The author wishes to express thanks to anyone who may read his story and encourages them to leave reviews, comments or even flame it hard. As with any who try their hand at publicly expressing an idea or story concept, all feedback is important and welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, SeaQuest nor any other sci-fi or fantasy series, movies, comics, cartoons or news items used in this fiction as they belong to the creators or broadcasters or publishers who put them out for consumption by the public.
My Many Thanks to .com for the many invaluable informations about the extended Star Wars Universe and the deep, rich history of the Galaxy, Republic, Jedi and Sith.
Calendars; I refuse to use the backwards-counting idiotic BBY / ABY notation so uselessly employed in the Star Wars Universe. On the sw wikia it says that around 20 calendars were used at the same time during the Old Republic and several ministries and service departments even had different calendars for no discernible reason. Given this idiocy, I have chosen to use the most standardized notation that I could find that made sense - The Ruusan Reformation. It is by no means perfect but at least allows to have a full millennium to move in without too much headache. Also, since a lot of the crapulence in the Jedi Order happens post-Ruusan because of the political maneuverings in the church by senators and chancellors, it makes more sense to use that point. Primordially though, it just didn't make any sense using a calendar based upon an event which may not even happen in the story as is the case with BBY notation.
ABSTRACT:
Fugitive teenager Anakin Skywalker will discover a damaged war-torn solar system, isolated and lonely in space at the very edge of the Galaxy, while traveling a legendary hyperspace lane through wildspace, in the Unknown Regions of the Galactic West. Having no choice but to commit emergency landing on one of the many ravaged planets in the derelict solar system, Ani will discover endless unnatural mutations and monsters, archeo-tech, savage humanoids bent on destroying or eating everything, and the ruins of several dead civilizations, still haunted by the forlorn ghosts of their makers and the strife that laid them to waste.
This story is Alternate Universe, most characters are OOC and there are several crossovers with many maritime or space themes and mythos. Lots of Force, psionics, magicks, alchemy et al as such things were part & parcel of Star Wars (EU/Legends), Warhammer 40K, Star Trek, Stargate, SCP Foundation (Web) and possibly others.
*** BASHING WARNING; Every religion, ecclesiaste, political movement and politos in sight, as well as communism, fascism and savage capitalism.
WARNING; the language level of this one is particularly trashy even when we consider a story based on starships, pirates, soldiers, law breakers and politicians enough to fill several Death Stars. However, as I always warn people who read my work: this language was pretty much normal in the school yard 40 years ago when I was a teenager. So, how can you have such a thin skin and be part of the same culture on the same continent if this is really that offensive to you? Where did you spend the last few decades, if you can't take a few hard words from the mouths of kids when these words have been around since before World War I?
PS; I like flames, they're fun to read so don't hesitate to write them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: In order to understand the basis of this story you need to know this about me: I hate, despise and scorn all forms of organized religions and cults, whatever shape or Creed they take. Likewise, I abhor and detest slavery in all forms, especially the 'faithful child-soldier' type so often used by pretty much every gang, cult or country too cheap to have a real army. Both works of George Lucas are based on the same premise: enslaving children in church-run armed services is good, and morally valid, if the Creed and Faith of the enslavers is 'the right one' and they (supposedly) treat the kids better than the birth parents (the cult claims) could or would. This deserves a good thorough debunking, among other things.
Star Wars 2022
FAR AWAY, IN THE DARK GRIMNESS
Chapter 1; Anakin's grimdark childhood in Hutt Space
Birthed into uncertainty
(Star Wars – The Jedi Temple theme)
Ruusan 959 (Anakin 0 years old)
Palace of Gardulla Besadii the Elder
Nar Shaddaa, capital city of Bilbousa
In the annals of Galactic history, the events of this day would pass as utterly unworthy of any notice, even by the most minutious of historians. A poor human woman named Shmi Skywalker, barely 22 years old and heavily pregnant, was brought before the Great and Mighty Gardulla the Hutt by a small group of pirates who owed the criminal boss money and favors. They had captured the poor soul during a raid of opportunity on a damaged freighter, the sole survivor of what had been discovered as a banal engine problem due to faulty maintenance from the ship's stingy crew. The few parcels of cargo salvaged had been sold, and the woman was now offered to the Hutt along some coin and the wreck of the freighter to pay a part of their debt.
The Hutt accepted the money & derelict ship, while the woman was immediately pressed into slavery in lieu of one of the favors owed. She was promptly chipped with the usual transponder/explosive biochip device the foul Hutt clans preferred, then she was dumped in the women's quarters where she was kept until she gave birth.
Barely three weeks had passed since her kidnapping that she gave birth to a healthy baby boy that she named Anakin Skywalker, in honor of her dead family of perpetual explorers, prospectors, navigators and merchants. She had not held the newborn child for more than an hour before the Hutt's enforcers chipped him, despite that he ran more than 75% chance of dying from the cruelly painful procedure. The boy survived the horrendous procedure that was accomplished without anesthetics, in spite of all his suffering and the jeers from his greatly amused tormentors.
And thus, the so-called Son of the Suns, erstwhile Savior of the Light-Side Jedi cult was born into a life of misery, poverty, degradation and strife, unlike few could understand, or believe that existed in this golden age of the Old Galactic Republic's preeminence.
