon's thirty-five, and leave it at that. Hey, this is MY story.
I really want to have interaction with all those who read this story. I would like a beta-reader, (send me an intelligent email strewn with knowledge of writing, and I'll pick you) and perhaps a co-author. IDEAS ARE MOST WELCOME! And please, don't flame me without explaining why. I'm not stupid, I can learn. Nitpicking is welcome. Name the chapter, paragraph, and write out the sentence how it is, and how it should be.
Ok, sorry, that's all! On with the story..
~Something~ is thoughts
Italics is another language
/blah/ is thought speak or something of that sort
*** is a change of scene
*** Chapter One
There was a reason that the Outer Rim worlds were mainly ruled by gangsters and criminals, home to the worst scoundrels and outlaws. Since they were so far away from the reach of the Galactic Republic, not more than one or two of the star systems were a part of it. Which made it very difficult for the Jedi when they needed to make a harmless visit to usurp a tyrant, or rescue a leading figure in politics who had been sold as a slave to the aforementioned tyrant as a slave.
Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi raced towards the ship, blaster bolts filling the air around them. They usually managed to complete their missions on the first try, despite the odds-but this time it looked like they wouldn't be able to. They hadn't even gotten a glimpse of the person they were supposed to save when Jabba's security system, newly installed, kicked in.
"It could be worse," Obi-Wan remarked as he deftly blocked two bolts at once.
"It could always be worse, Padawan." Qui-Gon blocked two bolts at once as well, initiating the competition they sometimes started up on missions. "We could be dead."
"Or knocked out and chained to a wall in a torture chamber." Obi-Wan deflected two blaster bolts back to their guns. Qui-Gon did the same, and they continued to back towards their ship.
" Or we could be awake in a torture chamber." Qui-Gon preformed the same move with three bolts at the same time, never wavering in deflecting all the others coming their way, as well. Obi-Wan grinned, and did the same as he did a back flip. Qui-Gon put a hand behind his back and copied him.
"Jedi are not to show off," Obi-Wan teased, as he copied the move. "I know something worse. We could be teaching the four-year-old crèche mates how to swim."
"I had that perfectly under control," Qui-Gon stated calmly. Then he saw a glint of something on one of the roofs of the buildings close by.
/RUN!/ He sent the message in the form of a strong urge, so Obi-Wan wouldn't even waste a second on deciphering words. When the ship was blown up, they were far enough away that they weren't killed by the explosion. The guns stopped, and there was a time in which they could have run away, and gotten lost in the crowds of Mos Espa. Unfortunately, both Jedi were unconscious.
***
Mos Espa was always busy, but when there was a pod race going on, the place was a lot quieter and slow moving, with nearly a third of the population either at the arena, or, failing that, watching the race on their holovid. This cut down on the noise level considerably. Anakin Skywalker was glad for it-not having people coming into the shop looking to buy things made it easier for him to work. Not that he wouldn't rather be doing other things, but work was nothing he wasn't used to, and it was definitely unavoidable in this case, since he'd crashed Watto's pod again. And now he was stuck in the junk yard behind his master's small shop in the merchant's district underneath the blazing suns, trying to figure out a solution to the uncomfortable position he was in.
Anakin wished he had three arms for what wasn't the first time. He shifted just a bit as his side began to itch again, then regretted it as he almost let go of the wires he was holding to the side with one tool, at the same time as he was trying to fix the circuitry that the wires were usually hiding with his other hand. He lowered his gaze again to the small tool that he needed which lay just to the right of where he was sitting cross- legged. His dark-blond hair flipped into his eyes, and he blew it back without thinking, keeping it from the gaze now focused intently on the tool.
The oddly shaped piece of metal, designed just for the repair of pod racers, began to shake, and Anakin's look sharpened as it rose from the ground and floated slowly to the dissected pod racer. When it reached its destination, the seventeen-year-old, never wavering, let go of the tool holding the wires back. It stayed where it was, floating in the air, and he took hold of the small tool that was still poised in front of the burnt wires, and set to work.
The pod was repaired in minutes, and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. He'd only made things move without touching them twice. Once was to give a cheating rival's pod a nudge during a race, and that was spur of the moment, to save his own life-he had only realized what must have happened after the race was over. The other time he hadn't even been awake, but had woken up one morning from a dream of flying through the stars and crashed down on his bed from where he was floating three feet above it. He'd nearly sweated with the effort this time.
