Chapter 7
The sandstorm rages through the streets of Mos Espa in a blinding, choking whirlwind that tore at clothes and exposed skin with relentless force. Anakin holds Padmé'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 is still time. Other residents and visitors struggled past, engage in a similar pursuit, heads lower, faces cover, bodies bend over as if weight by age. Somewhere in the distance, an eopie bawls in fright. The light turns an odd yellowish gray, obscure by sand and grit, and the buildings of the city disappears in a deep, impenetrable haze.
Even as he fought his way through the storm, Anakin's thoughts are directed elsewhere. He is 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 sends a flush through him that was both warm and kind of scary. It makes him feel good about himself. He is thinking of the farmer, too- if that's what he was, which Anakin was pretty sure he wasn't. He carries a lightsaber, and only Jedi carries lightsabers. It is almost too much to hope for, that a real Jedi might be going to his home, to visit him. But Anakin's instincts tells him he is not mistaken, and that something mysterious and exciting has bring this little group to him.
He is 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 reach the slave quarters, a jumbles collection of hovels stack 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 chases everyone under cover. Anakin lead his charges through the gritty gloom to his front door and pushes his way inside.
"Mom! Mom! I'm home!" he calls excitedly. Adobe walls, whitewash and scrub, glimmers softly in a mix of storm-clouded sunlight admitted through small, arched windows and a diffuse electric glow from ceiling fixtures. They stand in the main room, a smallish space dominated by a table and chairs. A kitchen occupied one wall and a workspace another. Openings led to smaller nooks and sleeping rooms. Outside, the wind howls past the doors and windows, shaving a fresh layer of skin from the exterior of the walls.
Jar Jar Binks looks around with a mix of curiosity and relief. "Tis cozy," he murmurs.
Anakin's mother enters from a work area off to one side, brushing her hands on her dress. She is a forty-year-old woman, her long brown hair tied back from her worn face, her clothing rough and simple. She has been pretty once, and Anakin will say she is pretty still, but time and the demands of her life are catching up with her. Her smile is warm and youthful as she greets her son, but it fades quickly as she catch sight of the people behind him.
"Oh, my!" she exclaims softly, glancing uncertainly from face to face. "Annie, what's this?"
Anakin beams. "These are my friends, Mom." He smiles at Padmé and Obi-Wan. "This is Padmé Naberrie and Obi-Wan Kenobi. And this is-" He stops. "Gee, I guess I don't know any of your names," he admitted.
Qui-Gon steps 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 makes a small beep.
"And our droid, Artoo - Detoo," Padme finishes.
"I'm building a droid," Anakin announces quickly, anxious to show Padmé and Obi-Wan his project. "You wanna see?"
"Anakin!" His mother's voice stop him in his track. Resolve tightens her features. "Anakin, why are they here?"
He look at her, confuse. "There's a sandstorm, Mom. Listen."
She glances at the door, then out the windows. The wind howls past, a river of sand and grit.
"Your son was kind enough to offer us shelter," Qui-Gon explains. "We met at the shop where he works."
"Come on!" Anakin insists, grabbing Padmé and Obi-Wan's hand once more. "Let me show you my droid."
He leads Padmé and Obi-Wan toward his bedroom, already beginning a detailed explanation of what he was doing. They follow without arguing, listening attentively. R2-D2 went with them, beeping in response to the boy's words.
Jar Jar stays where he is, still looking around, appearing to want someone to tell him what to do. Qui-Gon stands 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 says, holding out her hand. "Anakin and I are pleased to have you as our guests."
Qui-Gon already appraises the situation and determines what is needed. He reaches 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 accepts the capsules. "Thank you." Her eyes lift and lower 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 offers.
Shmi's eyes lift again, and the look she gives him suggests they share an important secret.
"Yes," she said softly, "I know."
In his bedroom, Anakin is showing Padmé and Obi-Wan C-3PO. The droid lays on his workbench, deactivated at the moment because the boy is in the process of fabricating his metal skin. He completed the internal wiring, but its torso, arms, and legs are still bare of any covering. One eye is out of its head as well, jying nearby where he left it after tightening down the visual refractor the night before.
Padmé bends over his shoulder, studying the droid carefully.
"Isn't he great?" Anakin asks eagerly, anxious for their reaction. "He's not finished yet, but he will be soon."
"He's impressivs," the man answers, genuinely impressed.
The boy flushes with pride. "You really like him? He's a protocol droid... to help Mom. Watch!"
He activates C-3PO with a flip of its power switch, and the droid sits up at once. Anakin rushes around hurriedly, searching, then snatches up the missing eye from his workbench and snaps it into its proper socket.
C-3PO looks 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 snatches up a long-handled tool with an electronic designator and fitted it carefully to a port in C-3PO's head, then ratchets the handle several turns, studying the setting as he did so. When he has it where he wants, he pushes a button on the handle. C-3PO jerks several times in response. When Anakin removes the designator, the droid stand up from the workbench and faces them.
"How do you do? I am See - Threepio, human-cyborg relations. How may I serve you?"
Anakin shrugs. "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 grins at Anakin, delighted. "He's perfect!"
R2-D2 sidles up to them and emits a sharp flurry of beeps and whistles.
