On the royal corvette, the lookout felt the winds change. Inland, he could see a massive cloud of sand coming over the horizon at a startling pace. He called down his observation to the bridge.

Obi-Wan stroked his chin, unconsciously mimicking his master. "That storm will slow them down."

Captain Panaka agreed. "It sounds like it'll be a bad one."

"I do hope they'll be all right."

In the port village, the wind was starting to pick up. Qui-Gon sensed something else, something malicious, heading their way. The sound of Anakin's voice snapped him back to the present.

"Here, you'll like these pallies," the boy said, offering some food wrapped in a simple cloth.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon said. He moved the front of his poncho out of the way to put the bundle in his pouch. As he did so, Anakin saw the leather-wrapped hilt of Qui-Gon's Lightblade.

Before Anakin could mention it, the old lady who had given him the pallies gave a groan. "Oh, my bones are aching. Storm's a-coming, Ani. Best hurry home."

Anakin looked to his new friends. "Do you have shelter?"

"We'll head back to our ship," Qui-Gon said with a friendly smile.

"At the docks?"

"No, it's a short way up the coast," Padmé said.

"You'll never get to it in time! Sandstorms are really, really dangerous. You can stay at my place for the night. Come on."

Artu-Deetu chirped, happy to not have to make the long trip back to the ship to get away from the oncoming storm.

They weren't quite able to make it back to the slave quarters before the sandstorm hit. Sharp grains buffeted them, each stinging them on any skin left exposed. Visibility was poor, but Anakin knew where he was going. With his guidance, it wasn't too much time until they reached his home.

Once inside, he called out to tell his mother that he was home. A kind-faced woman, perhaps just shy of middle age, emerged from a doorway.

"These are my friends, mom."

"Hello," Jar Jar said.

"I'm Qui-Gon Jinn. Your son was kind enough to offer us shelter for the night."

"Hello, I'm Shmi Skywalker, Anakin's mother."

Anakin looked to Padmé. "I'm building an automaton. Want to see?" Padmé nodded and he took her hand excitedly, guiding her towards his room. "His name is Threepio." Artu followed as well, interested in seeing what kind of automaton a child could make.

In his room, Anakin pulled back the sheet he had covering his creation. The automaton was one of the humanoid diplomatic ones, albeit without the outer casing. Tubing, gears, cables and gyros were all visible inside his metal skeleton.

Anakin beamed with pride. "Isn't he great? I made him from a bunch of the scrap automaton parts we get in."

Padmé was floored. "He's wonderful!" Artu beeped in agreement.

"You really think so? I'm making him to help Mom while I'm at Watto's shop. Watch this!" He touched the activation rune on the back of the automaton's neck.

"Oh! Oh, where is everybody?" Threepio's voice was the typical posh masculine voice for a diplomatic automaton. He looked around blindly.

"Oops," Anakin said, realizing he had forgotten to reinstall Threepio's eyes. He gave them a quick polish before fitting them into his face.

"Ah, hello. I am See Threepio. How might I serve you?"

Seeing Anakin's automaton move and speak made his work that much more impressive for his age. "He's perfect," Padmé said.

"Oh? Perfect?" Threepio rose to his feet to stretch his leg cables.

Anakin smiled at Padmé. "When the storm is over, I'll show you my sandsailer. It's my other project."

Artu whistled at Threepio's clumsy steps. "I'm not sure this floor is entirely stable." He walked over to the nautical automaton. "I don't believe we have been introduced."

Artu beeped his name.

"Artu-Deetu! A pleasure to meet you! I am See Threepio."

The squat automaton chirped and whistled.

"I'm sorry, but what do you mean by 'naked?'"

Another series of whistles and beeps.

"My parts are showing? Oh, my goodness!"

Padmé and Anakin laughed as the two automata interacted.

Obi-Wan and Captain Panaka stood on the corvette's bridge, watching the storm swallowing the village as the sun dipped below the horizon. One of the Queen's bodyguards rushed up the steps from the lower decks. "Captain Panaka! We're receiving a message from home!"

Captain Panaka and Obi-Wan rushed below deck to the communication room. The font's silver pool had just taken the shape of Naboo's senior governor. The Queen stood in front of the font, her face serious.