Anakin straightened and slightly winced as he stretched his legs for the first time in what seemed to be hours. His thoughts drifted as he replaced his (Watto's) pod's metal casing and cleaned off all the tools he'd used, lovingly replacing them where they went on his (Watto's) workbench. Everything that Anakin used was Watto's, actually, even his own body, but that didn't mean he had to think of it like that. Watto was just.there. He wasn't going anywhere, and neither was Anakin, so he might as well think of it as his pod and his workbench. No real reason not to. Although he might be reminded of it more in the days and years to come. Watto was expanding his business, and the Toydarian was out at this second getting two more slaves to work in the shop. He was on very good terms with the Hutts lately, and one sign of status that no one could refute was slaves.
Anakin had been owned by Watto since he was about three. His mother had been a slave along with him until he was eleven, when a moisture farmer named Lars had bought her, then freed and married her. After that, it had just been Anakin in the small quarters that they'd shared. Watto had always been there, and the two had, over the years, developed a casual coexistence, how he'd yelled at Anakin to come and watch the shop, or clean this, or clean this, or fix that, or did he know how much money he'd cost him by crash landing his pod?! It would certainly be different, having two other slaves here, but he would probably always have the top position with Watto, no matter how many slaves he bought.
Done with what he had been told had better be done before Watto got back, Anakin walked quickly to the slave's quarters to clean off the various liquids and such that he'd gotten on himself while immersed in repairs, and to change his clothes. It was still two hours before midday, and he would probably get just as dirty again, but he wanted to make a good impression on the unlucky souls who were to share his life from now on. And it was a little hard to make a good impression(or to feel up to introductions) when you're covered in grime. Anakin grinned at that thought as the door slid shut behind him in the small rooms he inhabited, and he shed his clothes on the way to the 'fresher.
He returned to the shop shortly, sticking to the shaded back streets so as to stay out of the sun, and prevent the inevitable return of dirt from occurring in the form of dust and sand kicked up by hundreds of others he would have passed in the main streets. When he got back to the shop, Watto was flying in circles around two men, yelling at them in Basic. Something about rules. As far as Anakin knew, there was only one rule-do what you're told or they'll kill you. But Watto did like to elaborate.
"And if either of you ever try to escape, you step a foot outside your bounds, and the transmitters we put in you will-"
Anakin cut Watto off by clapping his hands loudly, miming an explosion and making the two men look his way. He was surprised they hadn't jumped, but maybe they'd heard him come in. Watto would have jumped, he could tell, but since he was in the air, all he could really do was jerk. He looked over at Anakin and laughed loudly, flying away from the new slaves towards him, talking in that strange mixture of language that so many people used so often, Anakin included, of Huttese with thickly accented basic words.
"Alright, boy, these two, they gonna be stayin' with you. Why pay for more rooms, eh? They're just caught-" he snickered, then continued, "-so you might have to teach them how to act. I have an important business meeting now, it's going to take a few days. I'm gonna be on Nal Hutta, you're racing there in a month, but you have to get everything set up before, spread the word, know what I mean, huh?" Anakin nodded, and Watto flew out the door. He thought over what Watto had said, intrigued. He'd never raced anywhere but Tatooine, even though Watto had gone on "business trips" before.
/At least I know I'm definitely keeping my position, / Anakin thought. Any slave that would be trusted alone to run his master's business while said master was on another planet was certainly highly regarded. He was even on a first name basis with a great deal of high-ranking customers. High ranking on Tatooine, anyway.
He turned his attention to the new slaves, studying their appearances. He wasn't going to speak right away, just to make it obvious that he saw new slaves every day, and just because these two were here, that didn't make them special. This was mainly instinct on his part. If you wanted to survive on this planet, you learned aggressive body language as soon as you could move.
The older man had long brown hair, past his shoulders, which had gone partly gray. The younger seemed to be around his age, and had reddish gold hair, cropped short save for a short ponytail at the back of his head and a skinny braid behind his ear.
"Do you speak Basic?" he asked them, keeping his voice neutral.
"Yes, we do," the older man answered for himself and the other; Anakin figured that they knew each other, by the way they stood together. Like they had been together for awhile. "I'm Anakin Skywalker." Both men bowed slightly in greeting, which reinforced his suspicion that they knew each other fairly well. Maybe relatives. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Obi-Wan Kenobi."
***
Ok, five reviews, and I'll put up the next part. Good, bad, or God Why Must You Write, please tell me!
Disclaimer: None of the settings, story lines, or characters portrayed are mine unless it or they are expressly said to be, and no profit is being made from it.
Archive: Email me. God knows why you would want to. Hopefully, though, all my insecurities are baseless.
Summary: Another one of those where in TPM, the Queen and company don't land on Tatooine, but go straight to Coruscant.