Lost to Wattoo
(Star Wars – The Jedi Temple theme)
Ruusan 963 (Anakin 4 years old)
Palace of Gardulla Besadii the Elder
Nar Shaddaa, capital city of Bilbousa
There were many traits and atavisms in Hutt culture, which was surprisingly rich and varied, for a group of inveterate criminals, mafias, terrorists, warmongers and exploiters of suffering in all territories they lived in. Among the most pronounced of these were the Hutt's maladive compulsion for gambling and asking for Providence (Luck of the Draw) to make fatidic decisions for them, under the superstition that the most deserving individual would be the winner of the contest. This gregarious character of gambling on anything for any reason was endemic to Hutt culture, and almost forcibly transmitted to all their partners, be they clients, suppliers, victims, enemies, or just unfortunate neighbors on the next planet over.
And so it was that the malcontent, ill-lucked Toydarian junk peddler Wattoo was brought before Gardulla due to a debt he was contesting. The Toydarian refused to pay the drug pusher who sold him death-sticks because he was already drunk AND stoned-out at the moment of purchase, which allowed the pusher to sell him a smaller quantity than bartered, and the potency of the sticks was diluted as well. A quick verification of said pusher's stock showed that his merchandise was indeed diluted, but nowhere near as badly as Wattoo claimed. And nobody could attest that the flying slob had received any less than the ten death-sticks purchased, since the transaction was done in the toilets of a seedy cantina on Tatooine.
To settle the menial matter that he didn't want to waste an evening on, Gardulla offered to adjudicate the claim in the traditional manner; they would bet on a game of pure chance, and the winner would receive more than the initial debt's worth to demonstrate Providence's favor. Wattoo put his small junk shop as wager, which forced the Hutt lord to match the value for the bet to be fair. He chose the most useless slaves in his chattel, a woman and her small boy as well, since both had been beaten badly recently, to the point neither were able to work in the palace or brothels yet. As was his wont, Gardulla had loaned the woman to one of his bounty hunters as reward for a job well done, but the 4-year-old child had attacked the bastard when he got too rough with his mother, injuring her. The violent man's answer had been to beat the boy halfway to senselessness before raping him, then beating and raping his mother the same way, right in front of the boy's open eyes, forcing him to see everything. As the healers estimated the pair had another three weeks to recover before being useful, they could serve the Hutt as cheap betting tokens and not be a big loss if chance went sideways against him.
Wattoo accepted the terms and the game of Fate Cubes was rolled before all the criminals present in the vast hall, the seven tosses of the colored graven bone dice ending in favor of the poor, drunken shopkeeper. Wattoo left Nar Shaddaa with all his money, a few death sticks more, and the surprise acquisition of two -slightly worn- humans enslaved to his whims.
While he knew he would have to invest in healing their injuries, he also knew it would pay for itself later. Humans recovered quickly, and their kids grew fast, so the pair would be able to work in short order. In the meanwhile, he had enough droids to help him run the shop, so long as they weren't asked to think about complicated things beyond the basic price list and delivery dates. The trip back to Tatooine was uneventful, as was settling the two in the small, menial slave hut that Wattoo purchased by holonet during the return journey. The Toydarian had no intentions of tolerating humans anymore than absolutely necessary to get some work done, and earn a bit more profit to drink, snort and gamble away at his leisure's content.
Child-slave put to work
(Verdi, Il Trovatore – The Anvil Chorus, 1853)
Ruusan 964 (Anakin 5 years old)
Wattoo's junk shop
Tatooine; Mos-Espa city
It had been a year since Shmi and Anakin had been won by Wattoo, and things had unexpectedly become better for the forlorn pair of injured slaves.
Firstly, true to his slovenly, antisocial self, Wattoo had lodged the humans in a small dwelling that was located in the slave quarters of sand-blasted Mos-Espa, the city he lived in on planet Tatooine. The Skywalkers occupied the ground floor of a long row of flats that was three-levels high, with only thin external stairs devoid of banisters granting access to the upper floors and rounded roofs. As tenants of a street-level flat, they had less sunlight baking them alive during the daytime, and access to the shallow, unfinished basement to shelter when solar storms or gang fights hit the district more than usual.
Secondly, because Wattoo was VERY badly addicted to alcohol and drugs, he was sober & functional only one third of the time, thusly putting the management and customer relations of the small junk shop squarely on Shmi's shoulders. This meant that the woman had to come in early and leave passed sun-down most days of the week as she had to clean, sell, take repair orders, arrange deliveries, take inventory and do the day's accounting before she was officially done. Plus, once in a while, when he got lucky at the tables or somebody got killed in streets nearby, Wattoo would bring in new inventory that had to be ascertained, catalogued and fixed before being put on display for sale.
This excessive workload was good for the Skywalker pair because it gave the young mother the perfect argument to haggle for extra food and water rations, so she would be healthy and productive. Then she informed Wattoo that she would bring her infant son at work, to teach him basic chores along speaking & writing in several tongues, since she wasn't paid in money and couldn't afford a babysitter, not even a nursery droid. The drugged Toydarian agreed to the child's presence, so long as it didn't cost him anything and he didn't break stuff or scare away his customers. He laid out clearly the threat that he would recover any lost revenues out of their thin pink hides to both of them, by beating them for punishment and then by renting-out both of their injured, miserable bodies to earn back the lost monies. Thankfully, the misanthrope didn't seem prone to do more than threaten, but still, the angry vile pronouncement hung over the pair, making them careful and silent when their depur (master) was nearby.
