The Gungan Swamps

"Master!"Obi-Wan called out over the comlink as he fled through the forest. "I'm having a really bad day. I've got these droid things chasing me and…"

"You've fried your lightsabre again, haven't you!" Qui-Gon challenged him, trying desperately to rid himself of the exceedingly tiresome Gungan hanger-on that trailed behind him.

"Er…" Obi-Wan hesitated.

"You have, haven't you?" Qui-Gon repeated.

"Yes, I'm afraid I have. Could you give me some help here, master?"

Qui-Gon sighed. There were occasions when he despaired of that boy. He was twenty-five years old and he still managed to forget simple things like routine sabre maintenance. Sith knew what kind of master he'd eventually make…

"Oh, I suppose so. Hang on a moment." Jinn gritted his teeth as his hand went to the lightsabre by his belt. "Don't do it again!"

"Master, they're…er, getting a lot closer." Obi-Wan persisted.

"Yes, I can see them. Wait a minute and I'll…oh, blast."

"What is it?"

Qui-Gon looked down at his own fried lightsabre and gulped.

"How fast do you think you can run, padawan?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"I suggest it's time you find out…padawan? Hello?"

Jinn snorted with annoyance as his apprentice got blasted into oblivion. That was typical of Obi-Wan. He'd spent twelve years looking after him and he'd repaid him by getting himself splattered all over the swamps of Naboo. Irritably, Qui-Gon slapped his useless lightsabre down by his side.

A green beam of light suddenly flared into life.

"Well, would you look at that," he said in surprise, "It was working all the time. Whoops!"


Mos Espa

Qui-Gon looked listened intently to his padawan as the rich, smooth tones informed him of what he had already known at heart.

They were stuffed.

"So, we've nothing to bargain with?"

"Nope."

"What about the Queen's wardrobe?"

"Captain Panaka says you're taking that over his dead body." Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled. "He really likes the black, feathery number. Infact he's been wearing it ever since you left."

"Ah…the heat does funny things to people, padawan."

"If you say so, master. But there's nothing like the amount onboard the ship that we need. Nothing for you to barter with."

"An idea will present itself, never fear…"

Qui-Gon pursed his lips.

"Master? Are you still there?"

"What? Oh, yes…I've had an idea. Do you think you could make it into Mos Espa?"

"Why?" Obi-Wan became a little suspicious.

"Well, I thought that maybe we could solve our little financial difficulties by selling you into slavery. What do you think?"

"M-m-master?" Kenobi stammered.

"Don't worry about it. I'd make sure you got a good owner. Someone who'd only beat and kick you a few times a day, nothing drastic."

"Master, I'm supposed to take my trials in a few years." Kenobi gulped. "I have an unofficial girlfriend of sorts! What's she going to say about this?"

"Oh, she can find somebody else. If she hasn't already." Qui-Gon smirked.

"But I'm your padawan!"

"Ah…I've been meaning to speak to you about that." Qui-Gon laughed nervously. "You see, I've met this boy. I have a hunch that he might well be the chosen one and so I thought you might like to do the honerable thing and step down, you know? For the greater good of the galaxy."

"But…" Kenobi started to say.

"I knew you'd agree." Qui-Gon smiled happily. "Well done that man. You're a good sport Obi-Wan. Actually, I have someone who's interested in buying you. His name's Watto. I know you are going to get on just perfectly…


The Trouble with Midichlorians

"Obi-Wan, I want you to do a midi-chlorian test." Qui-Gon spoke into the comlink in a hushed voice.
"Sure, just give me a moment or two master…ah, here it is."

Jinn almost ground his teeth in anticipation. Wait 'til the council heard about this!

"Well?"

"Well what?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Am I right? Is it true? The boy has the highest concentration of midi-chlorians ever seen in a life form? Is he the chosen one?"

"Master…"

"I am right, aren't I?" He grinned. "This'll alter Windu's constipated expression!"

"Master…"

"Yoda will eat his own stick because I'm just so darned clever!"