C-3PO glances down curiously. "I beg your pardon... what do you mean, I'm naked?"
R2-D2 beeps some more.
"Goodness! How embarrassing!" C-3PO glances quickly over his skeletal limbs. "My parts are showing? My goodness!"
Anakin purses his lips. "Sort of. But don't worry, I'll fix that soon enough." He eases the droid back toward the workbench, glancing over his shoulder at Padmé. "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."
Padmé smiles. "That's okay. I'm very good at keeping secrets. "
The storm continues 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 uses the food capsules Qui-Gon given her to prepare dinner for them. As she works on their meal and while Padmé and Obi-Wan is occupy with Anakin in the other room, Qui-Gon just decides to meditate.
They sit 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 Padmé occupy the ends of the table, while Anakin, Obi-Wan, Jar Jar, and Shmi sits at its sides. Anakin, in the way of small boys, begins talking about life as a slave, in no way embarrass 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, is making an effort to help their guests appreciate the severity of their situation.
"All slaves have transmitters placed inside their bodies," Shmi is explaining.
"I've been working on a scanner to try to locate them, but so far no luck," Anakin explains solemnly.
Shmi smiles. "Any attempt at escape..."
"...and they blow you up!" the boy finishes. "Poof!"
Jar Jar is slurping contentedly at his soup, listening with half an ear as he devours the very tasty broth. He overdid it on hearing this, however, making such a loud noise that he stopped conversation altogether. All eyes turn on him momentarily. He lower his head in embarrassment and pretends not to see.
Padmé looks back at Shmi, shock and somewhat anger to see Vader is correct. Hopefully, this innocent child and his mother don't suffer the same fate as their mysterious ally. "I can't believe slavery is still permitted in the galaxy. The Republic's anti-slavery laws should-"
"The Republic doesn't exist out here," Shmi interrupts quickly, her voice hard. "We must survive on our own."
There is an awkward silence as Padmé looks away, like on the ship, not knowing what else to say.
"Have you ever seen a Podrace?" Anakin asks, trying to ease her discomfort.
Padmé shakes her head no. She glances at Shmi, noting the sudden concern on the woman's lined face. Jar Jar launches 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 silences him.
"They have Podracing on Malastare," the Jedi Master observes. "Very fast, very dangerous."
Anakin grins. "I'm the only human who can do it!" A sharp glance from his mother wipes 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 studies him carefully. "You must have Jedi reflexes if you race Pods."
Anakin smiles broadly at the compliment. Jar Jar's tongue snakes toward the serving bowl in an effort to snare another morsel, but this time Qui-Gon's waiting hand moves swiftly, and in a heartbeat, he secures the Gungan's tongue between his thumb and forefinger. Jar Jar freeze, his mouth open, his tongue hold fast, his eyes wide.
"Don't do that again," Qui-Gon advises, an edge to his soft voice.
Jar Jar tries to say something, but it comes out as an unintelligible mumble. Qui-Gon releases the Gungan's tongue, and it snaps back into place. Jar Jar massages his billed mouth ruefully.
Anakin's young face lifts to the older man's, and his voice is hesitant. "I... I was wondering something."
Qui-Gon nods for him to continue.
The boy clears his throat, screwing up his courage. "You two are Jedi Knights, aren't you?"
There is a long moment of silence as the older man and the boy stares at each other.
"What makes you think that?" Qui-Gon asks finally.
Anakin swallows. "I saw your lightsaber. Only Jedi Knights carry that kind of weapon."
Obi-Wan continues to stare at him, noting the slight nod from Qui-Gon, then leaned back slowly in his chair and smiles. "Perhaps we killed a Jedi and stole it from him."
Anakin shakes his head quickly. "I don't think so. No one can kill a Jedi."
Qui-Gon's smile fades and there is a hint of sadness in his dark eyes as he remembers her. "I wish that were so..."
"I had a dream I was a Jedi," the boy says quickly, anxious to talk about it now. "I came back here and freed all the slaves. I dreamed it just the other night when I was out in the desert." He pauses, his young face expectant. "Have you come to free us?"
Qui-Gon Jinn shakes his head. "No, I'm afraid not..." He trails off, hesitating.
"I think you have," the boy insists, defiance in his eyes. "Why else would you be here?"
Shmi is 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."
Obi-Wan stares at his Master in shock. This mission is meant to be secretive and his Master is telling a mere boy!
Anakin's eyes widen. "Coruscant? Wow! How did you end up out here in the Outer Rim?"
"Our ship was damaged," Obi-Wan answers him. "We're stranded here until we can repair it."
"I can help!" the boy announces quickly, anxious to be of service to them. "I can fix anything!"
Qui-Gon smiles at his enthusiasm. "I believe you can, but our first task, as you know from our visit to Watto's shop, is to acquire the parts we need."
"Wit nutten ta trade," Jar Jar points out sourly.
Padmé is looking at Qui-Gon speculatively. "These junk dealers must have a weakness of some kind."
"Gambling," Shmi says at the Jedi. She rises and begins clearing the table of dishes. "Everything in Mos Espa revolves around betting on those awful Podraces."
Qui-Gon rise, walk to the window, and stares out through the thick, diffuse glass at the clouds of windblown sand. "Podracing," he muses. "Greed can be a powerful ally if it's used properly."