The third improvement was that Shmi was an attentive mother and quite good at teaching her son, therefore Anakin quickly became a sort of quiet, unassuming child that didn't complain or make a wild mess, unless you insulted or hurt his mother. If that happened, people got injured or dead fast, and few dared to complain to Wattoo after witnessing the display of what an enraged 5-year-old prodigy of mechanics and computers could craft to ensure the safety of his only living family. The Toydarian did think of punishing the boy after he got the first complaint from a bleeding customer who was now missing his right arm from the elbow down, but then he examined closely what the human infant had built as weapon to protect his mother and saw the potential to easily make more money. Better yet, it would take almost no effort on his own part!
That then became the fourth improvement in the humans' lives, as Wattoo now took three hours every day just before closing-time to show the child more formal methods of problem solving and standardized techniques, using old holo-books from his own schooling. This meant that the miserly old druggy also taught the child both his native tongue and Galactic Basic as he didn't want to pay for a translation of the books, nor an updated version. Anakin was an attentive and hard-working student as he was actually quite happy with what he was learning. He had no chance whatsoever to attend a real school, since Hutt Law made it illegal for public institutions to accept registered slaves and his mom had no money to pay for private tutorship.
That was why Anakin was put to work in the shop full-time at the ripe old age of five, once Wattoo taught him enough to figure-out things on his own from now on. The old addict even agreed to upgrade his Holonet subscription to include educational channels when Anakin showed him that some of what they used as student homework or session projects could actually be used as permanent repairs for some of the older damaged or worn parts they were being commissioned to handle. With an increase in profits being a real possibility, the Toydarian made a few much-needed changes to the shop, like a new full-color Holonet terminal in his apartment so that he could off-load the old one into the shop's cybernetics workshop for the child's use. He allowed Anakin to repair and update the small toilet into a pair of wet-bath stalls that each held a toilet, sink and sonic/water shower head, and a laundry machine built-in between the stalls. This would allow the humans to be clean and presentable to clients instead of going to the paying public baths every two weeks, if Wattoo hadn't gone rogue with their food/hygiene allowance to buy drugs or gamble at the dice tables. Another thing the miser allowed was for Anakin to scrounge through all the accumulated scrap in the shop and backyard to begin assembling his own workbench & toolkit, to be more capable and efficient on the jobs the flying crone assigned him. Again, with a possibility of more work or money happening, the Toydarian was agreeable to the idea of the boy establishing himself comfortably and making a portion of the shop truly adapted to his small size and preferences.
So, from age 5 onwards, both Skywalkers would arrive at the shop just as the sun rose above the desert sands, work most of the day, and leave an hour after sun-down. On those many days that Wattoo was too drunk, drugged, or sickened from his ailing health that he couldn't pay to get fixed, the young mother could take the time to teach her child about manners, politeness, society and civility, Hutt Law, a small bit of Galactic history, management and accounting. As she was gifted in her knowledge of herbs and elixirs, she was also able to start showing him basic first-aid and survival skills about what to eat and how to prepare it to avoid being poisoned. For any big questions the boy had, she made him write a list that he would search on the Holonet when Wattoo was provenly comatose, or gone to waste more of his meager earnings and dwindling health on his vices. In fact, it was common for the Toydarian to be sick from his addictions for two or three days at a time, so they often had periods of calm, easy life in the small dingy shop, playing soft music from all over the galaxy while they worked or learned together.
A loving child's ingenuity
(Vivaldi, The Four Seasons – Spring, 1720)
Ruusan 966 (Anakin 7 years old)
Mos-Espa city
Planet Tatooine
For two years, Anakin toiled in relative quietude since his mother wasn't threatened with injuries, nor did Wattoo rent her body like other masters would normally do to earn easy money. For some reason, the Toydarian kept that possibility as the worse possible punishment hanging over their heads, but never enacted it. After what the pair had lived under Gardulla, they knew better than to commit open revolt, especially with the explosive biochip roving randomly inside their bodies.
Now, all was not rosey for Ani since Wattoo was not an angel of understanding or paragon of social graces. Born with little patience, having bad health from an old malady, and then his temper got worse because of the constant ups-&-downs of being addicted to several things, meant that the flying miser was always asocial, short-tempered, and borderline aggressive with everybody. While the crook-snouted being usually managed to stay barely civil with Shmi since she was so useful and profitable, he never hesitated to scold or slap the child if an urge happened.
Luckily, Anakin very quickly learned to hold back his more vitriolic answers, and then he realized that he could actually duck or dodge the Toydarian's hands without Wattoo being angered worse by the child escaping punishment. It appeared that Wattoo wasn't actually that interested in inflicting pain or injuries so much as getting the message into the boy's thick head that he wasn't listening enough, or made too much noise, or just to be quicker about finishing a job that had too little profit in it to waste time and tools. As he became more aware of his master's temper, moral limits, and expectations of what a good job entailed, the small human figured out how to push-back just enough to get a smidge of respect from the flying crone, instead of being viewed as a victim or waste of space.
By the age of six, Anakin managed to improve his relations with Wattoo by regularly going up to the old being's apartment to fix small problems with plumbing, electricity or network connections that he normally paid a contractor to come repair. As this could save several wupiupi (Hutt money equal to 0.625 Republic Credits) on each problem, the sickly crone was suddenly very happy he had upgraded the Holonet console in the workshop. His investment was paying back something like twenty times what it had cost, and getting better as the child got big enough to lift bigger parts or furniture. Not that it stopped the boy as he was wickedly adroit in ordering droids to help him with large physical tasks that he still managed to finish correctly.