"Master…the boy hasn't got two midi-chlorians to rub together." Obi-Wan replied joyously as he studied the readings before him.

Pause.

"Are you sure?"

"Certain, master." Obi-Wan said, crossing his fingers as he spoke.

"Oh, kriffit!" swore Qui-Gon irritably.

"He does have an interesting…er, medical complaint which I would say was genetic, probably passed on from his mother. As long as you stay away from her you should be all right…"

Long pause.

"Master?"

Very long pause.

"Are you still there, master?"


So Long, Farewell…

"Oh, Anni…it's wonderful!" Shmi half gasped, pride glowing in her eyes at her son's achievements. She'd steeled herself to watch during the race, found the courage from somewhere…yet all the time that worry was at the back of her mind. What if her son was killed? What would have happened then?

Thankfully, her precocious offspring had proven himself a worthy champion. Sebulba's name was mud now and then there was this wonderful amount of money that Anakin had just dropped into her hands.

"Now I can make my dreams come true!" she giggled.

"Mom? Sorry, I don't understand? What dreams?"

Qui-Gon knelt down by the fair-haired boy and ruffled his hair.

"Your mother is no longer a slave. She has been freed! She'll be coming back to Coruscant with myself and my apprentice."

"That's fantastic…wait a moment." Anakin scrunched up his face. "I'll be going too, won't I?"

"I'm sorry, Anni. I tried to free you but Watto wouldn't have it."

Qui-Gon looked at Shmi.

"Are you packed?"

"And ready!" grinned the dark haired woman. "All those stars…I'm going to be the first one to see them all! Yippeeeee!"

"But mom," Anakin's lip went all wobbly, "will I ever see you again?"

Shmi stared at him as if he had grown an extra head.

"You must be joking! Nine years of looking after you? I think I'm due a little fun, isn't that right Master Jinn?"

"Precisely." Qui-Gon gave Shmi a peck on the cheek. "Come on, let's go!"

Anakin trailed his mother out onto the streets and watched in disbelief as she took Qui-Gon's arm.

"He's following us." Qui-Gon said in annoyance.

"Shhh!" Shmi hurried her step. "Don't look back!"


The Naboo Ship

"Now stay out of trouble." Obi-Wan said briskly as he left Jar Jar in the hold with the droids. That thing was beginning to get on his nerves. There was something strange about a creature that could that use its own tongue to lasso food from a plate. A neat trick, certainly, but not the sort of thing that Coruscant society would approve of. They thought the Jedi were weird enough without seeing them scale a building using lip suction only...

He was about to close the door behind him when he got an idea…

Qui-Gon frowned.

He could be wrong but he felt as if Obi-Wan wasn't really getting along with everyone else in the party. He just wasn't making the effort or pulling his weight: instead he was moping about miserably with a rather constipated expression on his face. The master decided that maybe he ought to have a word with his padawan on matters of politeness and unacceptable laziness. He couldn't afford to let him slip up now.

"Padawan." Qui-Gon said.

"Oh, It's you. What do you want?" Obi-Wan sulked.

"I wanted to have a little chat."

"We had that when I was thirteen." Kenobi pouted.

"No…not that one." Jinn sighed. "Look there's no easy way of saying this, padawan, but I can't help but feel as if you don't really like anyone else on the ship. Now why would that be?"

"That's not true, master!" Kenobi protested before his smile cracked into a devilish grin. "I think the queen's a right little raver!"

"Hmmm. I'm not sure that's quite how you address the monarch, even in these enlightened and liberal days." Qui-Gon mused. "What about Jar Jar?"

"Him?" Obi-Wan shrugged. "He's just a pathetic lifeform. Why should I care about that Gungan nonentity?"

"Padawan!" scolded Qui-Gon. "Show some respect!"

Obi-Wan pulled a face.

"You aren't doing your share around here. You've had the handmaidens…"

"I have not!"

"…let me finish." Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "You've had the handmaidens doing the maintenance on the ship!"

"There's no such thing as a free ride, not even for the queen of Naboo." Obi-Wan pronounced.

