When Anakin landed on Naboo a few days later, he was soon greeted by an upset Queen.

"Anakin! Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you!" Padmé admonished.

"I...apologize, Padmé, both for the difficulty I have caused, and for my...outburst. As a token of my apology, I offer you this." Anakin said, gesturing to a large container that was about the size of the royal yacht. Anakin had to bribe a freighter to carry it here for him, as his Interceptor was actually smaller than the crate.

"What is it?"

"A little ...something to aid in supplementing your no doubt diminished and overworked security forces."

"Well, in that case, thank you. I'm sure they will appreciate it. Now, I have taken the liberty of making living arrangements for you, until something permanent can be found."

"Oh? And what are those...arrangements?" Anakin said, a little put out he was not consulted, but he knew there would be no malice or duplicity in whatever she had arranged.

"Yes. My parents have offered to let you stay with them."

That took Anakin aback.

"I...see. I will be sure to express my gratitude for their hospitality when I am introduced to them."

Padmé chuckled.

"Don't worry. My father is used to helping out people with nowhere to go. He used to be the President of the Refugee Relief Movement."

"Am I to take it that the Movement is now assisting Naboo, in gratitude for his previous service?"

While Padmé was both young and relatively naive for a politician, she knew what he was hinting.

"They aid us because they are good people, not because of anything my father did." She said reprovingly.

"I did not intend to imply otherwise."

Just that he wouldn't be surprised if Naboo jumped a few places in the queue.

She nodded as she accepted his 'apology'.

"Now, why don't you go ahead and meet them? I'm afraid I have other duties to attend to. They should be waiting just outside the spaceport."

"As you wish, your Majesty." He replied, then strode off.

"Captain Panaka, could you open that container for me?" She said, as she turned to her ever-present Chief of Security.

He nodded, and then operated a control panel, opening the container.

It revealed one hundred yellow-painted and chromium-plated Droidekas.

Panaka swallowed, despite having a dry mouth.

"I...think I can find a use for these." He said, finally.

Padmé sighed.

"What am I going to do with that boy?" She complained.

Said boy was presently being introduced to her parents.

"Greetings. I am Anakin Skywalker, an...acquaintance of your daughter, the Queen. She has informed me that you were hospitable enough to offer me quarters for the time being. I would be honored if you were to accept my gratitude for such generosity."

"Oh, there's no need to be so formal, Anakin. And don't worry about it. We were dealt a good hand, being as well-off as we are. The least we could do is spread that good fortune to others." Ruwee protested.

"That is a very...virtuous philosophy to have, Lord Naberrie."

"Thank you. And please, call me Ruwee. Speaking of which, I think Padmé would be rather put-out you don't think of her as a friend."

"I would like to, but I do not wish to presume familiarity. There are few things that... irritate me as much as those who think themselves great merely because they have spoken two words to those that are great."

Ruwee chuckled.

"Don't worry, we don't think you're out to ride Padmé' coattails. So, my lovely daughter told me you were a pilot. What do you fly?"

"A Seinar Systems Star Courier. It is modified to have a medical bay, cloaking device, trace dampers, and given a sensor upgrade."

Ruwee whistled.

"That is a nice piece of hardware. I fly an HT-2200, myself, but I'm thinking about selling it, as I don't need to haul around refugees anymore."

"I would sell it anyway, and get a Loronar medium freighter instead, if you wish to continue aiding refugees. You will have to completely replace the hyperdrive, but it will offer better cargo space, and will keep flying forever if you have a mechanic who is more than half-awake. If you want something just to take for a joy-ride, however, I would recommend an HWX-290."

Jobal groaned.

"Anakin, please don't get him started. We're going to be here all day, if you do."

"My apologies."

.

Padmé walked up to the droid technician, who was giving the Droidekas Anakin 'donated' a once-over.

"Are they capable of being put into use? I don't trust the Federation to not put in an override." She asked.

"They did, but it was itself overridden. Whoever did this knew what he was doing. It was a brute-force rush job, but it works. The only problem is that the person given priority access is you, not the Queen of Naboo."

Padmé was about to argue that she was the Queen, but stopped.

"You are saying that once I no longer wear the crown, it will obey me, rather than my successor?"

"Exactly. But, that's easily fixed. If we use the brute force framework that your 'donor' put in, it will work fine without us needing to do anything, and then we just need a week to program in the new Monarch when you no longer hold the title. If we replace the framework with a more sophisticated one, it would do that automatically, but it would take us a couple of months, if not a couple of years, to write a new system from scratch."

"Would there be other benefits to putting in a new system?"

"Definitely. Like I said, this one's very skin-and-bones. However, one thing scares me. The tactical protocols."

"Why? What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing. That's the problem. The tactics, patrol patterns, that sort of thing? They were so well thought out that droids or no, Captain Panaka said he was going to implement them into the Royal Guard. Whoever programmed the droids was a better tactician than our Head of Security. There's even a protocol for if a Jedi attacks you. I had one of the Jedi that the Order asked to guard you look over it. He said not only would it take down the Jedi in question, it would take less than a quarter-minute. That is scary in so many ways."

"I see. If you can spare the time, get to work writing that new framework, but try and keep the tactical protocol intact, if it's so good."

"Yes, your Majesty." The tech replied.

Her duties done for the day, she decided to get dressed in less formal attire, so she could spend time with her parents and Anakin.

When she arrived at the Naberrie house, she entered a scene she could not even begin to describe how...wrong it was.

Ruwee glared at the nine year old.

"You should listen to your elders, boy. You clearly don't know the first thing about this Galaxy."

"And your mind is so rotted by age you cannot see sense, old man." Anakin retorted, returning the glare.

"The Mon Calamari make wonderful ships!"

"If you wish to sacrifice function for making your vessel look like a cancer-ridden Opee Sea Killer!"

"Kuat just re-uses its designs over and over again!"

"Which obviously work, so why shouldn't they?"

"Mon Calamari ships work! They even make redundant systems standard!"

"Which they wouldn't need to do if they were capable of making a functioning system in the first place! As it is, it just drives up maintenance costs having to buy two of every part when you should only need one!"

"What's going on here?" Padmé asked.

"What's going on is that you should get your Father to a home, as it is obvious senility is starting to take hold." Anakin replied.

"And you should get this kid in a school, as he obviously has had substandard education!"

"These two are having an argument over which ship manufacturer is better." Jobal said, her face in her hands.

Padmé rolled her eyes. "Boys."


AN:Happy Star Wars Day!