Then, Anakin made another gesture to improve his standing with his master. During one of the few outings he did at the nearby food market to run errands for his mother who stayed at the shop, the child overheard people talking about emptying the house of an elderly woman who had just died. She had owned a medical droid to help her as she got older and sicker, but the model was an outdated Geriatric & Household Assistance unit that she'd purchased used and already obsolete as she wasn't rich. Anakin made a spur of the moment decision, offering the elderly brothers to purchase their antiquated droid, and anything in the house that could be used or salvaged. Thusly, Anakin was able to procure for Wattoo a nursing droid that was cheap but easy to repair & upgrade as it was mostly the original software that was too ancient, while the manipulators and solid tools were just as good as what was being sold new by the same manufacturer. This meant that the Toydarian's overall health dramatically improved over the following four months, and so did his temper and patience with his provenly valuable human slaves.
The other thing the small, but very profitable, deal did was convince the flying miser that Anakin had a nose for business and haggling, especially for finding other people's forgotten treasures that they were discarding as trash. Thusly, the old junker began to teach his youngest slave the value of things fresh from the factory, in a thrift shop, in a junk shop, or at a swap-meet between trash pickers. He also took him regularly on his rounds of the medical clinics, hotels, cantinas, race tracks, casinos and eventually the midden pits on the edges of town, to find good salvage directly from the sources to avoid paying middle-men or shop fees. As the child was beginning to show a decent eye for machinery parts and tools, the Toydarian soon focused on teaching him about industrial machines, manual & powered tools, processed materials, raw resources, and how fabrication of complex things happened. This led to teaching the child about vehicles in general, as a lot of their sales were due to people looking for spare parts to fix broken speeders or space ships, and sometimes even weaponry or booby traps for their stash of contraband.
By accident, this was how Anakin was introduced to pod racing, and the fine art of gambling on sports. And no, Shmi was not impressed, but could hardly complain as Wattoo's temper had become almost tolerable, even when he was only tipsy because he no longer needed to be passed-out drunk/stone since the medical droid had managed to completely cure his old painful ailment and mitigate the remaining symptoms into nothingness. However, Shmi did come to the agreement with her master that if he asked Anakin to place bets, or give his opinion on sports odds, then it was Wattoo who was responsible for the money winnings or losses, since he was both their master and the adult of the pair. Plus, it was his money being gambled, so he shouldn't be blaming the innocent child for his vices and bad luck when things turned sour, especially since he was keeping all the profits for himself when he won.
Changing tactic, the Toydarian tried to 'improve' his luck at the race tracks by offering the services of his mechanic, Anakin, for a smaller fee than usual, that way he'd know which vehicles were well built or in utter disrepair, thusly padding his knowledge before placing his bets. His mood now improved so much with the permanent curing of his illness that when he won a race, he rewarded Anakin with extra food rations or the permission to bring home some junk from the shop to make his own projects.
Just before he turned eight years old, Anakin gave his master an idea for more profit. Given how often Jabba the Hutt killed people, bits & bobs of used, damaged or defective stuff accumulated at a fast rate, so much that the janitors didn't know what to do with the pile except dump it in the desert a mile away from the palace, where the pickers went to scrounge through it. So, on Anakin's recommendation, the Toydarian offered to outright buy the monthly pile of crap, as long as it got delivered to his shop by the same guy who came to collect the property & sales taxes for the Hutt Cartel, to avoid extra costs for everybody. The floating miser was agog when the first drop-off happened, as it was easily four metric tons of materials, and included a lot that wasn't mechanical per se, since the janitors had put in anything that had to be removed before the corpses were fed to Jabba's pet rancor. While the beast routinely ripped off heads and arms, it was trained enough to avoid swallowing clothed limbs for fear of choking on a blocked throat, or having its gut slashed by sharp bits. After the last veterinarian bill had been paid, Jabba had given strict dietary orders to the beast-keepers, and so all the excess, unwanted clothing was in the same pile as tool-kits, med-kits, camping gear, weapons, luggage, and even parts of ships damaged when the bounty hunters captured people trying to dodge Hutt Law.
Wattoo was so amazed and flabbergasted by the turn of fortune that he officially put Anakin in charge of managing the pile of new resources, and 'paid' his promotion by telling him to choose up to one cubic foot of assorted materials each week from the pile, that he would look over and haggle about, just to keep on teaching the boy. On that first shipment, everybody in the shop got spoils to help improve their small menial lives.
They found a couple of small and traveler's sized med-kits still filled with the consumable drugs & bandages, so the shop's medical droid was re-equipped almost for free, thus improving the health of everybody. From this, Shmi gave Wattoo the idea of setting apart a small cot and shelves to receive paying patients for diagnostics and small procedures, as well as selling medicines that were pre-dosed in sealed packs. This could then be widened to include the drugs the Hutts sold, like death-sticks. The Toydarian was so impressed with the idea that he rewarded the human family by giving them the first go at the new 'cabinet' once it would be built, under the shop's front awning where the repulsor carriage was normally kept, and on his gracious expenses, no less!