"Your Highness, I'm sorry to bring such grave news. The Federation is merciless in their occupation. The death toll is catastrophic. I beg you, please return and sign the treaty. If nothing else, your Highness, please contact me. I'm not sure how much longer our people can endure this."

No sooner had the governor's form melted away than Obi-Wan was addressing the Queen. "It's a trick, send no reply. If we send long-range communications of any kind, they could use it to find us."

Captain Panaka crossed his arms. "I agree, as painful as the governor's words are, we can't take any risk of being found."

"Very well," Queen Amidala said. "I shall follow your counsel."

Not long after, Obi-Wan contacted his master and explained what had transpired.

"I agree," Qui-Gon said. "It sounds like bait for them to trace the message."

"But on the other hand, what if it is true? What if her people are dying?"

"Either way, we're running out of time." Qui-Gon closed his pocket font with a click.

Far away, as night fell on the world, dark dealings were taking place. On a balcony in Coruscant, the magnificent and sprawling capital of the Republic, Lord Sidious spoke with his apprentice as they watched the night life of the city below.

Darth Maul spoke in a calm tone that would chill the heart of even the most stalwart knight. "The trace was faint, but my visions told me the same place: Tattooine. It's sparsely populated. It won't take long to find them, Master."

"Move against the Jedi first. Then you will have no difficulty returning the Queen to Naboo," Sidious said.

Maul gave a wicked, sharp-toothed smile. "At last we reveal ourselves to the Jedi. At last we shall have our revenge."

"You have been well-trained, my apprentice. They will be no match for you. Go, bring us victory."

The sandstorm raged through the night and into the morning hours. The accomodations in Anakin's home weren't made for so many guests, but everyone made do. Shmi prepared a breakfast for her guests. It wasn't much, but they were grateful for the hospitality.

Over the meal, the conversation turned to the conditions the family faced as slaves. "Every slave has an enchanted iron shackle around their ankle," Shmi explained.

"I've been trying to make something to remove them, But I don't understand the magics yet," Anakin said, scooping a spoonful of gruel.

"Any attempt at escape is pointless. Once you pass a certain distance from your owner, the shackle paralyzes you and causes unbearable pain." Shmi's eyes went distant, as though haunted by a memory.

Padmé was visibly upset. "I can't believe there's still slavery in the world. The Republic's antislavery laws-"

Shmi shook her head. "The Republic doesn't exist out here. We have to survive on our own."

Anakin sensed the dark mood that had come from that line of conversation and changed the subject. "Have any of you ever seen a sandsailer race?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "They have sandsailing in Malastare. Very fast, very dangerous."

"I'm the only human around here who can do it," Anakin said confidently.

Qui-Gon smirked. "You must have Jedi reflexes to be able to do that."

Anakin looked at Qui-Gon carefully. "You're a Jedi, aren't you?"

Qui-Gon was caught off-guard. "What makes you think that?"

"I saw your light sword. Only Jedi use those."

"Well, maybe I killed a Jedi and took it from them."

"I don't think so. No one can kill a Jedi."

"I wish that were so..." Qui-Gon's voice was somewhat distant.

"I had a dream I was a Jedi," Anakin said, poking his gruel with his spoon. "I came back here and freed all the slaves." He looked up to Qui-Gon. "Have you come to free us?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I think you have. Why else would you be all the way out here?" Anakin looked to Padmé, whose face was downcast.

Qui-Gon sighed. "I can see there's no fooling you, Anakin. We're on our way to Coruscant- to the capital of the Republic, on a vital mission."

Anakin looked confused. "How did you end up here in the Outer Rim?"

Padmé answered. "Our ship was damaged, and we're stranded here until we can fix it."

Anakin lit up. "I can help! I can fix anything!"

Qui-Gon chuckled. "I believe you can. But first, we have to get the parts we need."

"And wesa having no money to trade," Jar Jar added.

Padmé shook her head. "These salvage traders must have some weakness."

"Gambling," Shmi said. "Everything around here revolves around betting on those sandsailer races."

Qui-Gon pondered this. "Hmm. Sometimes greed can be a powerful ally.

"I built a sandsailer," Anakin said. "It's the fastest ever! There's a big race tomorrow, on Boonta Eve. You could enter my sailer."

Shmi wasn't pleased. "Anakin! Watto won't let you!"

"He doesn't know I built it." Anakin looked to Qui-Gon with a fire in his eye. "You could tell him it was yours and get him to let me sail it for you."

