Part of her is Padmé, and part is Amidala.
Padmé visited the simple houses in Mos Espa. Amidala goes between the immense sunscrapers of Coruscant. Padmé knows how to help an astromech reassemble an engine. Amidala knows how to turn the gears of diplomacy to balance the needs of the Core and the Outer Rim alike. Padmé looks forward to being an aunt. Amidala looks forward to meeting her new pages in the Senate.
Amidala knows that one person's effort will never solve all the problems in the galaxy. Padmé knows that she cannot stand by any longer.
Amidala draws a stipend convertible into many currencies, republic standard and otherwise. Padmé returns to Tatooine.
Watto is crude and unpleasant, but he's at least straightforward to talk to, which is more that can be said for certain Senators. "You're an off-worlder."
"Yes."
"What's a pretty off-worlder like you doing on a planet like this?"
"Sometimes one's spaceship crashes," says Padmé truthfully.
"And carrying around a bag of good solid coins?"
"You never know when you'll need good solid coins."
"You ain't looking to marry, are you? I hear tell of rich humans who set slaves free just to marry 'em, but she's old for a human."
"Never you mind why I'm here," says Padmé. "Are we agreed, or not?"
"Agreed? You're a fool is what you are, but that's not my problem. Take your friend and go."
"Friend" doesn't seem particularly accurate, to Padmé, but neither do any of the other options.
Shmi had recognized her right away, even though she wasn't calling herself a handmaiden anymore. Perhaps from the vantage point of Tatooine, a queen and a handmaiden and a senator might as well be the same thing.
"Where do you want to go?" Padmé asks. "My homeworld is Naboo-it's a very wet planet. Mostly humans, but there are Gungans on the other side, I suppose you remember them too. And Coruscant is the capital, of course, all kinds of people there. If there's somewhere else-"
Shmi interrupts. "Do you know where my son is?"
The boy. Right. "Yes and no. The Jedi Temple is on Coruscant, I would think they would have some idea where he went even if he isn't there right now. But..." What had the Jedi called himself? "Master" feels wrong. "Qui-Gon Jinn, the man who was here, was killed shortly after we left Tatooine."
"My condolences."
"Thank you. I-didn't know him well, but he was a loyal warrior. So I'm not sure if Anakin went to study with Obi-Wan, or somewhere else. But we'll find him," says Padmé, when Shmi tenses slightly. "I trust in the Force, and I also trust in the Jedi library's databases."
Sabé has proved her expertise in a variety of unexpected situations, from partaking in Gungan religious festivals and eating their aquatic cuisine to calculating how hyperspace travel would affect perishable goods from Takodana. But Padmé is still surprised to see her take an interested in Shmi. "I sent Cordé to check up on her," Sabé notes, as Padmé returns from a meeting with Bail Organa. "She's doing fine."
"Of course," says Padmé. "I told her to comm me if she needs anything."
"I'm sure lots of people say that, you can't take them at their word." Before Padmé can protest-how is the galaxy going to get along if no one can trust one another?-Sabé continues, "And you'll want to schedule her for a meddroid."
"She's twice my age," says Padmé, "she can schedule her own meddroid appointments without me holding her hand."
"Does she know where to get the transponders removed? There aren't too many specialists around here, but maybe on the forty-odd sector."
"Transponders?"
"Slave tracking devices. I suppose now that she's freed it shouldn't be an issue, but you never know, there could be health side effects."
I was on the ground in Tatooine while you were dressed as the Queen, Padmé thinks; don't talk down to me. But part of politics is knowing when to speak and when to be silent. "Thank you for the advice."
"I should warn you," Padmé says. "The Jedi can be...peculiar, at times."
Shmi gives a soft laugh. "Every planet is."
"I spoke with Obi-Wan Kenobi yesterday. He wanted to remind me that Anakin is an unusual student, in that he remembers most of his life before the Temple. The teachers there probably aren't used to that, and they might not have encouraged him to think too much about Tatooine."
"Anakin was unusual in many ways," Shmi says. Padmé resists the urge to ask more.
Obi-Wan had also explained that Anakin was no longer at the point where he'd be spending all day with classmates. Students had begun to pursue individual courses of study, and Anakin was working in a machine shop for some of his training. The Force-sensitives did not have much use for protocol droids, but apparently even the Jedi found some use for modern technology.
A six-legged alien supervises as a pair of young Twi'leks fashion a lightweight prosthetic arm out of plastic, and a Wookiee patiently tests various configurations of wheels on some kind of bicycle. Anakin, while not as tall as the Wookiee, is a far cry from the child Padmé had met on Tatooine. He's gangly and hard-eyed, wearing his hair in a Padawan braid.
"Apprentice Skywalker?" trills the hexapod. "You have some visitors here from the Senate."
Padmé, not wanting to intrude, steps beside the Twi'leks and pretends to be interested in their holographic projections. The Wookiee regards Shmi with some amusement. Tourists who want to watch Jedi in action usually pick more glamorous training programs to witness.
Anakin does a double-take, then another. "Mom?" he stammers.
"Oh, Ani," says Shmi, racing to hug him. "Look at you! You're so tall!"
They tread in ellipses sometimes, binary stars orbiting a common center of gravity. Padmé reminds Shmi she's free to go anywhere, Shmi tells Padmé she won't feel at ease without something to do, Padmé tries to duck out of her way, Shmi says that she wants to stay on Coruscant near the temple anyway, Padmé needs to stay near the Senate anyway. But before Sabé can step in and try to save the day again, one of Padmé's casework managers goes on leave to lay eggs beneath the frigid moons of Kovere, and Shmi fills in adeptly, processing forms for emigrating Gungans and delegating administrative duties for the Lake District. Perhaps the most remarkable thing is that Anakin's clanking protocol droid is actually a useful translator.
"He's doing well," Shmi reports-it's her favorite sentence-on her way into the office. "A little disgruntled they don't have much call for pilots. If you hear of any uprisings, do let him know."
Padmé laughs. "Give him my best."
Shmi hesitates. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea."
"You don't?" He is not the little boy who called her an angel, of course, but she doesn't want to get on a Jedi knight's bad side.
"I think he resents you."
"Would you rather live closer to him? I'm sure there are lots of positions near the temple, they're not all Jedi-"
Shmi cuts her off with the raise of a hand. "For being strong enough-financially, politically-to set me free. He thinks that was his job."
"He's just a kid!" Padmé protests. "Jedi training is demanding even for people who've been there their whole lives. And some of them are ascetics, you know, no galactic possessions."
"I know that," says Shmi, "but he doesn't, and you try reasoning with someone who sees it has his duty to fight for the galaxy."
"I see," says Padmé. "Well, it's too bad he feels that way, but I'm not sorry for what I did." The galaxy could be full of injustice, but even small actions could bring hope.
Shmi smiles, and for her, it says a lot. "Neither am I."