Anakin leaps to his feet. "I've built a racer!" he declares 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 scolds sharply, cutting him short. Her eyes are bright with concern. "Watto won't let you race!"
"Watto doesn't have to know the racer is mine!" the boy replies quickly, his mind working through the problem. He turns 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 catches the look in Shmi's eyes. He meets her gaze, silently acknowledges her consternation, and wait patiently for her response.
"I don't want you to race, Annie," his mother says quietly. She shakes her head to emphasize her words, weariness, and concern reflect in her eyes. "It's awful. I die every time Watto makes you do it. Every time."
Anakin bites his lip. "But, Mom, I love it!" He gestures 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 nods in support. "We in kinda bad goo."
Qui-Gon walks over to Anakin and looked down at him. "Your mother is right. Let's drop the matter." He holds 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 stands silent and unmoving as she thought the matter through. She shakes her head no.
"We have to help them, Mom," Anakin insists, knowing he is right about this, that he is 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."
Shmi sighs. "Anakin, don't-"
"But you said it, Mom." The boy refuses to back down, his eyes locked on hers. Shmi Skywalker makes no response this time, her brow furrowed, her body still.
"I'm sure Qui-Gon doesn't want to put your son in danger," Padmé interjects suddenly, uncomfortable with the confrontation they had brought about between mother and son, trying to ease the tension.
"We will find another way..." Shmi looks over at the girl and shake her head slowly. "No, Annie's right. There is no other way. I may not like it, but he can help you." She pauses. "Maybe he was meant to help you." She says it as if coming to a conclusion that had eludes her until now as if discovering a truth that, while painful, is obvious.
Anakin's face lit up. "Is that a yes?" He claps his hands in glee. "That is a yes!"
Qui-Gon didn't miss the smirk sent Anakin's way by his student. Well, well, well, it appears Obi-Wan is growing fond of their young friend.
Night blanket the vast cityscape of Coruscant, cloaking the endless horizon of gleaming spires in deep velvet layers. Lights blazes 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 consume the planet with its bulk, and now there wlis only the city, the center of the galaxy, the heartbeat of the Republic's rule.
A rule that some are intending to end once and for all. A rule that some despises.
Darth Sidious stands high on a balcony overlooking Coruscant, his concealing black robes making him appear as if he is a creature produce by the night. He stands facing the city, his eyes direct at its lights, at the faint movement of its air traffic, disinterest in his apprentice, Darth Maul, who wait to one side.
His thoughts were of the Sith and of the history of their order.
The Sith had come into being almost over twenty thousands years ago. They were a cult given over to the dark side of the Force, embracing fully the concept that power denied was power wasted. A rogue Jedi Knight founded the Sith, a singular dissident in an order of harmonious followers, a rebel who understood from the beginning that the real power of the Force lay not in the light, but in the dark. Failing to gain approval for his beliefs from the Council, he broken from the order, departing with his knowledge and his skills, swearing in secret that he could bring down those who dismissed him.
He was alone at first, but others from the Jedi Order who believed as he did and who followed him in his study of the dark side soon came over. Others were recruited, and soon the ranks of the Sith swelled to than fifty in number. Disdaining the concepts of cooperation and consensus, relying on the belief that acquisition of power in any form lends strength and yields control, the Sith began to build their cult in opposition to the Jedi. Theirs was not an order created to serve; theirs was an order created to dominate.
Their war with the Jedi was vengeful and furious and ultimately doomed. The rogue Jedi who 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 shifts impatiently. The younger Sith not yet learn his Master's patience; that would come with time and training. It is patience that saved the Sith Order in the end. It is patience that would give them their victory now over the Jedi.
The Sith who survived when all of his fellows had died understood that. He adopted patience as a virtue when the others had forsaken it. He adopted cunning, stealth, and subterfuge as the foundation of his way-old Jedi virtues the others had disdained. He stood aside while the Sith tore at each other like kriks and were destroyed. When the carnage was complete, he went into hiding, biding his time, waiting for his chance.
When it was believed all of the Sith were destroyed, he emerged from his concealment. At first, he worked alone, but he was growing old and he was the last of his kind. Eventually, he went out in search of an apprentice. Finding one, he trained him to be a Master in his turn, then to find his own apprentice, and so to carry on their work. But there would only be two at anyone time. There would be no repetition of the mistakes of the old order, no struggle between Siths warring for power within the cult. Their common enemy was the Jedi, not each other. It was for their war with the Jedi they must save themselves. The Sith who reinvented the order called himself Darth Bane. A thousand years had passed since the Sith were believed destroyed, and the time they had waited for had come at last.
"Tatooine is sparsely populated." His student's rough voice breaks into his thoughts, and Darth Sidious lifts his eyes to the hologram. "The Hutts rule. The Republic has no presence. If the trace was correct, Master, I will find them quickly and without hindrance." The golden eyes glimmer with excitement and anticipation in the strange mosaic of Darth Maul's face as he waits impatiently for a response.
Darth Sidious is pleased.
"Move against the Jedi first," he advises softly. "You will then have no difficulty taking the Queen back to Naboo, where she will sign the treaty. Do not concern yourself with this mysterious enemy."