"I'm beginning to worry about you, padawan." Jinn pondered as they headed through to the kitchen prep unit. "I think you might be showing dark side tendencies."

Obi-Wan shrugged and picked up a tray.

"Look, I am sorry you think I'm not pulling my weight around here. And I am not going over to the darkside."

Qui-Gon nodded as he and Obi-Wan wandered through to speak with Panaka and Amidala.

"Where's Jar Jar?" The Queen asked imperious monotone.

"I've got no idea." Obi-Wan picked a glass of the tray and offered it to her.

"Orange goo, anyone?"


The Chosen One

"Master…"

"Obi-Wan, I've told you before."

"But Master, this is just a farce! The council will not go along with this!"

"And why is that?" Qui-Gon tugged impatiently on his beard. Why did Obi-Wan always have to question his every motive? Why could he not just trust him for once?

"He's…he's…" Kenobi spluttered, searching for the right words.

"Too old?"

"Well, yes he is! But that was not what I was about to say and you know it! Master, the council will take one look at him and laugh!"

"No they won't."

"They will!"

"Obi-Wan, please. I must do what I must."

"And so must I…and right now I must tell you that this is the biggest mistake of your life!" Obi-Wan sighed, knowing that Qui-Gon was utterly unmoveable on this one. "Please. Reconsider this time before we go in and face total humiliation."

"He is the chosen one. Why can't you see it?"

Obi-Wan groaned and let his shoulders slump.

"I'm going to find a wall to thump my head off repeatedly." He muttered, walking behind Qui-Gon as they made their way to the council chambers.


"Master Qui-Gon?" Yoda peered up at him, surprised. "Something more you have to say?"
"Yes."

Jinn walked forward, steering the bewildered figure into the centre of the circle so that all the jedi could take a good look at him. One by one mouths began to drop as they leaned forward, staring.

"I request that this Gungan be trained as a jedi."


Master and Apprentice

"Master!" Obi-Wan hurried to the prone figure of his mentor, not wanting to think…to even countenance the idea that this was the end. After all these years together as master and padawan, father and son in many ways. To loose Qui-Gon like this…

No. He would not believe it.

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon raised his blue eyes to meet those of his padawan, pain filled and exhausted with the struggle to keep going that little bit longer so that he could say what needed to be said.

Kenobi listened intently to his master's words, the grief threatening to render their meanings senseless…. wait a moment. What was that?

Train the boy? Him?

"C-could you run that one past me again, master?"

"He is the chosen one…" Qui-Gon gasped. "Train him."

Obi-Wan looked indignantly at his fading master.

"Is that it?" he yelled. "Twelve years of my life and all I get is 'train the boy'? No 'Goodbye, my dear apprentice,' or 'you've been a wonderful padawan, I'm really sorry to be leaving you behind?' All you can say is 'train the boy?' Thank you very much!"

"Listen…Obi-Wan. The boy is…"

"Yeah, yeah. The chosen one. I've heard it all before." Obi-Wan growled.

"Then you will train…?"

Kenobi sniffed.

"S'pose so…"

With considerable relief, Qui-Gon took the opportunity to die right then and there, which Obi-Wan thought was very ungrateful.

"This changes matters somewhat." Obi-Wan frowned, letting Qui-Gon's head fall back against the ground with an undignified thunk. "But with a little bit of careful thought…"

Obi-Wan sat back on his haunches, and then grinned.


"Well, Obi-Wan. You're a padawan no longer." Mace congratulated the young man by clapping him on the back. "If only your master was here to see it."

"Here in spirit, he is." Yoda smiled.

"Where?" Obi-Wan jumped and looked madly about him.

Windu laughed.

"Calm down. You're so jumpy. When Yoda said he was here in spirit I'm sure he meant…" Mace stopped as he stared at some small movement out the corner of his eye. "What is that?"

Each member of the council turned round to see the figure of a young blonde boy wiping at the windows with a dirty rag.