Shmi was becoming more upset. "I don't want you to race, it's awful! I die everytime Watto makes you do it!"

"But Mom, I love it! The prize money would more than pay for any parts they need."

"Anakin..."

"You're mother's right." Qui-Gon turned to Shmi. "Is there anyone friendly to the Republic who could help us?"

Shmi sighed. "No..."

The table went silent for a few moments before Anakin spoke up. "Mom, you always say the biggest problem in this world is nobody helps one another."

Shmi looked at her son thoughtfully.

"I'm sure Qui-Gon doesn't want to put your son in danger," Padmé said. "We'll find some other way."

"No," Shmi said resignedly. "There is no other way. I may not like it, but he can help you. He was meant to help you."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Thank you. Both of you."

After the storm had cleared, Qui-Gon, Padmé, Jar Jar, and Artu-Deetu headed back out to Watto's shop. In the market, stall keepers were busy clearing away accumulated sand from their stands, eager to set up for another day's trading. One merchant was busy reassembling the cover for his stall, which had collapsed during the night.

As Qui-Gon and his cohorts neared Watto's shop, Padmé spoke up. "Are you sure about this? Trusting our fates and the people of Naboo to a boy we only just met? There's no way the Queen will approve."

"The Queen needn't know. The Force has led us here. I know we will not be led astray."

"Well, I don't approve." Padmé sat outside the shop, sulking.

The magic bell chimed as Qui-Gon entered the shop. Watto and Anakin stood in the middle of the room, Anakin clutching a broom with a pile of sand at his feet.

"So, the boy tells me thee wants to sponser him in the race. How will thee do this? Not on Thalers, methinks," Watto said smugly.

"My ship will be the entry fee." Qui-Gon held up an image disc displaying a rotating picture of the ship.

"Ahh, yes. A Nubian corvette."

"It's in fair shape, save for some minor damage and the missing crystal." He slipped the disc back into his pouch.

"Mm, but what would the boy ride? He crashed my last sailer. It would take some time to fix it."

Anakin piped up. "It wasn't my fault though, Sebulba pushed me off the course! I managed to save the sailer, mostly."

"Ahh, that thee did." Watto laughed. "The boy's good, no doubts there, huh?"

"Well, I have acquired a sailer in a game of chance. The fastest ever built."

"I hope thee didn't kill anyone I know for it, huh?" Watto laughed again. He was enjoying today's negotiations. " So, thee supply the sailer and the entry fee, I supply the boy, we split the winnings, say, fifty-fifty."

"If it's going to be fifty-fifty, I say you pay the entry fee. If we win, you keep all the winnings, minus the cost for the crystal. If I lose, you keep my ship. Either way, you come out ahead."

Watto scratched his stubbly chin, thinking it over. "Hmm... Deal!"

Qui-Gon and Watto shook on it, and Qui-Gon left the shop. After he was gone, Watto turned to Anakin. "Methinks he is a foolish one."

For the time being, Qui-Gon and the others stayed in the Skywalker home. Qui-Gon contacted Obi-Wan. He told him of meeting Anakin and him offering them shelter. He told Obi-Wan of Anakin's plan and how things were going so far.

"But what if this plan fails, Master? We could be stranded here for a very long time."

"Well, it's too dangerous to call for help, and a ship without a Hyperion crystal will take months to reach Coruscant." Qui-Gon paused. "And there's something about this boy..."

A moment after closing his pocket font, Qui-Gon noticed Shmi coming out to speak with him.

Qui-Gon smiled. "You should be proud of your son. He gives without any thought of reward." He looked out at the boy who worked busily on his sandsailer.

"Well, he knows nothing of greed," Shmi said. "He has a..."

"He has special powers," Qui-Gon finished.

"Yes."

"He can see things before they happen, that's why he seems to have such sharp reflexes. That's a Jedi trait."

Shmi looked out at her son. "He deserves better than a slave's life."

"Had he been born in the Republic, he would have been identified early. I feel the Force very strongly in him, moreso than I've ever sensed in someone his age. If you don't mind me asking, who was his father?"

Shmi looked up to Qui-Gon. "That's the thing, there was no father."

Qui-Gon looked at her, perplexed.

Shmi continued. "I carried him, I gave birth to him, I raised him. I- I can't explain what happened."