Darth Maul exhales sharply. Satisfaction permeate 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 soothes. "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 follows, the Sith Lord can feel a dark heat rise inside his and consume him with a furious pleasure.
In the home of Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn stands silently at the doorway of the boy's bedroom and watches him sleep. His apprentice sleeps on the sofa. His mother and the handmaiden occupy the other bedroom, and Jar Jar Binks is curl up on the kitchen floor in a fetal position, snoring loudly. But Qui-Gon can not sleep. It is this boy - this boy! There is something about him.
The Jedi Master watches the soft rise and fall of his chest as he lay locked in slumber, unaware of Qui-Gon's presence. The boy is special, he told Shmi Skywalker, and she agreed. She knows it, too.
She senses it as he did.
Anakin Skywalker is different.
Qui-Gon lifts his gaze to a darkened window. The storm subsides, the wind abate. It is quiet without, the night soft and welcoming in its peace. The Jedi Master thought for a moment on his own life. He knows what they said about him. He is willful, even reckless in his choices. He is strong, but he dissipates his strength on causes that do not merit his attention. But rules are not created solely to govern behavior. Rules are created to provide a road map to understanding the Force.
Is it so wrong for him to bend those rules when his conscience whisper to him that he must? The Jedi folds his arms over his broad chest. The Force is a complex and difficult concept. The Force is rooted in the balance of all things, and every movement within its flow risks 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 exists on more than one plane, and achieving mastery of its multiple passages was a lifetime's work. Or more.
He knows his own weakness. He is too close to the life Force when he should be more attentive to the unifying Force. He finds himself reaching out to the creatures of the present, to those living in the here and now. He have less regard for the past or the future, to the creatures that had or would occupy those times and spaces. It is the life force that bound him, that gave him heart and mind and spirit. So it is he empathize with Anakin Skywalker in ways that other Jedi would discourage, finding in this boy a promise he can not ignore. Obi-Wan probably sees the boy and Jar Jar in the same light - useless burdens, pointless projects, unnecessary distractions. Obi-Wan is grounded in the need to focus on the larger picture, on the unifying Force. He lacks Qui-Gon's intuitive nature. He lacks his teacher's compassion for and interest in all living things. He does not see the same things Qui-Gon saw.
Qui-Gon sighs. This is not a criticism, only an observation. Who is to say that either of them was the better for how they interpret the demands of the Force? But it place them at odds sometimes, and more often than not it is Obi-Wan's position the Council supports, not Qui-Gon's. It will be that way again, he knows. Many times. But this will not deter him from doing what he believes 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 is stretched out on the floor, asleep.
Vader drives the speeder, cautiously staring back at Eirtaé and Rabé to ensure that his rival and the one who had killed his-his father in another time doesn't just magically appear from the desert and claim the life of the handmaidens.
Finally, they come across a village. Vader raises his hand, sensing dangerous presences from within, and calling off the power of the Force. He has learned to tamed beasts from within his time as Darth Vader.
Expectedly, the Tuskens Raiders emerges, and although they didn't hesitate to pull out their blasters; in a similar thing to what he has to Boba Fett after he was about to terminate the Wookie on Cloud City, Vader places his hands on their shoulders, breaking his concentration for a moment.
That is all that was needed, that singular moment of concentration being broken.
"Blast!" Vader snarls in annoyance, drawing and activating his crimson lightsaber as the Tusken Raiders dashes forward. He releases his holds and they begin to open fire, alerting the other Tuskens from within and causing them to lunge forward to assist their comrades.
Vader's saber runs right through the first rounds of Tuskens. He knows in matters of speaking that he, Eirtaé, and Rabé are the interlopers and that this is partly their fault, but he cares little.
And why does this blasted moment partnership with Rabé and Eirtaé reminds him so much of Vendaxa, just with different handmaidens?
The former Dark Lord approaches the Tusken Camp with Eirtaé and Rabé, and they aim their guns at the females who begin to lift up the blasters of their fallen mates and fire, but are swiftly purged by Vader's lightsaber and the handmaidens' blaster fire.
He would never forgive the Tuskens for what they have done. These animals tore up families; they must all die, and although Vader don't relish in butchering children, they would only grow up to become cold warriors who care for the deaths of thousands on this planet. The Tuskens are evil; they all must die for the safety of many others.
Guards are standing poise, but Darth Vader simply moves his hand grasping his lightsaber and cut off the head of the Guard on the right, and the other Guard is about to attack but he already have been seized with the Force. Vader crushes his windpipe without hesitation.
Much to their horror, Rabé and Eirtaé spot prisoners and begin cutting their chains. They were not only children among them but adults; bruised, battered, and undoubtedly tortured.
Suddenly, a Tusken in dark undergarments approaches, staff raise in challenge.
Vader nods slightly, accepting the unspoken challenge as the Tusken dashes forward, the staff slamming into him but it is easily blocked.
When her blaster is knocked out of her hand by a Tusken, Rabé kicks his knees out, her slamming the Tusken before grabbing her blaster and firing a straight hole into his head.
Vader parries each of the blows by the Chieftain before impaling his lightsaber through the Tusken's abdomen and he raises the Tusken above him. He freezes as Vader pulls his blade up, eviscerating the Tusken who's bloody body collapses on the ground.