"That is young Skywalker. I told Qui-Gon I'd see he was trained and I've fulfilled my part of the bargain. I've got him a job as an apprentice window cleaner." Obi-Wan walked over to the glass and banged a couple of times to get his attention.

"You've missed a bit." He pointed as Anakin started to furiously rub at the window.

"But he's the Chosen One…" Depa Billaba stated.

"Oh yeah?" Obi-Wan's face lit up underneath his three-day-old beard.

"I didn't choose him."


The Apartment

Obi-Wan's senses were stretched in all directions, searching for any disturbance in the force or telltale ripple that might alert him to possible trouble. The attack on senator Amidala had, not surprisingly, left a subdued feeling amongst the former Queen's personnel. Even the R2 Unit seemed distinctly pensive for an astro-droid.

It appeared to be catching by all accounts, if Anakin's brooding visage was anything to go by. Troubled by bad dreams and plagued by his unguarded childish adoration for Padme - not that Obi-Wan could blame him - Anakin seemed edgy and even tenser than he had been in the elevator. Perhaps, Obi-Wan wondered with a brief smile, he was the only one calm enough to think rationally.

He'd tried to explain this to Anakin but his padawan seemed unable to listen: either that or he simply did not want to. In order to be at his most alert a Jedi had to be relaxed and at peace with himself so that he might best understand the will of the force, and harness it for his own use. But Anakin seemed content to mope, and Obi-Wan did not fancy lecturing him needlessly at the cost of his own breath.

Anakin was so darned confident! Overconfident, perhaps. He was so convinced his own abilities and superior skill would see him through that he was prepared to take ridiculous risks at the cost of other people. He sighed to himself, shaking his head as he did so. There had to be a middle ground, surely? Maybe he should lighten up on Anakin?

Perhaps Anakin should tone down his constant chaffing against authority?

"Fat chance." Obi-Wan muttered, folding his arms and walking up to the tall figure of his apprentice.

Anakin barely raised his eyes to acknowledge him.

"What's going on?" Frowned Obi-Wan, nodding at the security holocam which currently appeared to be registering nothing but empty space.

"She turned it off." Anakin's voice seemed strangely petulant. "I don't think she liked the idea of me watching her in the nude. Or the shower. Or in the bedroom."

"Hardly surprising." Kenobi felt obliged to point out. "You have a nasty habit of staring at people from underneath your brows. It gives the impression you're going to choke them to death."

"You make me sound like a pervert, master!" Protested Anakin, before adding, "I think she could have been more grateful. I wouldn't have stared at her too much whilst she was undressing. After all it was my brilliant idea to allow the assassin to try and kill her, thus allowing us to jump on him and find out who was behind the attempt on Padme's life at the landing platform. And then I would be the hero of the day and then she'd kiss me…and stuff."

"It's the 'and stuff' she probably has issues with." Obi-Wan remarked wryly. "So, you're using her as bait?"

"She agreed." Sulked Anakin. "Well, okay…it was her idea. But it was my idea to program R2 to alert us to any danger."

"I don't like it." Kenobi replied, uncomfortable with the idea of putting senator Amidala's life in danger whilst under the Jedi's protection. "It's too risky. Besides which, your senses aren't fully attuned."

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

In the background there were two screams followed by a dull thud of something hitting the ground.

"You see!" Obi-Wan shouted as they ran to the bedroom in where Padme's body lay. "Why do you never listen to me!"


Tusken Camp

Anakin stood motionless beside the thin walls of the Tusken hut, lightsabre raised, ready for any trouble that might come his way. He knew where his mother was…he could sense her; just as he had sensed her in his troubled dreams more than half the galaxy away. All that stood between them were the thin wattle and daub walls and the animal skins that comprised the little shelter. One swing of the sabre and they would be reunited.

Shmi had once asked him if he believed he would see her again. Anakin had replied yes, although at the time there had been more than a hint of wanting to believe it rather than truly feeling that deep down it would be so. And now, after over ten years had passed, here he was.