A second idea from Anakin was to go all the way and modify the carriage with some cheap folding cots and a few brackets to hold med-kits and survival tool-kits. This improved system could see them have the ability to charge extra fees to bring assistance directly at the location of an accident or fight, and then bring the victims back to their new clinic, to complete the cures to charge the fullest prices they could ask. Wattoo was hesitant on that one, but the human child shrugged it off, replying "Just use a humanoid droid as driver & maneuver for the carriage, and helping get victims inside, with the medical unit being limited to just healing, to avoid being damaged. And add one of the spare sales terminals and antennae on the vehicle to make sure they get paid the moment the diagnostics is done." And so it was that Wattoo became the proud owner of the only ambulance service to operate in the slave district, junker's market, alien food market, and desert amateur pod-racing track of Mos-Espa, which quickly became quite profitable to the envy of many residents.
From that first pile of refuse, Wattoo was happy to get a much better automated food preparation machine, as he couldn't really cook to save his life. The moment the machine was cleaned and fixed-up, the trio brought it up to his flat, where he switched it from the ancient unit that suddenly got dumped on the Skywalkers, to bring home to replace their own almost useless unit. This would help Shmi with the evening meals only, as the slaves had gotten used to eating breakfast and lunch at the shop years ago.
Aside from that, Anakin had found small traveler's tool-kits that would help fix their slave appartement without costing Wattoo any money, so the flying miser was quite happy to see the child mix-&-match five partial pouches into one fully functional ensemble of tools and consumables like screws, nuts, bolts, wires, LED's and such. When the boy explained how many repairs he'd done to their dwelling at the end of the week, the amount was valued as the same cost as a brand new repulsor carriage, so the shopkeeper was quite happy with his recent management decisions.
In similar fashion, Anakin figured-out how to rebuild a functional miniature blaster pistol from discarded parts of multiple weapons, while at the same time (re)discovering the idea that a blaster cannon did not in fact need Tibanna or Vespene gas, nor Prometheum oil, to fire its bolt of particles. The fuel only added punching power to the shot, but a blaster could fire normally as long as it had enough electricity stored in its battery or capacitor. This meant that Anakin was then able to craft three small but reliable pocket blasters, one for each of Wattoo, Shmi and himself, to fend off thieves, aggressive clients, or people looking at Shmi weirdly. A not insignificant problem that began cropping up were the numbers of thugs upset that Wattoo was now earning more clean money from his endeavors, including selling drugs, tobaccoes & alcohols through his 'medical cabinet', rather than by gambling, and then he was also winning more often than losing since he had sobered-up after getting cured of his old ailment.
On a separate yet related issue, Shmi gave Wattoo the idea of letting her use the shop's laundry machines to wash the used clothing they were now getting every month, so that her son and her could have better garments when dealing with customers. She sweetened the deal by mentioning that once his servants had picked their share, the rest could be sold to the thrift store that specialized in clothing, only four streets away. Wattoo wasn't sure, but Anakin brought to his attention that he'd heard at market that the shop owned an old tailoring droid, so they would buy even the damaged articles, being able to fix them properly. And that shop was missing sales because they were chronically low on inventory. These would be small monthly sales, but over a year, it could add up nicely, and the Toydarian did love the sound of golden wupiupi coins tinkling in his till-drawer.
Gift to mother; C-3P0
(Star Wars – main theme)
Ruusan 967 (Anakin 8 years old)
Mos-Espa city
Planet Tatooine
It had taken Anakin two whole years to accumulate the skills and experience necessary to do more than upgrade software or swap parts on an existing droid frame. Now, he was actively scrounging for parts & tools to assemble a brand-new unit, to help his wary mother with household chores, especially cleaning the dwelling and carrying their bags of laundry to the shop and back home. She was working long hours at the shop, and so was he, which meant that house-cleaning often waited several days before either of them felt like putting an effort in it. Plus the fact his bedroom now looked like the junior version of Wattoo's shop, much to the poor woman's amused despair of ever having an orderly home in this life.
Then Ani's luck turned good once again, and while Wattoo was there to see it, too! The young child was accompanying his master on a trip to the general open-air market since it was that time of the month when cantinas and inns dropped their heavy trash in the communal midden in the middle of the slave district. Wattoo had imagined that if he moved between the boutiques in the early morning, before the sun rose, he could pick the trash pallets directly instead of waiting at the pit, lost in the gaggle of competing menials.
It was that fateful morning that the Toydarian found behind a cheap inn a hover-skid being filled with old room fittings, kitchen appliances and broken droids. Apparently, the cantina had suffered a bounty-hunter fight two days back and the owner was stuck stripping most of the ground level and first floor to repair things back to usability. Who the kreth fights a Mandalorian warrior inside a building, anyways? And the damned mando had used his flamethrower like a shower hose! He'd sprayed fiery oil all over the counters, walk-in fridges and the cash register too! The inn proprietor was quite happy to let Wattoo take everything in bulk, as it saved him the effort & time of at least two trips to the midden pits while the renovations were just beginning in the eating hall of the establishment and public toilets.
It was in that mass of stuff, nearly five metric tons of refuse, that Anakin found his trophy; the base frame & circuits of C-3PO.