Vader deactivates his lightsaber and clips it on his belt, not making any animadversion nor lamenting his actions at all. These Tuskens have been lacerating people for thousands of years; so many people were dismantled from their families, tortured, and unlike him, presumably never been able to see their parents, siblings, or children ever again, not even in their irrevocable days. They tore up families and ruin lives.
Granted, he too did those things, but he has long ago accepted he is a beast.
Without a word to the natives, Vader walks out, leaving the handmaidens to free them from their chains with their handmaiden training. Although they had thought they had known already so much about the galaxy, is it true the Republic doesn't care for all these innocent beings who are suffering? Both feel like barfing at the scars and wounds across the many innocent men, women, and children.
Rabé kneels down and notices a child who could be little more than five staring down. She grabs her cheek and saw the lifeless eyes of the innocent child, but by the way, she blinks, it is clear she's still alive, just extremely weak and her eyes are beyond damaged.
They free the rest of them from their chains or helps them up and allows them off into the nights, them undoubtedly frighten beyond belief since they just want to return to their homes, hoping their families haven't abandoned them.
The former Sith Lord didn't protest nor spoken an offer of any type despite the handmaidens trying to convince the natives otherwise and even going so far as to offer to help them back to town, him scowling at that admission. His younger self would have been like the handnaidens, have been insistent to save everyone or at least as many as he can, but Vader has long since stripped his mentality of that quixotic attitude. Throughout his life, he has lost many good people to attempt to save one or two people. If he learnt anything during his time as the Dark Lord, he had learned that saving one life or making one good decision does not always lead to a great outcome. He has lost too many people to count to care what happens to them because of their foolish decisions. Saving one person does not account for the loss of lives of many others.
To be blunt, he cares little about these people. If Eirtaé and Rabé attempt to lead them back, he would employ a mini dark side ability mind probe where they would be placed into a deep sleep until the morning. He won't allow them to walk into their suicide to save these people. Yes, he feels compassion for these people, but compare to the handmaidens who were like bigger sisters to him, they are invaluable.
And even with many of the people who were in the camp gone, Eirtaé and Rabé cannot believe one cannot acknowledge another for so long, not even as he forms a campfire and sat down on the log. They did occasionally gave each other looks.
Otherwise, the three had refused to engage in conversation.
At least...
Until now.
"So we would like to know about you in a personal manner," Rabé chooses to speak. "Why are you working with us for the risk of losing thousands of credits from the Trade Federation?"
The two teenagers can swear there is a little more than a sigh from the masked man's throat, eyes now fixated on them. "I have already inform you of this. Nute Gunray and the entire Trade Federation is pathetic. They are fundamentally children who didn't receive their favorite piece of candy and is now throwing a tantrum."
Eirtaé scowls. "And what are your motives then? In the library, according to Padmé and Sabé, in the little information there is, the Sith were described as evil and emotionless beasts."
"Those are half-truths. There have been Sith who lean to the light side and Jedi who lean to the dark in ancient history. In the Gravid's Purge and Cold Wars, this was especially big as there were different associations among the Jedi Order and Sith Empire. Jedi can be dark as much as Sith can be light, and of course, there are those such as I who walk the middle ground. Don't allow the Jedi to manipulate you as they had committed immoral atrocities in the past." Vader retorts, narrowing his eyes.
"According to them, they were limitations in the lessons about the Sith," Rabé admits, shrugging her shoulders. "I never was interested in the library that much. However, Sabé did tell me about their past and their actions." She gives him a dark look. "Naboo was said to be purged by the Sith multiple times. It is said that they are no redeeming qualities about the Sith."
"Undoubtedly due to the Jedi. They claimed everything Sith-related to either destroy it or to entrap in a Vault. The Jedi, while good intention are hardly even worthy of being called wise peacekeepers because all they do is force their naive points down children. Their ill knowledge of the Force shall eventually be their downfall." Vader declares bluntly, eyes flashing angrily. Despite him regretting his actions, the Jedi are at blame for major things in the war and their arrogance; not to mention, undoubtedly, they are plotting to destroy him or tame him.
He would only defend himself if the Jedi do choose to clash with him. He resents possibly having to claim a few of their lives, but he would do what he must. He rarely has time for the Jedi's games this time. The Force is supporting him as a vessel, not the Jedi. They have already failed this galaxy once. Their condescension would only cause a repeat of history if Vader does not take this carefully.
"What will they do to you?" Rabé asks.
"No doubt attempt to maim me. The Jedi has lost their way from their original goal for over many decades. They only seek to fulfill their own ambitions." Vader replies, frowning in deep disappointment. Even after everything they have done to him like not allowing him to save his mother and abandoning Ahsoka, he doesn't want their Order to collapse; just destroyed and reborn with the students being free to embrace their attachments instead of being emotionless beasts.
"What would you do should they attack you as you claim?" Eirtaé inquires, intrigue.
"I would self defend myself. The Jedi are not absolute, and due to their belief in destroying the dark side, they are destined to collapse." Vader informs her. "I am not above killing their members."
For a few seconds, only the campfire was the sound heard.
