It was somewhat unclear to what extent I was Obi-Wan, and to what extent I was me.

I can remember Kenobi having at least some athleticism in the prequel films - jumps and backflips - and despite having his raw strength and physique, I was no closer to pulling off such feats than I had been back on Earth. On the other hand, I had naturally found myself performing certain difficult Force techniques, many of them relating to sense perception, that were unusual for a Padawan of Ben's level. It made me wonder to what extent the direction of one's Force abilities were based on one's intention and training, rather than some function of one's genetics.

The long and short of it was that while I had a lightsaber, I certainly wasn't aerial summersulting down the corridor with it. Instead, I held a blaster in my other hand, and alternated between bouncing our assailants' shots back at them and adding to the crossfire with my own unerring projectiles. Constantly seeing moments into the future made it very hard to miss.

When a lull in the fighting happened, I did take a moment to wonder if my change in priorities might prove a liability later, when Master Jinn and I faced off... against... whomever. Against...

I barely suppressed snarling out loud. No matter how many times I tried to bring up any details of the movies related to the Sith, I could never solidify them in my head. If anything, each attempt seemed to make things worse.

It wasn't a mystery to me as to what was happening; we were all taught that the Sith conceal themselves by clouding the minds of others. The effect was stronger on Force-sensitives than regular people, because our enhanced perception was based on being open to guidance by the Force, and it was that same guidance that the Sith twisted into a push, drawing us away from seeing their true nature.

When I had first awoken at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, I had remembered all of it. My early planning involved finding the simplest and easiest ways to fully unmask the Sith Lord plotting to take over the galaxy, or just destroy him. But as time went on, and my Force training progressed, those details became less and less easy to recall. Before I realized what was happening, it was too late to even try to write anything down - a mistake I have not repeated, making both written and holorecord copies of every major clue I have come across since then, and reviewing them frequently looking for gaps in my knowledge.

But while things touching directly on the Sith have faded from my recollection, the rest of my Star Wars knowledge has not. In fact, Jedi meditation and mindfulness techniques have greatly enhanced my recall; I have often been able to recall factoids that I'm certain I had only read in passing in my previous life. While it made my preparations for this time no less daunting, it certainly facilitated my accuracy in carrying them out.

I pressed the button on my transponder as we arrived safely at the airlock (yes, the same one I had previously planned to eject Nute Gunray and the other bodies from). The captain had certainly thought my extra precautions were paranoid, but he'd agreed to go along with them, leaving the cargo bay as soon as Qui-Gon and I were clear, and floating unobtrusively nearby until he got the signal to pick us up. He would have returned to the same bay had I contacted him via the ships com system, but he knew the transponder meant "track us to any ship exit point."

The tip of the transponder turned green just as two droidekas rolled around the corner at the other end of the ship's hallway. I wasted no time in blowing the emergency release on the airlock's inner and outer doors as my Master and I each aimed ourselves at the receiving maw of the cruiser's open landing hatch. Zero-G self-propulsion was quite easy for a Jedi with any training, essentially just requiring a Force pull without the usual automatic counterbalancing.

Once we were safely inside, the passenger cabin quickly repressurizing, the coms came on. "Ambassador, the Sa'kaak is demanding we stand down and prepare to be boarded, or else they'll open fire."

Qui-Gon quipped, "Ask them how long the Trade Federation will keep their license if they are known to have attacked a Diplomatic Vessel."

We had our answer shortly, as the cruiser banked sharply to avoid incoming anti-ship blaster fire.

"Sir," the captain said over the coms as the ship continued to loop and turn, "the ships have positioned themselves to block us from leaving. Our only option appears to be landing on the planet."

I leaned over to speak into the com. "Captain, Naboo's Palace should be in your navigational systems. Land there if you can."

"Roger. Out."

From the displays available to us in the passenger compartment, I could see we were already exiting the swamp side of the planet and rapidly approaching the palace.

I briefly reviewed my overall plan and preparations, and checked off my first successful change - no swamp-side landing means no Jar Jar Binks. There were about five ways that not having him along could be a disaster in the future, but I also remembered plenty of times that he was the source of a problem rather than its solution. I had no requirement for merchandising or comic relief, and so no reason to bring him along.

But to be honest, the main reason I was happy to exclude Jar Jar was that it provided an answer to a larger important question: was I able to change things? I killed Nute Gunray, sure, but then the droid and gas attack happened the same way. If we arrived at the Palace in advance of the droid army rather than behind them, bypassing the Gungans and improbable planetary physics entirely, I would know that an important story element wasn't written in stone. That even though the Force was pushing us to take certain paths (and I was certain it was), we had flexibility as to the shape and results of those paths. I needed that assurance.

When we safely sat down in the courtyard of the Naboo Palace, I allowed myself a very small smile.