Whispers of Menace
A Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace Alternate Universe
Chapter Seven:
Tatooine and Watto's Shop
I woke up abruptly, though fully rested, and for a very brief moment wondered what had changed. Then I realized that the Naboo cruiser's vibration had altered. It wouldn't have roused a human unless they were very in tune with machines, but between my Jedi training and the heightened senses my species had gained by evolving montrals, dropping out of hyperspace could wake me from a dead sleep unless it was something I had been expecting at a certain time. With that, I could 'tell' my body to ignore the stimulus, but the damage from the Trade Federation's droids made the chromed ship's speed rather unpredictable. So I got up, straightened my robes, and headed for the cockpit.
"That's it, Tatooine," Qui-Gon was saying when I entered. A yellow-brown globe grew in the viewscreen.
"There's a settlement." Obi-Wan pointed. "A spaceport, it looks like."
"Not a lot of those here," I added. Then I peered more closely at the screen. "That looks to be Mos Espa; that lighter-colored area to its east is the North Dune Sea. Probably the best place to find replacement parts that'll actually work." Master Jinn arched an eyebrow at me, and I muttered my personal opinion of the place. "Despite being two-thirds slaves." There was just one thing I truly hated, and that was the uncivilized practice of using other sentients as little more than beasts of burden.
"Land near the outskirts, but put a dune between the ship and the city," the Jedi Master instructed. "We don't want to attract attention."
Obi-Wan stood, allowing the pilot to take over, and he and I headed for the mechanical compartment. I shucked most of my clothing, getting down to the inner tunic and trousers before laying on the deck to look into the lower portion of the vessel's workings. From there, I could easily trace the long crack in the tank for hyperdrive fluid.
"Got a welder up there?" After a moment, a handheld model and a pair of protective goggles floated down to me. "Thanks." Now I could seal the tank up and knock one item off our shopping list. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it would hold at least long enough to get to Coruscant, maybe longer.
That done, I shifted my focus to the motivator and generator, and my spirits fell. Three-quarters of the delicate circuitry was so badly fried that I couldn't tell which charred lump was supposed to be a resistor, transistor, capacitor… And it was a Nubian J-type drive, though I wasn't sure which model, so it would be hideously expensive to replace. I hoped someone had a working one stashed in their used parts lot.
"Obi-Wan, sir, pleeeease, no meesa go!" I nearly banged my montrals on the bulkhead at Binks' wail.
"Sorry," the young human apologized, though he didn't sound it at all. "Qui-Gon's right. You'll make things less obvious."
Kriff. With Jar Jar's propensity for trouble, he'd make us more obvious. I crawled out of the access panel just in time to see the older Jedi walk in.
"The hyperdrive generator's gone," Kenobi told his Master. "We'll need a new one."
"Motivator, too. They're both half slagged," I added. The tall man nodded, then moved closer and spoke quietly.
"Don't let them send any transmissions," he ordered. "And be wary. I'm sensing that disturbance of yours, Serra." I suppressed a shudder. The increasingly frequent brushes of Dark Side energy against my shields made me feel utterly filthy.
"I've been feeling it as well, Master." Obi-Wan shot me a worried look, then arched an eyebrow. "Quartermasters aren't going to be terribly happy with you." I glanced down.
"Oh, for the love of the Light." Stains again. And few of the Jedi based out of the Great Temple on Coruscant wore colors. Blue was one of the rarest hues, and though gray trews weren't that uncommon, I usually wore coveralls when I planned on doing some mechanical work that could get messy. "Just… give me a few minutes."
Grumbling to myself, I collected the rest of my clothing and my rucksack, then got directions to a roomy 'fresher where I could change.
I emerged only to step back, avoiding a collision with Padmé and Captain Panaka, who were arguing fiercely.
"I'm going, Panaka, and that's final!"
"But what if—"
"I'll accompany Her Highness, if that will ease your mind, Captain," I offered. Their startled expressions confirmed that the visually unremarkable girl was the true Amidala. Then she smiled a bit smugly at her security chief, daring him to turn me down. Instead, the man sighed, shook his head, and turned away. Padmé and I headed for the boarding ramp.