Initially, the poor droid was clearly not usable. Wattoo laughed when Anakin claimed the thing as his prize of the week, given that the ancient protocol droid had no external shell, no optical receptors, no vocalizer module, no hands, and a quarter of the circuitry was missing. Quite unafraid of hard work and scrounging for parts, the child took his prize home and began to clean it, repair what was present, and list what was missing, plus what he wanted upgraded anyways. There were however two basic components remaining that made the job much easier: the hard-drive with all its programs & user data, and the motion hydraulics which were a pain to craft from raw resources. The rest would be just plug-&-fit parts then using the Holonet to run software update routines.
Anakin was happy with his personal project, since Cybot Galactica was one of the biggest and most prolific manufacturers of protocol or humanoid droids in the whole known galaxy. Also, unknown to people who didn't earn a living by fixing droids, many of the internal components of Cybot droids were the exact same as in regular household appliances or office machines, because the company cut costs by buying pre-made generic parts in bulk. Thusly, Anakin was able to find and acquire what he needed at a fair clip, without needing to travel out of his district, nor spending any money, as he was dirt-broke anyways.
In the middle of his eighth year of life, the human slave-child experienced two very important events.
Firstly, he completed the build and activation of C-3PO for his mother, although the bot's prissy, snobby attitude was as much of a headache as a running gag. But the fact it could use six million different forms of communications covering as many cultural groups meant that it would immediately be useful anywhere, including the shop. That usefulness was even better as Anakin had managed to program it with several household cleanliness & maintenance routines, near-human health evaluation & support programs, and a bevvy of commercial, managerial, accounting and customer services programs that normally cost a fortune when bought new from their makers. This meant that on top of being another pair of arms to lift or clean, he also served Shmi as a clerk-assistant to take inventory and close the day's registers faster, so everybody now ended their days exactly at sundown instead of almost two hours past.
Secondly, Anakin was able to compete in his first pod race because Wattoo had just found a battered old racing pod in the basement, which was a complicated story.
Cuz, yeah…
The shop had a basement…
A big huge one, in fact…
You see, Wattoo had been drunk & stone for so long as a way to medicate the pain of his illness that he had experienced perceptual and awareness problems for nearly a decade and a half before meeting the Skywalkers. In that period of time, he had forgotten many things, including the fact that his small, dingy shop had a fully functional basement with an outdoor access and a loading bay, in the backyard where most of the large pieces were kept. The two humans had never known about it because the outside access was blocked by a long hover-skid that had rested there for nearly a decade, and the internal access was done via the cargo lift which also served as pass-through corridor to go outside by the garage doors, but was blocked by a haphazard pile of junk that had been accumulating for fifteen years and was seldom searched for things. It was when Anakin was repairing the electrical services in the upstairs apartment and needed access to the main breaker panel that he saw the cargo sized door in the spare bedroom where the utilities arrived from the city grid, or the rooftop antennae & solar arrays.
Wattoo was both flabbergasted and shameful at having forgotten a good one-third of his building and shop, an edifice he had owned for nearly forty years at that point. With the amused young human's eager help, the electrical system was repaired, and then they worked on opening the rusted doorway to the elevator shaft. From there, it was easy to drop one floor to go open the ground level, and scare an entire life out of poor Shmi at the same time, when they opened the hidden cargo door, while she was looking at the pile of molding junk and trying to figure a way of turning a wupiupi out of it all. After a good laugh and deciding to clean-out the useless pile with the hover-skid, the mismatched pair descended to the basement, where Anakin found a veritable trove of… spider webs and vermin droppings.
Thankfully, it had been so long since anybody did anything in the place that even the vermin had moved out and any organic spoor was actually desiccated and odorless by now. Unlike the ground floor and outside loading dock, the rooms under were nearly clean and semi-ordered, practically ready to use anew. This was an especially good news, given that Wattoo showed Anakin the combination heating furnace / forge / trash burner he had built when he bought the building, four decades back. The device was cold, not having worked in almost nineteen years, but clean and the pipes hadn't clogged as the machinery had been shuttered during the hot season of the year, when forge-work was just asking for heat stroke, even at night.
It took some effort to sift through the pile of junk inside the basement to triage the recuperable versus the true trash to dump, but working at four, with all organics and C-3PO, they only needed about a week thus netting several pieces of metal to melt and some clothes to clean for sale. In contrast, it took a major effort to shift pallets and ship parts around the backyard to make a nest for the long skid so that the outside loading ramp was accessible freely again. On the other hand, Anakin judged that the contents of five of these skids should just be cleaned-up and sold on the Holonet instead of waiting around for a miracle traveler to happen by, so that problem also kinda solved itself along the way of better organizing the ancient shop.
It was thus that as they cleaned the basement for daily usage, especially the employee kitchenette and toilet that Wattoo had completely forgotten about having, that they found the old racing pod Watto had accepted in lieu of payment on a gambling debt some noob had owed him, way back then. Since the pod was actually built for a humanoid species half the size of humans, the wrinkled old miser saw a chance at easy profit in having it race again. So, the Toydarian spent several hours teaching Anakin to fly land vehicles of diverse sorts, including the shop's hover-skid and repulsor carriage used in delivering parts or getting Wattoo to the race tracks and gaming houses. After fixing the battered old pod and training Ani specifically on its usage, they registered the boy in a small neighborhood contest between children & teenaged slaves, which he won easily. After that, the boy raced almost every week, having discovered himself to be a speed junkie almost as bad as Wattoo, much to Shmi's eternal motherly chagrin. Although, the woman quickly took stock of her son's rare performances, so she started to discretely place small bets with the neighbors, earning small favors or a bit of loose change, which she silently hid away for emergencies.