Qui-Gon's eyes slowly widened with realization. Could it be? Could this boy be the Chosen One from the ancient prophecy? The one who would bring the end to an age of darkness and bring balance to the Force? That they had been guided here was not by chance, of that, there was no doubt. His tireless lifelong dedication had granted him the honor of discovering the Chosen One.

Shmi's voice broke him out of his awe. "Can you help him?"

He had to be honest. "I don't know, but I will do everything I can."

Over by the sandsailer, a group of local children came running up to see Anakin's work.

"Hey, hey, Ani," one of the children said.

Anakin looked up from what he was doing. "Hi!"

The child noticed Artu next to the sailer. "Wow! A real nautomaton! How did you get so lucky?"

"That isn't the half of it. I'm in the Boonta race tomorrow."

A girl from the group looked at the sailer doubtfully. "What? With this?"

A Rodian child laughed. "You're such a joker, Ani."

"You've been working on that things for years, Ani. It's never going to work."

"Ah, leave him. Let's go play!"

"Keep racing, Ani. You're gonna be a bugsplat!" With this, the children left leaving Anakin to his work.

Allow me at this time to explain sandsailers and how they work. The base of a sandsailer is a small sailboat with a thin profile and an outrigger on each side. Mounted lengthwise on each of these outriggers is a tin covered wooden pole, as thick around as a man's thigh. The tin plates must seamlessly cover every part of these poles and runes must be cut in specific locations along the poles' lengths. These runes allow the boat to travel across nearly any surface as though it were water, but the runes of both poles must be present for the enchantment to work, otherwise the sailer is like any other boat on land. The sails are specially set up to allow wind from any direction to propel the sailer, and races take place in the windiest areas of the world. Steering is achieved with rein-like cables attached to a standard rudder.

Jar Jar was up near the front of one of the outriggers, tightening the collar that held the pole in place. The tin plates had become quite hot in the sun and he accidentally burned himself on them, dropping the wrench. He picked the wrench off the ground from under the outrigger, but as he stood up, he hit his head against it.

Threepio stood watching Jar Jar's antics unfold and turned to Artu, who stood next to him. "You know, I find that Jar Jar creature to be quite odd." Artu beeped in agreement.

Qui-Gon looked over the land ship and turned to Anakin. "I think it's time to see if your efforts have paid off."

"Yes, sir!" Anakin climbed aboard his sailer and into the pilot's seat, taking hold of the rudder cables. He pressed in the activation rune and the tin poles hummed with magical energies. The sailer's keel settled into the sand as though it were water. "It's working! It's working!"

From the door to the house, Shmi looked at Anakin, filled with pride, but also worry. She was terrified of what the next day might bring.

With all the structural, mechanical, and magical parts of the sailer working properly, all that remained was to paint it. Anakin, Qui-Gon, Padmé, and Jar Jar worked until sunset, and by then the sailer was an eye-catching yellow and blue.

After work had finished, Qui-Gon tended to a cut Anakin had on his arm. Anakin stared into the distance, looking out to sea and the moon reflected on its darkened surface. "I've heard about so many other lands from the sailors. Has anyone ever been to them all?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "Not likely."

"Then I want to be the first! Ow!"

Qui-Gon had placed his hand on the cut and had used his healing magic. Anakin watched as the skin sealed back up before his eyes. "There we are, good as new."

From inside the house, Shmi called out. "Ani! Bedtime!"

"Coming!" Anakin looked at Qui-Gon, who had placed some of the blood he had cleaned off of Anakin's arm into a strange looking tube device. "What are you doing?"

Qui-Gon looked up. "Checking for any infection. Go on to bed. You have a big day tomorrow."

After Anakin had gone inside, he looked at the device. Numbered wheels ticked around rapidly, reading higher and higher. This was not a device for looking for infection, but one to measure magical residue, specifically Force magics. The higher the number rose, the more excited Qui-Gon became. When the number finally stopped, he pulled out his pocket font and called Obi-Wan.

"Yes, Master?"

Qui-Gon concealed his excitement."I just did a count on the boy's blood."

"What did it say?"

"It's past twenty thousand."

"But... That's a higher count than even Master Yoda."

"That's higher than ever recorded in any Jedi," Qui-Gon corrected.

"What does this mean?"

"I have a theory, but I have to meditate on it first."

"Very well, Master."