Whispers of Menace
A Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace Alternate Universe
Chapter Six:
Surprise Rescue and Running the Blockade
Theed proved to be a city of many tiers, the roads at ground level apparently intended for deliveries of all kinds. Bridges and walkways arched across the gaps, casting more shadows on the lowest paths.
As soon as Obi-Wan found a public access to the higher areas, we moved to the third level, ten meters or more above the cobblestones. I dropped back each time we came to a bridge, waiting for the humans to give the 'all clear' before making my crossing. My montrals rose nearly twenty centimeters higher from my eyes than the tops of their heads did from their own eyes. No peering over railings and around corners for me.
We were across a plaza from the largest building in the city—I figured it was probably the palace—when Kenobi spotted one of the people we needed to speak with: Queen Amidala. He and Qui-Gon couldn't tell if any of the Nemoidians watching the group was Nute Gunray, but the small human entourage guaranteed that the elaborately gowned young woman was the monarch. Five other young women wearing simpler and identical hooded dresses surrounded her, along with five Naboo guards and some prominent local. A dozen battle droids were herding them along, though the Queen's carriage made it seem that she was the one giving orders.
Timing was crucial; we had to wait until the group was a mere two meters from the bridge we crouched upon. Then we leapt into action.
I focused on the droids closest to the young women, landing on the nearest one hard enough to shear apart the waist and neck joints. Another lost its head to one of my lightsabers, and I sliced a third droid right down the middle. I destroyed a fourth just as Jar Jar tumbled from the bridge onto the last mechanical menace, quite literally making it go to pieces.
"Yousa guys bombad!" he cheered, trying to extricate himself from the tangled remains. I ignored him, gently but quickly guiding the girls—I could swear that they were all in their mid-teens—into a shadow-filled alley nearby. The rest of the group followed, even the blasted Gungan. My comrades and I bowed briefly to the petite ruler.
"Your Highness," Qui-Gon began, "we are the ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor."
"Your negotiations seem to have failed." The gray-haired politician's accusation was bitter. I could certainly understand the sentiment, as he was likely upset and disoriented from the long blockade, sudden invasion, and being taken prisoner.
"The negotiations never took place." I kept my voice calm and level. "The diplomatic cruiser that brought us here was destroyed, and the Trade Federation tried to kill us." My focus moved back to the Queen, her face made up in white with a bit of red, her gown in mourning black. "Your Highness, we must make contact with the Republic."
"They've knocked out all our communications." This came from the man whose uniform indicated that he commanded the other four guardsmen. He, too, was upset, but in a much angrier way.
"Do you have transports?" Master Jinn's stance said that he was as eager to leave the system as I was.
"In the main hangar," the guard commander replied. "This way." We moved off at a decent jog, the Queen and her handmaidens lifting their skirts to move faster with less chance of tripping. As we went, I got a better look at most of the girls; one had bright blue eyes, while the others shared dark brown ones, including the young monarch. Their facial characteristics were very similar, making me suspect that they might play a shell game with who wore the Queen's trappings.
The commander led us to a side door of the palace. The klaxons were sounding the alarm before anyone approached the entry, meaning that someone had seen our little rescue out front. So droids would be actively searching for us, making our escape a little more difficult.
Still, the commander, who introduced himself as Captain Panaka, was able to guide us through the corridors without encountering any of the mechanical fiends. We stopped at a relatively small, old-fashioned door—the kind with hinges. Opening it just a bit, Panaka and Qui-Gon crowded together to assess the situation.
"There are too many of them," the captain muttered, probably referring to battle droids.
"That won't be a problem." The Jedi Master turned to face the youthful sovereign. "Your Highness, under the circumstances, I suggest you come to Coruscant with us." I watched her face, noting that her eyes darted toward one of the handmaidens.
"Thank you, Ambassador." Her voice was formal and resonant. "But my place is here, with my people."
"They will kill you if you stay," Obi-Wan pointed out, his tone hushed but urgent.
"They wouldn't dare!" the politician spluttered in outrage.
"They need her to sign a treaty to make this invasion of theirs legal," Panaka added. "They can't afford to kill her." The bad feeling that had started on the Trade Federation's flagship ratcheted up several notches, and I shuddered. If I'd had hair, it would have been standing on end.
"The situation here is not what it seems." Qui-Gon shook his head. "There is something else behind all this, Your Highness. There is no logic in the Federation's move here." I fixed my own stare on the Queen and her handmaidens.
"My feelings tell me they will destroy you." I tried to project how deadly serious I was about this. "All of you, if they decide it's necessary."
"Please, Your Highness, reconsider." Apparently I'd gotten through to the older man. "Our only hope now is for the Senate to side with us." He paused. "Senator Palpatine will need your help."