Given how good at racing Anakin was, Wattoo registered him in a few 'amateur' races happening at the Hutt tracks outside of the official major events when the 'nobility' of Tatooine would be present. These races were actually serious business, as they were how the bulk of professional racers made a living all year long, since only three or four truly exceptional persons could win the Boonta Eve Classic and other high-reward, heavily mediatized events. The races Anakin was entered in did appear on the Holonet, but normally only people on Tatooine or those truly addicted to pod racing would bother to watch them. Much to the delight of humans and Toydarian alike, Ani's winning streak maintained, although with effort, practice, and good maintenance on the small, used-up pod supplied by Wattoo.
Just in the month before his ninth lifeday happened, Anakin was lucky enough that Wattoo won a bet against the manager of the competing racer, not only because Ani won the race for the cash purse, but also because the Trandoshan driver had an accident and died on the track. So, to honor his debt, the losing manager gave-up the wrecked pod and the contents of the dead man's locker as he had no family, which the old junker accepted with a smile. His young pilot now had a professional pod, it just needed some TLC and upgrades, something Anakin wouldn't need any prodding to provide the moment the load was back at the shop. The upper-caliber pod would mean that competitors took them more seriously, and that gamblers would be more likely to take higher bets with Wattoo because the machine's quality showed his riches and ability to pay, even if it meant selling the pod.
Jedi monks, Naboo blockade and Tatooine pit-stop
(Star Wars – main theme)
Ruusan 968 (Anakin 9 years old)
Multiple zones
Planets Naboo & Tatooine
The Republic Security's consular-class cruiser had barely been parked in the Trade Federation's Lucrehulk-class droid command ship that it was destroyed with all hands aboard, while the Jedi monks were being assaulted by Droideka destroyer droids and generic B1 infantry droids. The two Jedi managed to escape the carrier by stowing aboard an automated battle-droid transport barge that was going down to the surface of Naboo to reinforce the occupation forces.
Once on the planet, the master – padawan pair had several problems to solve before finally obtaining contact with her majesty, Amidala, queen-elect of the Naboovian humans. A monarch who also happened to be a fourteen years old human girl, elected by popular vote from one of the hundred-odd 'royal' families in their culture, less than half a year earlier. The badly surprised Jedis then had the headache of getting said monarch off the planet and to the Republic's capital world of Coruscant, so that she could address the Galactic Senate about the illegal blockade, thefts, extortions, pillaging of natural resources, and killing of citizens, done by the Trade Federation. Except that the girl insisted on traveling not like a beggar-monk Jedi-style, but with her royal entourage of six handmaiden defenders, six Naboo guardsmen, a gaggle of service droids, and use the most visually declarative starship in the hangars, the royal J-type 327 cruiser named Chromilluxian, called so because it was plated in shiny golden chromium alloy that could be seen from hundreds of kilometers away with naked eyes due to how reflective it was.
As was usually the problem with Jedi missions, everything went-to-pot the moment they lifted off the planet. The Jedi master Qui-Gon Jinn had intended to use the Hyperspace lane known as the Enarc Run towards the west, then use the Hydian Way northward until they could turn west on the Perlimian Trade Route to reach Coruscant. Instead, to avoid the TF interceptors blocking the way out of the system, they had to shift to the alternate route, using the Enarc Run southward to reach the Triellus Trade Run, then turn east until they could turn north at the Corellian Run which would carry them directly to Coruscant.
Except their escape craft was hunted and damaged by a group of droid fighters that could have easily been shot-down, if the ship had weapons on it. Because - why not? - make a diplomatic ship utterly devoid of armaments, clad it in shoot-me chromium, and send it out against a planet-wide blockade composed of unthinking, unfeeling droids programmed to intercept anything with violence until it stopped moving. However, the Jedi had not been warned when they were corralled aboard the ship for their hurried escape from the TF droids stalking them in the palace corridors, so they got that particularly nasty surprise as the orbital blockade was tearing apart their high-luxury but flimsy means of egress.
Hence, why the group was forced to stop aground on the Force-forsaken planet of Tatooine, to make emergency repairs to the shot-out hyperdrive core, otherwise they only had sublight engines and repulsors left for mobility. The landing was somewhat smooth, mostly because the queen had her usual professional pilot Ric Olié at the helm, instead of the Jedi monks which counted only as bush pilots in the best of days.
{ SW } - { Tatooine – realities of crass } - { SW }
Once upon the sandy, windswept, barren landscape of Tatooine, the senior Jedi knight Qui-Gon Jinn left the ship to find spare parts, being escorted by a small entourage composed of the Gungan emissary Jar Jar Binks, a handmaiden as representative of queen Amidala, and the astromech droid R2D2 who would analyze and validate the parts for purchase, as the members of the group had little mechanical expertise.
Soon, the mismatched and only partially competent group of escapees was trudging its way through the sandy, unpaved streets of Mos-Espa, the biggest and most industrialized city on the planet, which really said a lot about the sand-ball. Not fully educated nor fully civilized it would seem, the imbecilic Gungan let his long prehensile tongue out to 'capture' some food off a vendor's hibachi, but without asking permission. Nor did the cretin have any sort of money to pay, thus making him a thief in a culture where everybody was armed and carried out justice by their own means and will.