"Master Jinn headed out five minutes ago. You're not going to disguise yourself, like he did?" I shook my head and started unwinding the soft gray cloth around my headtails.
"People expect Jedi to wear shades of brown," I explained. "But here, colors that don't blend into the terrain often indicate that the wearer is well-off, financially, politically, or both. And there's a sizeable transient population, so no one really notices your style of dress." Rather than tucking the long scarf into my bag, I wrapped it around my waist, mostly concealing my belt. "All I really need to do is keep my lightsabers out of sight. Besides, we match." She looked down at her own blue and gray ensemble and laughed.
"So you've been here before?"
"When I was twenty, on a mission. I don't mind the climate, my family's home on Shili isn't much cooler, but some of the denizens could try my patience easier than I can Force-lift a feather."
Catching sight of Qui-Gon, Binks, and R2-D2, we both jogged to join them. The Gungan wore his usual confused expression, but the human was clearly irritated. The droid, though, tweeted happily at us. Padmé lifted her chin as she met a blue stare.
"Her Highness wishes me to see more of this planet, so that Naboo might know more about its neighbors." She'd come up with an eminently reasonable argument.
"And I was asked to protect her, Master, so that you won't have to split your attention." He glowered, but sighed in resignation.
"I don't have time to argue, but this is not a good idea. Stay close to me." I looked at the other female and rolled my eyes once he'd turned back around.
"Dese suns doen' murdah ta da skin," Binks whined. He couldn't have been outside for more than fifteen minutes, though, so I mentally blamed at least part of my comrade's foul mood on the pathetic life-form.
As we walked, I began explaining more about Tatooine to Padmé. She soaked up the information like a dry sponge, then all but begged for more, and I found myself recounting some of my previous missions that, in hindsight, were amusing. The conversation made the lengthy walk into Mos Espa far more pleasant.
Then we were in the city proper, surrounded by a plethora of sentient species, speeders of all sorts, even rontos and dewbacks, the native muscle-power. The towering rontos were frequently under the very watchful eyes of their diminutive Jawa owners.
"Dissen berry, berry bad." The comment came from behind me, followed by a squishing sound that had me smothering a laugh; Jar Jar had stepped into a fresh dewback patty that the rest of us had avoided. "Ooooh… icky… icky… goo…"
The junk dealers' district was easy to find, and the discarded bits and pieces of equipment had my fingers itching. They just begged to be tinkered with, but we had more important things to do.
"We'll try one of the smaller dealers," our leader decided, turning to one storefront. Several hulls were visible behind the building.
The interior was not neat—few used parts shops are—but it was relatively organized. Several types of battered but apparently functional droid lined the walls, the smallest ones up on shelves. A pudgy blue Toydarian flapped up to us.
"[Whadda ya want?]" he asked in Huttese. I bristled at his rudeness.
"I need parts for a J-type 327 Nubian hyperdrive," Qui-Gon replied. So that was the model.
"Ah yes, ah yes. Nubian. We have lots of that. What kinda junk?" The shop owner's Basic was heavily accented and gruff. Then he looked over his shoulder. "[Boy, get in here! Now!]" His attention returned to Master Jinn.
"My droid here has a readout of what I need." Anything else he might have said was interrupted as a small human boy with disheveled hair the color of straw ran in. The kid was grimy, his clothes just about ready for the rag bin, and he halted immediately with a flinch when the Toydarian raised a hand in his direction.
"[What took you so long?]" the flier snapped.
"[I was cleaning the bin like you—]"
"[Never mind! Watch the store.]" I frowned. Between the shop owner's attitude and the boy's behavior, I suspected that the young human was a slave. Few free younglings his age—he couldn't be more than ten—would be working like this. "[I've got some selling to do here,]" the Toydarian continued. Then he returned his attention to his customer. "Sooo, let me take-a you out back. Ni, you'll find what you need." Master Jinn looked at me.
