"Is this even possible?" Qui-Gon asked, still clearly uncomfortable with the ramifications. He blinked at Anakin, who had crawled up onto my lap the moment I sat down.

I nodded. "Yes. The nature of it is surprisingly self-sustaining, at least as long as we can maintain the focus on it."

"Through hyperspace?"

"Possibly not, but that's why I'll be meditating the whole time. The voyage can't be full of conversations and planning sessions like it was on the way here."

"I'm just… genuinely surprised he's willing to go along with it, is all," Qui-Gon supplied.

I shrugged. "He understands what's at stake, and I think he was also fascinated by the technique itself. It may have strategic implications, if it works," I supplied.

"No hugs until we get back?" Anakin asked. He didn't seem upset by the prospect; just curious.

"I'm afraid so, buddy," I agreed. "Gotta keep your distance, leave me to myself. That's the only reason I'm telling you - I didn't want you to think anything was wrong."

Qui-Gon nodded. "All right. Padme wants to disembark in three hours; I will inform her, the crew, and R2 about your unusual requirements for the trip."

"Let's get you home, Annie," I said. "We'd never hear the end of it if we didn't see your mom before we headed out."

Three hours later, watching scenes of Jedi history pass me as I rode down to depart the Tranquility Spire, I marveled at the shimmering, multi-hued air around me. It seemed as though gravity itself was pulsing insolently, as though my own weight was more a variable than a constant. A momentary reflection in the lift glass showed my Padawan braid and travel robes, the short-trimmed beard placing some age on my otherwise deceptively young face. It was a decision that the original Obi-wan had not made until a later film, but I had started growing it almost immediately.

I had trouble getting used to my gait, somehow both too direct and too circular to be truly comfortable. But it had become just another part of the journey by the time I stepped into the hangar where the Naboo Royal Cruiser sat, ready to fly.

Qui-Gon was just now briefing the Nabooans on my need for solitude during the trip, and I felt the waves of uneasiness from Padme and Ric as I approached. I gave a nod and a small wave, which Padme returned awkwardly as I climbed into the vessel. I strapped myself into a launch seat and immediately closed my eyes, happy to be off my feet after even such a short time.

"Obi-wan, join us in the pilot cabin, please," came the message over the comm. It had only been a few minutes since I felt our emergence from hyperspace and the impinging presence of Naboo upon my mind. I expected it to feel more distant somehow, but the minds around me were as strong as ever. Instead, it was clarity I lacked, as though I were seeing them close up but through a glass layer that distorted the light.

Walking was easier this time, and I had no trouble finding my way forward. I was immediately beckoned by Ric to join where he and Padme - dressed, unusually, in her queen's finery but without elaborate facepaint - were looking over a sensor display. "Are these the right coordinates?" Ric asked impatiently.

I focused uncertainly on the display, drawing inward to answer his question with difficulty. "Yes," I finally agreed, having to unnaturally squeeze my throat to make my voice sound right. "These are the only Gungan sacred sites large enough to hide their population."

"Our sensors don't show enough large life forms, or enough machinery, to be a Gungan settlement," Ric said.

"It's not a Gungan settlement," I replied. "It's a hideout. Choose any sector, and compare a visual assessment to your sensor readings. I bet the whole area distorts sensors."

As Ric did just that, Padme took hold of my arm - an awkward sensation indeed - and pulled me out into the hallway with her. I could dimly sense her discomfort aimed in my direction. "Can you explain what's going on now that we're here? You're scaring me, Obi-wan. You don't… sound quite right. Did you have to do something to yourself to prepare for the Dark Jedi?"

I could feel the echo of surprise in the queen's mind at how cool my flesh felt as I gently picked her hand up off of my arm. "I can't explain yet, but soon, I promise. Everything will make sense in another day or two."

She looked me over warily. "Annie won't even go near you. I saw him look at you longingly earlier, before turning the other way."

"Annie knows the score. I need you to trust me, Padme." I looked her up and down; her large eyes and earnest face struck me as strange. "Are you carrying?"

The queen scoffed, hands spread over her impractical garb. "When I dress like this, it's hardly practical."

"The A-180 that you trained with is in the hold, with a properly sized back holster. Until matters are settled, you should seriously consider having 'handmaiden Padme' wear it."

"Highness," Ric called before she could respond, and waited for us to rejoin him. He tapped the display where a split-screen showed both visual and sensor readings. "I think we may have a place to put down."

The Gungan was twisted up in the low-slung swamp tree, the nets having bound him into almost a pretzel, but I couldn't mistake the face and coloration. The most comical aspect of the situation was the overkill from our side: a queen, eschewing the safety of her decoys, stood flanked by Jedi and several soldiers.

"Heeeeeeeep! Peeeeeeeeeease!" Came the frantic calls from the local. Followed a moment later by, "Heeeeeeeeeep! Peeeea… oh! Heyo!'

"Heyo!" The queen called from the ground. "Yousa needsa hand?"

"What's she doing," a Nabooan corporal hissed near me. "She sounds like… one of them?" But the man next to him gave him an elbow to the ribs and a nasty look.

Padme had told me earlier how appalled she had been to find out that even members of Theed's aristocracy dedicated to trade and diplomacy, had never bothered to learn the Gungan trade dialect: a language specifically developed by the Gungans to speak with humans, but now commonly used across the whole of Naboo. Nabooan humans considered it "vulgar." She knew bigotry when she saw it.

It was the work of but a few minutes for Padme herself - sternly insisting that she be allowed to attend the matter personally - freed the earnest young man from his self-inflicted confinement. He expressed his gratefulness enthusiastically.

"Mesa Jar Jar Binks! You save mesa life! Mesa your humble servant!"

"Ah-no, issa no life-save, issa nothing. Mesa Queen Amidala! My like hep!" The graceful young woman said with a smile and a small curtsey.

"Ooooh! Hisen bombad queen! Mesa nutten, mesa sorry!" He gave an awkward bow, almost knocking himself over.

Padme shook her head, smiling. "No problem! Mesa hisen queen, yessen. Wesa look for da Gunga, nosa dere. Yousa hep?"

The large Boss Nass glowered at the humans as we approached their sacred site. "Jar Jar, yousa payen dis time. Who's da uss-en others?"

Padme stepped forward immediately. "Mesa Naboo biggen, hisen queen. Wesa need you hep."

The boss's frown deepened as he stepped forward. "Yousa hisen biggen? Yousa bringen da mackineecks. Me tinks issa bombad ting. Wesa hiden here."

"Peeeeease." Padme said, reaching out a hand to take the boss's. "Heeeeeep. Wesa wanna be friends! Wesa be friends?"

Nass looked down in surprise at Padme's hand, and then up at her face, before his frown turned into a smile. "Yousa no tinken yousa greater den da Gungans? Yousa wanna be friends?"

"Yessen!" Padme shook the hand she still held. "Wesa need yousa hep! Wesa wanna be friends!"

The boss rumbled a single word: "Okie."

And the Gungans joined the war.