"Were you a Jedi?"
It was seemingly an innocent question yet a question not expected and it startled him. Vader didn't know why but he doesn't wish to deceive her. Perhaps because she is one who is comparable to Padmé's compassion.
Eirtaé... she is compassionate and she was the friend of Anakin Skywalker in the former timeline, and she had also known of his and Padmé's relationship. During his time on Naboo off the war, Eirtaé tried to play games with him to take his thoughts off the war, going as far to prank Padmé and her fellow handmaidens with him. In spite of this, he didn't want to form a friendship with the handmaiden. Similarly, Vader couldn't find himself retorting with a rude remark. She is just asking a simple question and hasn't done anything to offend him. While Vader trusts Sabé more out of all the handmaidens, Eirtaé and Rabé are still genuinely good people.
"Yes."
"If so, then how could you have married a wife?" Rabé queries, eyes staring at the back of his hooded head suspiciously. "Isn't embracing attachments against their codes or whatnot?"
"Precisely, which is why I had left the Jedi Order in an unconventional manner," Vader confirms. Well, not exactly left the Jedi Order but it is a half-truth that hits closer to home. "They considered me as one of the greatest duelists in the Order and labeled my Force Abilities as impressive as the Jedi from ancient history. After some time, I couldn't endure their enigmatic ways no longer so I left this galaxy and preserve my life in an unknown galaxy until recently."
"So I guess our Queen's suspicions should be designated mistaken, given you haven't killed us nor appear intrigued in granting our deaths," Eirtaé admits.
"I don't kill people unless they attack me." 'Not anymore.' "Padmé nor none of your fellows deserve death in my books as I sense you are all genuinely good people so you live. Self-defense is also a constituent as I am certain you know, comprising as the Queen's handmaidens and plausibly annihilating people before."
Both decides not to press the matter as the wind washes over them. It is not like they are going to get any more information anyway and they are exhausted due to the day's travel, not to mention dehydrated. Their lips becoming dry or crusty is clear issues that needs to be resolved.
"There are drinks in the camp," Vader informs, sensing their complications through the Force.
Both nod and head to the back to try the water moisture. Both gags and grimaces but forces themselves to finish their drinking of the salty water.
Once they'd returned, both handmaidens were already playing a mini-game of some sort: saying something about Sabé cheating in their last game, growing tired and falling asleep.
The former Sith sighs before hoisting up the blonde handmaiden, walking into the camp, and places it her on what totally shouldn't be call a cot before doing the same to the other, realizing how uncomfortable it must be for them to lay on. For a moment, he thinks about little Leia... him staring at her teenager form in such a peaceful slumber... and even as a child... him comforting her... soothing her if she had a bad dream... if only he didn't turn to that man...
Blast their resemblances to Padmé and Leia!
Why in faith do the Force have to remind him of Leia? Is it punishment for allowing her homeworld to be destroyed by Tarkin?
He stares down at the sleeping two teenagers for a while - or at least it feels that way for him - who soon begin shivering and he can't resist the urge to plant his cape on their forms and push the strand of hair away from the sleeping Eirtaé's right brow and pulling up his cape on Rabé's side to assure she is also comfortable.
'I wish I had this chance with Luke and Leia,' Vader thinks solemnly, but it brings him little pleasure to have a moment to be a father, despite them not being his daughters.
With a final stare to the peacefully sleeping teenagers, Vader walks out of the camp, falls on his knees, and begins to delve deep into meditation.
The new day dawns bright and clar, Tatooine's twin suns blazing down out of a clear blue sky. The sandstorm has 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 is up and dress before his guests stirred awake, eager to get to the shop and advise Watto of his plan for the upcoming Podrace. Qui-Gon warn 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 is so excited he could have barely heard what the other was saying.
The Jedi Master knows it will be up to him to employ whatever mix of cunning and diplomacy is require to achieve their ends. Greed is the operative word in dealing with Watto, of course, the key that will open any door the Toydarian kept locked. They walk from the slave quarters through the city to Watto's shop, Anakin leading the way, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Padmé close at his heels, Jar Jar and R2-D2 bringing up the rear. The city is awake and bustling early, the shopkeepers and merchants shoveling and sweeping away drifts of sand, reassembling stalls and awnings, and righting carts and damaged fences. Eopies and rontos perform the heavy labor where sleds and droids lack sufficient muscle. Wagons are already hauling fresh supplies and merchandise from warehouses and storage bins, and the receiving bays of the spaceport are back to welcoming ships from off-planet.
Qui-Gon let Anakin go on ahead to the shop as they draw 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 moves 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 are consume, he moves his group across the plaza to the front of Watto's shop. Jar Jar, already unsettle 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 moves over beside him, beeping softly, trying to reassure him that everything was okay.
Qui-Gon tells Padmé to keep a wary eye on the Gungan. He doesn't want Jar Jar getting into any more trouble. He is starting into the shop when the girl puts a hand on his arm.
"Are you sure about this?" she asks, doubt mirrored clearly in her brown eyes. "Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know?" She wrinkles her smooth brow. "The Queen would not approve."
Qui-Gon meets her gaze squarely. "The Queen does not need to know."
Her eyes blaze defiantly. "Well, I don't approve."