"Getting past their blockade is impossible, Your Highness," the captain argued. "Any attempt to escape will be dangerous.
The exchange made me think of a one-on-one blastball game. Amidala seemed torn between her options.
"Your Highness, I will stay here and do what I can," the politician promised. "They will have to retain the Council of Governors to maintain control. But you must leave."
The Queen turned to a pair of handmaidens—the blue-eyed one and the one she'd glanced at before. "Either choice presents a great risk… to all of us." The shell game theory was looking more likely by the second.
"We are brave, Your Highness," the brown-eyed girl responded confidently.
"If you are to leave, it must be now." She stood a better chance of surviving the escape with three Jedi along.
"Then I will plead our case before the Senate," the young ruler declared after another quick look at the handmaiden who'd spoken. "Be careful, Governor." The portly man bowed and disappeared down the corridor while the rest of us carefully slipped through the door.
A pair of large columns provided cover, as though they'd been placed to hide the door from casual observers. Two platoons of droids were there, ten standing guard around a sleek, chromed star cruiser, fifteen patrolling around a dozen yellow-and-chrome starfighters, and the remainder watching a group of humans who appeared to be the vessels' pilots and crew.
"We need to free those pilots," Panaka murmured.
"I'll take care of that." Obi-Wan was quick to volunteer, but he paused when I put a hand on one of his shoulders.
"Let me take out some of the patrollers, first. Create some confusion." I smirked.
"Just you against all those droids?" a guard asked.
"Who said I was going out there? Being a Jedi isn't all lightsaber duels and levitation." I wouldn't fault him for the assumption, though; in my experience, it was all too common.
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, centering myself. Then, on the exhale, I mentally reached for the most distant droid I could affect and caused a short in its power core, instantaneously frying all its circuits. The clatter as its smoking remains fell drew the attention of the rest of the patrollers and several other droids.
As they grouped together, I was able to manipulate more of them with each pulse of Force energy sent skittering though their systems. The Federation wouldn't be able to simply repair them; every board and motivator would have to be melted down and replaced.
A small jolt of pain ran up my extended arm, signaling that I was reaching the limits of my Force abilities. I released Kenobi's shoulder, and he correctly interpreted it as a signal to start his own assault. His pale blue lightsaber moved swiftly, felling the droids that had maintained their positions around the seated Naboo.
Master Jinn's plan quickly became apparent, as he walked right up to the droid nearest the cruiser's boarding ramp. I followed with the girls and the guards, stopping when the hunk of junk reacted to the Jedi Master's approach.
"Where are you going?"
"I am the ambassador for the Supreme Chancellor," Qui-Gon announced with a serene dignity. "I am taking these people to Coruscant."
"Uh, Coruscant…" The droid's slim head turned from side to side. "Uh, ah… Does not compute." It raised its blaster to point at the tall human's chest. "You're under arrest!"
Now we had no option but to fight. I did my best to shield our 'precious cargo' from enemy fire, but it didn't last long—partly because the mechanicals lacked real intelligence. Fatigue crept up on me as I followed the humans and one terrified Gungan into the cruiser. I'd really pushed myself dangerously close to burnout. Since my Knighting, I could count such occasions on one hand.
I was going to need sleep as soon as I could be spared.
Two fighters rocketed out of the hangar, presumably to clear a route for the larger vessel, but they didn't stand a chance against the defense cannons that bracketed the doors—weapons the Naboo had put in to protect their ships, now operated by their enemies. Fortunately, the cruiser had been right behind the smaller craft, and we got out of range before the cannons could recalibrate for the larger target.
We left the atmosphere behind, and the first thing I noticed was that most of the Federation's ships had left. One of the remaining vessels likely housed the equipment that controlled their minions on the surface. We were far from safe, though, because dozens of fighter-like droids popped away from the hulls to pursue us. I headed for the cockpit, hoping I could help with the shields, the weapons, or something… as long as they didn't ask me to take the pilot's seat.
"…our communications are still jammed." Thank the Force, there was already someone at the helm. Kenobi was seated in front of shield and navigation displays, but there wasn't a weapons station. I winced, knowing that being unarmed made our escape even more hazardous. Qui-Gon was hovering, so I leaned against the side of the hatch and tried to keep from using the Force anywhere but within my own body.
A sudden thump and shiver accompanied what had to be a direct hit. Which meant that…
"We've lost power to the shield generator." At least it wasn't the generator itself; power lines could be spliced or rerouted. Obi-Wan sounded more nervous about the situation than I could muster energy for.
"Deploying droids," the pilot responded. "I hope they can do something, or we're done for." I closed my eyes, using my passive Force-senses to feel the repair droids.