Author's Note: In TPM time period, Amidala's plan works even without Anakin, Qui-Gon doesn't die. Anakin's seventeen in this story, which makes Padmé twenty-two. I don't want Obi-Wan old, so I'll say he's twenty and Qui- Gon's thirty-five, and leave it at that. Hey, this is MY story.
I really want to have interaction with all those who read this story. I would like a beta-reader, (send me an intelligent email strewn with knowledge of writing, and I'll pick you) and perhaps a co-author. IDEAS ARE MOST WELCOME! And please, don't flame me without explaining why. I'm not stupid, I can learn. Nitpicking is welcome. Name the chapter, paragraph, and write out the sentence how it is, and how it should be.
Ok, sorry, that's all! On with the story..
~Something~ is thoughts
Italics is another language
/blah/ is thought speak or something of that sort
*** is a change of scene
*** Chapter One
There was a reason that the Outer Rim worlds were mainly ruled by gangsters and criminals, home to the worst scoundrels and outlaws. Since they were so far away from the reach of the Galactic Republic, not more than one or two of the star systems were a part of it. Which made it very difficult for the Jedi when they needed to make a harmless visit to usurp a tyrant, or rescue a leading figure in politics who had been sold as a slave to the aforementioned tyrant as a slave.
Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi raced towards the ship, blaster bolts filling the air around them. They usually managed to complete their missions on the first try, despite the odds-but this time it looked like they wouldn't be able to. They hadn't even gotten a glimpse of the person they were supposed to save when Jabba's security system, newly installed, kicked in.
"It could be worse," Obi-Wan remarked as he deftly blocked two bolts at once.
"It could always be worse, Padawan." Qui-Gon blocked two bolts at once as well, initiating the competition they sometimes started up on missions. "We could be dead."
"Or knocked out and chained to a wall in a torture chamber." Obi-Wan deflected two blaster bolts back to their guns. Qui-Gon did the same, and they continued to back towards their ship.
" Or we could be awake in a torture chamber." Qui-Gon preformed the same move with three bolts at the same time, never wavering in deflecting all the others coming their way, as well. Obi-Wan grinned, and did the same as he did a back flip. Qui-Gon put a hand behind his back and copied him.
"Jedi are not to show off," Obi-Wan teased, as he copied the move. "I know something worse. We could be teaching the four-year-old crèche mates how to swim."
"I had that perfectly under control," Qui-Gon stated calmly. Then he saw a glint of something on one of the roofs of the buildings close by.
/RUN!/ He sent the message in the form of a strong urge, so Obi-Wan wouldn't even waste a second on deciphering words. When the ship was blown up, they were far enough away that they weren't killed by the explosion. The guns stopped, and there was a time in which they could have run away, and gotten lost in the crowds of Mos Espa. Unfortunately, both Jedi were unconscious.
***
Mos Espa was always busy, but when there was a pod race going on, the place was a lot quieter and slow moving, with nearly a third of the population either at the arena, or, failing that, watching the race on their holovid. This cut down on the noise level considerably. Anakin Skywalker was glad for it-not having people coming into the shop looking to buy things made it easier for him to work. Not that he wouldn't rather be doing other things, but work was nothing he wasn't used to, and it was definitely unavoidable in this case, since he'd crashed Watto's pod again. And now he was stuck in the junk yard behind his master's small shop in the merchant's district underneath the blazing suns, trying to figure out a solution to the uncomfortable position he was in.
Anakin wished he had three arms for what wasn't the first time. He shifted just a bit as his side began to itch again, then regretted it as he almost let go of the wires he was holding to the side with one tool, at the same time as he was trying to fix the circuitry that the wires were usually hiding with his other hand. He lowered his gaze again to the small tool that he needed which lay just to the right of where he was sitting cross- legged. His dark-blond hair flipped into his eyes, and he blew it back without thinking, keeping it from the gaze now focused intently on the tool.
The oddly shaped piece of metal, designed just for the repair of pod racers, began to shake, and Anakin's look sharpened as it rose from the ground and floated slowly to the dissected pod racer. When it reached its destination, the seventeen-year-old, never wavering, let go of the tool holding the wires back. It stayed where it was, floating in the air, and he took hold of the small tool that was still poised in front of the burnt wires, and set to work.
The pod was repaired in minutes, and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. He'd only made things move without touching them twice. Once was to give a cheating rival's pod a nudge during a race, and that was spur of the moment, to save his own life-he had only realized what must have happened after the race was over. The other time he hadn't even been awake, but had woken up one morning from a dream of flying through the stars and crashed down on his bed from where he was floating three feet above it. He'd nearly sweated with the effort this time.