He gives her a questioning look, then turns away wordlessly.
Inside the salvage shop, he finds Watto and Anakin engage in a heated discussion, the Toydarian hovering centimeters from the boy's face, blue wings a blur of motion, snout curl inward as he gestures sharply and purposely with both hands.
"Patta go bolla!" he shouts in Huttese, chubby body jerking with the force of his words.
The boy blinks but holds his ground. "No batta!"
"Peedunkel!" Watto flits backward and forward, up and down, everything moving at once.
"Banyo, banyo!" Anakin shouts.
Qui-Gon moves out of the shadowed entry and into the light where they can see him clearly. Watto turns away from Anakin at once, toothy mouth working, and flies into Qui-Gon's face in a frenzy of ill-conceal excitement.
"The boy tells me you want to sponsor him in the race tomorrow!" The words explode out of him. "You can't afford parts! How can you afford to enter him in the race? Not on Republic credits, I think!"
He breaks into raucous laughter, but Qui-Gon do not miss the hint of curiosity that gleams in his slit eyes.
"My ship will be the entry fee," the Jedi advises bluntly.
He reaches beneath his poncho and bring out a tiny holoprojector. Clicking on the power source, he projects a hologram of the Queen's transport into the air in front of Watto. The Toydarian flits closer, studying the projection carefully.
"Not bad. Not bad." The wrinkle blue proboscis bobs. "A Nubian."
"It's in good order, except for the parts we need." Qui-Gon gives him another moment, then flick off the holoprojector and tucks it back beneath his poncho.
"But what would the boy ride?" Watto demands irritably. "He smashed up my Pod in the last race. It will take too long to fix it for the Boonta."
Qui-Gon glances at Anakin, who is clearly embarrass. "Aw, it wasn't my fault, really. Sebulba flashed me with his port vents. I actually saved the Podracer... mostly."
Watto laughs harshly. "That he did! The boy is good, no doubts there!" He shakes his head. "But still..."
"I have acquired a Pod in a game of chance," Qui-Gon interrupts smoothly, drawing the other's attention back to him. "The fastest ever built."
He did not look at Anakin, but he imagines the expression on the boy's face.
"I hope you didn't kill anyone I know for it!" Watto snaps. 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!" Obi-Wan exclaims, eyes going wide but was calmed when Qui-Gon places his hand on his shoulder.
"Fifty-fifty?" Qui-Gon brushes the suggestion aside. "If it's going to be fifty-fifty, I suggest you front the cost of the entry. If we win, you keep all the winnings, minus the cost of the parts I need. If we lose, you keep my ship."
Watto is clearly caught by surprise. He thinks the matter through, hand rubbing at his snout, wings beating the air with a buzzing sound. The offer is too good, and he was suspicious. Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon sees Anakin glance over at him nervously.
"Either way, you win," Qui-Gon points out softly.
Watto pounds his fist into his open palm. "Deal!" He turns to the boy, chuckling. "Your friend makes a foolish bargain, boy! Better teach him what you know about how to deal for goods!"
He is still laughing as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan left the shop.
The Jedi Master and Padawan collect Padmé, Jar Jar, and R2-D2, and left word for Anakin to join them as soon as Watto will free him up to work on the Podracer. Since Watto is more interested in the upcoming race than in managing the shop, he dismiss the boy at once with instructions to make certain the racer he will be driving is a worthy contender and not some piece of space junk that will cause everyone to laugh at the Toydarian for his foolish decision to enter it in the first place.
As a result, Anakin is home almost before Qui-Gon and the others, eagerly leading them to where his project is concealed in the slave quarter boneyards. The Podracer is shape like a narrow half-cylinder with a rudder-skid attach to its flat bottom, a cockpit carve into its curved-top, and steering arms attached at its sides. Sleek Radon - Ulzer fighter engines with scoop-air stabilizers tow the Pod at the end of Steel ton cables. The effect is something like seeing a doop bug attached to a pair of banthas.
Working together, the company activates the antigrav lifts and guided the Pod and its enormous engines into the courtyard in the back of Anakin's home. With Padmé, Jar Jar, and R2-D2 lending assistance and encouragement, the boy immediately went to work prepping the Pod for the upcoming race.
While Anakin and his helpers are thus engage, Qui-Gon mounts the back porch of the Skywalker home, glances around to make certain he is alone with Obi-Wan.
"If all goes well, we will have our hyperdrive generator by tomorrow afternoon and be on our way," he concludes.
Obi-Wan's silence is telling. "What if this plan fails, Master? We could be stuck here for a long time."
Qui-Gon Jinn looks 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."
Obi-Wan nods grimly and walks out.
"And there is something about this boy," he whispers to himself, leaving the thought unfinished.
Shmi Skywalker appears through the back door and moved over to join him. Together they stand watching the activity in the courtyard below.
"You should be proud of your son," Qui-Gon says after a moment. "He gives without any thought of reward."
Shmi nods, a smile flitting over her worn face. "He knows nothing of greed. Only of dreams. He has..."
"Special powers."
The woman glances at him warily. "Yes."
"He can see things before they happen," the Jedi Master continues. "That's why he appears to have such quick reflexes. It is a Jedi trait."
Her eyes are 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.