"If you find anything, I can come inspect it," I said distractedly. Something about the boy was tugging at me, and I wanted to stay inside and figure it out.
"Don't touch anything," the tall Jedi warned Jar Jar, taking something out of the klutz's hands and returning it to a shelf. Once he'd turned his back, though, Binks made a rude face at him. I reached over and flicked one of his long ears hard, making him jump.
"Behave." He frowned at my growl and sat, leaning against an empty patch of wall.
Then I noticed how intensely the boy's gaze had focused on Padmé. She blushed a bit under his scrutiny, but managed a smile. I opened my senses wide.
The Force swirled around the room, as strongly as I'd felt It in such a small space. Destiny was brewing before me; I had been guided here specifically for the youngling. Not one word had passed between us, yet I could feel a bond forming, similar to yet subtly different from the training bond I'd shared with my own Master. Nor was I the only one who had been drawn to him, because his connection to the young Queen-in-disguise could be cut with a vibro-knife.
"Are you an angel?" The question startled me almost as much as it did Padmé.
"What?"
"An angel. I've heard the deep-space pilots talk about them." Ah, now I knew what he meant. "They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe. They live on the moons of Iego, I think."
"You're a funny little boy," she replied, even more pink from the compliment. "How do you know so much?" He almost bristled at being labeled 'little,' but kept his cool.
"I listen to all the traders and star pilots who come through here." He paused, his vivid blue eyes alight. "I'm a pilot, you know, and someday I'm gonna fly away from this place."
~'Someday' is coming a lot sooner than you might have thought.~ I kept that well behind my shields, not wanting to frighten him if he could hear me.
"You're a pilot?" Padmé didn't seem to realize, as I did, that a Force-sensitive drawn to piloting would start learning to fly about the time he learned to walk. Of course, she probably had no idea he was Force-sensitive, either.
"Mm-hm. All my life," he replied casually.
"How long have you been here?" Now, maybe, I'd find out if my guess was right.
"Since I was very little. Three, I think. My mom and I were sold to Gardulla the Hutt, but she lost us, betting on the podraces, to Watto." Hutts. Of course the Hutts would be involved. They were only the most rapacious market for slaves in the galaxy.
"You're a slave?" The young woman sounded startled, but it was unlikely that she'd been exposed to the foul institution before now.
"I'm a person, and my name is Anakin." That sounded like bruised pride, and he had a right to be upset.
"I'm sorry," Padmé apologized immediately. "I don't fully understand." She looked around. "This is a strange world to me."
"You're a strange girl to me," Anakin retorted. A sudden banging and a long string of binary drew us all from the impending conflict.
Jar Jar hadn't been able to sit in one spot and keep his hands to himself. Now he held the saucer-shaped head of a little droid at arms' length as it struggled.
"Hit the nose!" It sounded like this sort of situation had occurred more than a few times and the boy had needed to tell people how to deactivate that model. When Binks obeyed, it curled up into a much smaller package.
"Can you not follow instructions?" I asked, sniping at the Gungan. "You were told not to touch anything. Now sit down and stay put." I pointed back to where he'd been before. I swore he flounced as he obeyed.
"So why isn't your mother tending the store?" Anakin shrugged at my polite inquiry.
"Mom doesn't know the first thing about parts. I may not be able to move a lot of it, but I know what's what."
"I can see why that's important," the girl commented.
"Yeah, well, we wouldn't have lasted long if I weren't so good at fixing things. I'm making my own droid…" The little blond trailed off as Qui-Gon and Watto returned, the Jedi obviously not happy.
"We're leaving," he snapped. Jar Jar was up immediately to follow him.
"I'm glad I met you, ah…" Ooops, she'd missed his name earlier.
"Anakin," he prompted, not upset in the least. "Anakin Skywalker." The Force buzzed through me, almost happy.
"Padmé Naberrie," the brunette responded with a little smile.
"And I'm Serra Ti," I told him with a wink and a hand on his shoulder. "We'll meet again." And then I joined the others outside.