Anakin straightened and slightly winced as he stretched his legs for the first time in what seemed to be hours. His thoughts drifted as he replaced his (Watto's) pod's metal casing and cleaned off all the tools he'd used, lovingly replacing them where they went on his (Watto's) workbench. Everything that Anakin used was Watto's, actually, even his own body, but that didn't mean he had to think of it like that. Watto was just.there. He wasn't going anywhere, and neither was Anakin, so he might as well think of it as his pod and his workbench. No real reason not to. Although he might be reminded of it more in the days and years to come. Watto was expanding his business, and the Toydarian was out at this second getting two more slaves to work in the shop. He was on very good terms with the Hutts lately, and one sign of status that no one could refute was slaves.
Anakin had been owned by Watto since he was about three. His mother had been a slave along with him until he was eleven, when a moisture farmer named Lars had bought her, then freed and married her. After that, it had just been Anakin in the small quarters that they'd shared. Watto had always been there, and the two had, over the years, developed a casual coexistence, how he'd yelled at Anakin to come and watch the shop, or clean this, or clean this, or fix that, or did he know how much money he'd cost him by crash landing his pod?! It would certainly be different, having two other slaves here, but he would probably always have the top position with Watto, no matter how many slaves he bought.
Done with what he had been told had better be done before Watto got back, Anakin walked quickly to the slave's quarters to clean off the various liquids and such that he'd gotten on himself while immersed in repairs, and to change his clothes. It was still two hours before midday, and he would probably get just as dirty again, but he wanted to make a good impression on the unlucky souls who were to share his life from now on. And it was a little hard to make a good impression(or to feel up to introductions) when you're covered in grime. Anakin grinned at that thought as the door slid shut behind him in the small rooms he inhabited, and he shed his clothes on the way to the 'fresher.
He returned to the shop shortly, sticking to the shaded back streets so as to stay out of the sun, and prevent the inevitable return of dirt from occurring in the form of dust and sand kicked up by hundreds of others he would have passed in the main streets. When he got back to the shop, Watto was flying in circles around two men, yelling at them in Basic. Something about rules. As far as Anakin knew, there was only one rule-do what you're told or they'll kill you. But Watto did like to elaborate.
"And if either of you ever try to escape, you step a foot outside your bounds, and the transmitters we put in you will-"
Anakin cut Watto off by clapping his hands loudly, miming an explosion and making the two men look his way. He was surprised they hadn't jumped, but maybe they'd heard him come in. Watto would have jumped, he could tell, but since he was in the air, all he could really do was jerk. He looked over at Anakin and laughed loudly, flying away from the new slaves towards him, talking in that strange mixture of language that so many people used so often, Anakin included, of Huttese with thickly accented basic words.
"Alright, boy, these two, they gonna be stayin' with you. Why pay for more rooms, eh? They're just caught-" he snickered, then continued, "-so you might have to teach them how to act. I have an important business meeting now, it's going to take a few days. I'm gonna be on Nal Hutta, you're racing there in a month, but you have to get everything set up before, spread the word, know what I mean, huh?" Anakin nodded, and Watto flew out the door. He thought over what Watto had said, intrigued. He'd never raced anywhere but Tatooine, even though Watto had gone on "business trips" before.
/At least I know I'm definitely keeping my position, / Anakin thought. Any slave that would be trusted alone to run his master's business while said master was on another planet was certainly highly regarded. He was even on a first name basis with a great deal of high-ranking customers. High ranking on Tatooine, anyway.
He turned his attention to the new slaves, studying their appearances. He wasn't going to speak right away, just to make it obvious that he saw new slaves every day, and just because these two were here, that didn't make them special. This was mainly instinct on his part. If you wanted to survive on this planet, you learned aggressive body language as soon as you could move.
The older man had long brown hair, past his shoulders, which had gone partly gray. The younger seemed to be around his age, and had reddish gold hair, cropped short save for a short ponytail at the back of his head and a skinny braid behind his ear.
"Do you speak Basic?" he asked them, keeping his voice neutral.
"Yes, we do," the older man answered for himself and the other; Anakin figured that they knew each other, by the way they stood together. Like they had been together for awhile. "I'm Anakin Skywalker." Both men bowed slightly in greeting, which reinforced his suspicion that they knew each other fairly well. Maybe relatives. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is Obi-Wan Kenobi."
***
Ok, five reviews, and I'll put up the next part. Good, bad, or God Why Must You Write, please tell me!