Obi-Wan can hardly believe he feels horribly for the woman and her son. For perhaps the first time in... well ever, Obi-Wan wonders: How many people across the galaxy are suffering, wishing that they can grant a better life for their kins?
Qui-Gon keeps his gaze direct out at the courtyard. "The Force is unusually strong with him, that much is clear. Who was his father?"
There is a long pause, long enough for the Jedi Master to realize he asked a question she is not prepared to answer. He gives 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 says finally. She shakes her head slowly. "I carried him, I gave birth to him. I raised him. I can't tell you any more than that."
Obi-Wan, like all of his fellow Jedi, did have a father. But to avoid the complications with attachments, the Jedi Council strides to acquire infants. Still, there are times when Obi-Wan secretly wishes to meet his parents or whatever siblings he may have, but that was when he was younger.
She touches his arm, drawing his eyes to meet hers. "Can you help him?"
Qui-Gon is silent for a long time, thinking. He feels an attachment to Anakin Skywalker he can not explain. In the back of his mind, he senses he is meant to do something for this boy, that it was necessary he tries. But all Jedi are identified within the first six months of birth and given over to their training. It is true for him, for Obi-Wan, for everyone he knew or had heard about. There are no exceptions.
Can you help him? He did not know how that was possible.
"I don't know," he tells 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 nods in resignation, but her face reveal, beneath the mask of her acceptance, a glimmer of hope.
As Anakin tightens the wiring on the thruster relays to the left engine, a group of his friends appears. The older boys are Kitster and Seek, the older girl is Amee, the younger girl was Melee, and the Rodian is Waldo. Anakin breaks off his efforts to complete the wiring long enough to introduce them to Padmé, Jar Jar, and R2-D2.
"Wow, a real astromech droid!" Kitster exclaims, whistling softly. "How'd you get so lucky?"
Anakin shrugs. "That isn't the half of it," he declared, puffing up a bit. "I'm entered in the Boonta tomorrow."
Kitster makes a face and pushes back his mop of dark hair. "What? With this?"
"That piece of junk has never even been off the ground," Wald says, nudging Amee. "This is such a joke, Annie."
"You've been working on that thing for years," Amee observes, her small, delicate features twisting in disapproval. She shook her blond head.
"It's never going to run." Melee adds.
Obi-Wan can't believe he feels remorse for the boy and approaches as Anakin starts to say something in defense of himself, then decided against it. Better to let them think whatever they want for now. He will show them.
"Hey," Obi-Wan reprimands them before they could taunt Anakin further. "Unless you are all here to help Anakin, leave him be."
"Come on, let's go play ball," Seek suggests, already turning away, a hint of boredom in his voice as he glares up at the Jedi. "Keep it up, Annie, and you're gonna be bug squash."
Obi-Wan scowls slightly. "At least he is entering the race. Not seeing any of you willing to try."
Seek, Wald, Melee, and Amee hurries off, laughing back at him, though there is hint of fear in their tone after what the Jedi just said. But Kitster is his best friend and knows better than to doubt Anakin when he said he was going to do something. So Kitster stays behind, ignoring the others. "What do they know?" he asks quietly.
Anakin gives him a grin of appreciation. Then he notices Jar Jar fiddling with the left engine's energy binder plate, the power source that lock the engines together and kept them in sync, and the grin disappears.
"Hey! Jar Jar!" he shouts in warning. "Stay away from those energy binders!"
The Gungan, bend close to the protruding plate, looked up guiltily. "Who, me?"
Anakin puts his hands on his hips. "If your hand gets caught in the beam, it will go numb for hours."
Jar Jar screws up his face, then put his hands behind his back and stuck his bill 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 clamp over his mouth as he stood staring at the boy in disbelief.
"Ist numm! Ist numm!" Jar Jar mumbles, 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 moves close to him, watching silently, his dark face intense. "You don't even know if this thing will run, Annie," he observes with a frown, though there is a notable concern in his voice.
Anakin didn't look up. "It will."
Qui-Gon Jinn appears 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 twitches in a mix of embarrassment and amusement.
Anakin knows the value of a power pack. How the Jedi manages to secure one from under Watto's nose, he has no idea and no interest in finding out. "Yes, sir!" he beams.
He jumps into the cockpit, fits the power pack into its sleeve in the control panel, and sets the activator to the ON position. Then he pulls on his old, dented racing helmet and gloves. As he did so, Jar Jar, who is fiddling around at the back of one of the engines, manages to get his hand caught in the afterburner. The Gungan begin leaping up and down in terror, his mouth still numb from the shock he received from the energy binders, his bill flapping to no discernible purpose. Padmé catch sight of him at the last minute-his arms windmilling frantically-and yank him free an instant before the engines ignites.
Flame explodes from the afterburners, and a huge roar rose from the Radon - Ulzers, building steadily in pitch until Anakin eases off on the thrusters, then settling back into a throaty rumble. Cheers rises from the spectators, and Anakin waves his hand in response.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon probes. "Return to the ship. There is something about that boy that I need to check. Also, we need to ensure the Queen doesn't do anything reckless.''
He nods. "Yes, Master."
On the porch of their home, Shmi Skywalker watches wordlessly, her eyes distant and sad.