Most of them were ordinary R2 and R5 model astromechs, but one of the R2s was significantly different. It almost had a Force-presence of its own, more like waves than ripples. I got a sensation of history and experience from it; for all I knew, it might not have had its memory wiped since it left the factory that built it.
One by one, the other droids were blasted away from the open maintenance panel on the outer hull. Then only the peculiar one remained, working rapidly. A few moments later, the ship's audible hum changed pitch.
"Power's back!" The pilot grinned broadly. "That little droid did it; he bypassed the main power supply! Deflector shield is now up, at maximum."
The cruiser accelerated rapidly, streaking past the last few droids. However, I began to detect a faint but familiar acrid reek.
"There's not enough power to get us to Coruscant." This came from the room's third station, which was probably maintenance and damage control. "The hyperdrive is leaking." That only confirmed what my nose had told me.
"We'll have to land somewhere to repair and refuel the ship." Qui-Gon leaned over his Padawan's shoulder to examine the star chart. I could think of only one nearby system that might have the parts we needed without being under the Trade Federation's control.
"Here, Master. Tatooine." I nodded to myself as Captain Panaka joined me at the door. "It's small, out of the way, poor… The Trade Federation has no presence there."
"How can you be sure?" The guard commander sounded rather pessimistic.
"Because it offers them nothing they're interested in," I answered slowly. "It's a Force-forsaken rock that only exports sand and nasty attitudes." And slaves. Master Sifo-Dyas and I had been given a mission there about fifteen years earlier. The number of slaves—roughly half the population—had made it so difficult to control my temper that Master had formally requested that the Council would not send me there by myself, at the very least, and preferably not at all.
So much for that.
"It's controlled by the Hutts," Master Jinn added.
"The Hutts?!" I'd no idea that dark-skinned humans could become as pale as Panaka did then.
"It's risky," Obi-Wan acknowledged, "but there's no alternative."
"You can't take Her Royal Highness there!" The captain continued to protest. "The Hutts are gangsters; if they discovered her…" He left the sentence hanging, as we could easily guess the outcome of that possibility.
"It would be no different than if we landed in a system controlled by the Federation, except that the Hutts aren't looking for her, which gives us an advantage." Panaka reluctantly conceded Qui-Gon's point, and Obi-Wan fed the information into the navicomp. The stars turned into streaks, then the whirling of hyperspace. We weren't going very fast, I knew, but we wouldn't be in transit long, either.
But before I could find a place to curl up and sleep, I was all but dragged to the Queen's audience chamber. I couldn't help being a little shocked that a ship this size actually had space for such a thing. Only three of the handmaidens, including the blue-eyed one, were present.
"An extremely well put-together little droid. Without a doubt, it saved the ship and our lives." Captain Panaka gestured toward a blue-and-white R2 unit that was filthy from its harrowing ordeal outside the hull. Now that I was closer, I felt even more certain that it had a history that it remembered and a personality of its own.
"It is to be commended," the Queen intoned. "What is its designation?" The guard commander leaned over to wipe part of the dome clean.
"R2-D2, Your Highness." The D2 meant that the droid could be as much as twenty years old. I would really like to get a chance to talk to the astromech.
"Thank you, Artoo-Deetoo. You have proven to be very loyal. Padmé," she added, looking at one of the handmaidens, "clean up this droid the best you can. It deserves our gratitude. Continue, Captain." Qui-Gon stepped in to explain where we were going and why, followed quickly by Panaka's disapproval.
"You must trust my judgment, Your Highness." A significant glance passed between Padmé and the Queen before the ordinary-looking girl led the droid away. Rather than stick around and risk falling asleep on my feet, I followed the pair.
In a multi-purpose area on the lower deck, I curled up in the curve of a sofa-like alcove as the young woman found some clean rags and started wiping the worst grime off of Artoo's otherwise-neat paint job. She talked to the astromech softly as she worked, and I started to drift off.
"Hidoe!" The unmistakable voice was accompanied by a brief scream and a series of indignant bleeps and whistles. "Sowwy, no meanen' ta skeer yousa." I threw an arm across my eyes in exasperation. The brief interlude without Jar Jar had been nice.
"That's all right," Padmé answered.
"My 'scovered oily back dere. Needen' it?"
"Thank you. This little guy is quite a mess."
"Meesa Jah Jah Binks."
"I'm Padmé, I attend Her Highness." I closed my eyes again, trying to ignore them all and get to sleep. "You're a Gungan, aren't you? How did you end up here, with us?"
"Me no know. Meesa day starten' pitty okie-day wit da brisky mornen' munchen'. Den, boom… getten' berry skeered, un grabbed dat Jedi, an' before meesa knowen' it, pow! Meesa hair. Getten' berry, berry skeered."
The sympathetic tweets of the astromech were the last thing I remembered.