He'd tried to imagine this moment again and again in his mind, daydreaming and hoping that one day his dearest wish might come true. Obi-Wan had been sympathetic but could never really hope to understand: how could he? He was a Jedi; trained from the cradle or infancy to form no deep bonds or strong attachments, or owe any allegiance to those except the order they served. Even Qui-Gon's death had been put behind him with unbelievable speed. At the time Anakin had thought it strange, but now he could see why the Jedi chose to renounce personal devotion to other beings. Such feelings overwhelmed and clouded judgement.

Yet was it so selfish to want to save his own mother?

Was it?

Obi-Wan must surely have had a mother - unless he'd been hatched rather than born. Did he have no memory of her? Did he never wonder who she was, or if she was still alive? Did he ever see her in his dreams? Or wonder in what circumstances he had been brought to the temple? Anakin hoped that his master would understand why he had left Naboo with Padme and travelled to Tatooine. Or that if he did not he would at least forgive him in time.

His mother was in pain. But he would soon rescue her and set her free of her suffering. He dreaded to see the damage the Tuskens had done. Cleig Lars was missing a leg: several of his party had been killed. These people were savage: insatiable in their lust for mayhem and cruelty. But she was alive…Anakin could feel it! And no matter what happened he would free her.

He steadied his breath, then pierced the walls of the tent with his lightsabre, twisting the blade so that the swept around in a circular arc. An acrid smell of burned animal skins met his nostrils as the blade turned. As Anakin deactivated his sabre and stepped through the tent he tripped over a hard object lying on the floor and went sprawling forward.

"Mom?" Anakin called out, looking around him for any trace of his mother. "It's me! It's Anakin! Where are you?"

He looked down at his feet, and then realised that the object he had tripped over was the inert body of his mother who, it appeared, he had accidentally decapitated whilst lightsabring his way into the tent through the thin walls of the tent…

"Oops." Anakin gulped.


Across the Stars

TATOOINE, After the funeral:

"Padme, why do you keep pressing the same button?" Anakin asked curiously. "I mean, is it an all-purpose button? Does it fire up rockets, relay messages, lift the ship off the ground and make the tea?"

"I thought you were too frightened to tease a senator?" Padme replied sharply. "The other Jedi will never reach Obi-Wan in time. Neither will we if we stop to talk about how the ship operates. I am going to help Obi-Wan. If you want to protect me you'll just have to come along."

Anakin grinned. This was his kind of female! Strong, beautiful, determined...and wearing a rather revealing all-in-one white jumpsuit. He was perfectly happy to stick with Padme (or stick to her). Still, he'd much rather be the one flying the ship. Watching as Padme hit the all-purpose it-does-everything button, Anakin got a very bad feeling...

Much to Anakin's surprise nothing initially seemed to go wrong. In fact Padme seemed to be that rarest of rare things: a competent female pilot. Girls just didn't have that drive - that edge - that flying required. They were too busy thinking about dark curly hair and dreamy eyes to be able to call on the necessary amounts of concentration needed to pilot a ship properly. There were lots of things that girls could do well, but their genetics were against them. Padme was intelligent, there was no question of that, but she was wasted as a senator. Such beauty should be gazed at adoringly all day, just as he had when they'd picnicked in the meadow on Naboo, frolicking and rolling in the tall grass.

Padme had been good for a roll.

"So you can fly a ship." Anakin attempted to make conversation as the craft left the planet's atmosphere. "What else can you do?"

"I'm not telling you." Padme winked at him. "That would ruin the surprise."

"The real test is whether you can make the tea." Anakin pretended to be unimpressed. "That's what girls do best, isn't it?"

Padme's eyes darkened dramatically as she stabbed angrily at the multi-purpose button with her index finger. Suddenly the cockpit light pulsed red, and the padawan got swift insight into the reason for his bad feeling.

"Er, Padme?" Anakin gulped softly. "That button. It's wouldn't double as the self-destruct, would it?"

The numbers began to tick down on the cockpit monitor by way of a reply.

"Damned women drivers!" Anakin growled angrily, seconds before the ship blew itself sky high, scattering its atoms across the stars…