Because - of course! - you go off-planet and you don't bring any money or tradables with you, aaand you steal stuff in broad daylight, right under the eyes of the seller and his dozen customers, seated on the terrasse. Things got far worse when the client who had grabbed Jar Jar Binks' tongue in the act began to rain blows on his head with two of his remaining limbs. As padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi yet again berated his master in hushed, aggressive whispers about hoarding every crapulent piece of semi-sentience he tripped on, an event occurred to stop the rabid merchant from killing the Gungan fool and his companions.
A small human boy, not ten years old if the travelers' eyes still served them well, arrived at the dirty terrasse on a large hover-skid to drop-off a delivery of machinery parts. Immediately he began a low-key heated exchange with the angry thuggish Dug who was currently holding Jar Jar Binks' tongue as a leash to keep him in place while administering a sound beating around his face. The child seemed darkly amused at the sheer idiocy displayed by the foreign group, and made it clear without qualms.
"Oi! Sebulba, you sleemo! Are you trying to get injured before the race, so you can claim you didn't lose to me cuz you were in the bleachers holding your weakness with all four hands? That'll be an easy win, then! I could sleep in the pod and let the auto-pilot run the tracks for me!"
Letting go of the Gungan's bruised, oily wet limb, the Dug concentrated on haranguing the human with multiple threats and a small vibro-knife to make himself look more menacing. The boy countered by pulling out a miniature blaster pistol from his loose shirt, aiming right between the angry alien's eyes and noisily removing the safety so the weapon could fire. With the obviously not-afraid kid taking down his pride and bravado in one move, the Dug tetched and growled as he gathered his things and left the foreigners to clean their mess with the merchant, who still wanted his money for the stolen food.
Finally paying attention to the voyagers, Anakin Skywalkers eyed them critically with so much disapproval that he made the two Jedi monks feel as if they were back in the council chambers, about to be disciplined by Mace Windu for yet another 'unorthodox' decision or activity during mission.
(Back on Coruscant, master Windu suddenly felt a satisfying wave of validation echo through the Force, aimed at himself.)
After letting the dumb foreigners squirm for a long, uncomfortable minute, Anakin declared tartly "You know that amphibian meat your friend just took without permission costs about 7 wupiupi each? That's like the cost of 7 daily-meals kits for a regular size person. It's also the cost of a bottle of cheap Corellian wine, if you don't care the provenance. Now, how are you gonna pay that merchant? Cuz, from where I'm standing, he has every right to cut that guy's tongue to replace the meat he's been thieved of."
Everybody ignored the cowardly, whining Gungan who had quickly hidden behind the group to escape the rabid restauranteur, while Jedi knight Jinn tried to placate him, mostly by using a mind-trick to dull his emotions, senses and reasoning. Feeling immense relief that the small Force effect worked on the reptilian alien, Qui-Gon Jinn smirked condescendingly as he negotiated the price down to half. The old human Jedi then faked passing money from his empty hand, covered by his long robe sleeve, to the stupefied merchant who went back to his hibachi and roasting meats, without realizing he'd been conned. When Qui-Gon Jinn turned back to address the young boy, he was surprised to see the child glaring at him angrily, arms crossed and the small blaster tapping a nasty rhythm on his left upper arm, in synch with the child's radiant disapproval.
"So, Jedi are bloody thieves and con-men, just like everybody says…" Anakin grumbled lowly but not bothering to hide his displeasure. "It figures that your kind would end-up on Tatooine. All the crap in the Multiverse always arrives here at some point, and we poor slaves have to clean it off the sand, like always."
"What do you mean, slave?!" immediately questioned the adolescent handmaiden as she finally moved from behind the group to approach the armed, ill-tempered child. "Slavery is outlawed in all Republic territories!" the girl emoted, quite aghast at what she heard.
Shrugging that away like more sand in the desert, Anakin countered tartly "Well, missy, you ain't in the Republic, are you? This is Hutt space, even if your pretty maps don't show it that way. Everybody answers to Jabba Desilijic Tiuré, and he answers to the Hutt cartels' council in city Nar Shaddaa on the planet Bilbousa. Nobody here cares about Coruscant, mostly cuz the only time the Republic cares about us is when they wanna send a tax collector, but then never give any help in return. 'Sides, we haven't been part of the Republic since three millennia ago, so there."
Quite amazed at the young child's intelligence and capacity to speak so well in Galactic Basic for a provincial menial, the girl asked more carefully but still in a patronizing manner that was annoying, for all that it was accidental. "What do you do in this horrid city, that you know so much about trade and have so strong opinions?"
Shrugging again, Anakin explained "I'm a slave. I was born that way cuz my mom was bound to Gardulla. The Hutt lost a bet to Wattoo, so he brought us to his shop. Spent the last five years of my life here, working for him. I'm a mechanic, an engineer, a cyberneticist and a speeder pilot. I can also make some chemicals, if you need fuel, munitions, or to refill a medical droid's canisters."
The poor handmaiden was dumbstruck by the child's life-story, and the circumstances of his life. She had never been to many places outside of Naboo, and that was mostly to Coruscant to accept her Senate seat, or to planet Alderaan which had wealth and high-Republic culture similar to her world.
Qui-Gon Jinn however, had not at all paid attention to the boy's enslavement, birth or life. Instead, he focused on the immediate solution to their problem; the child was a mechanic who worked in an engine shop, so he may have the parts the TF droids had shot-out during their escape. "Excuse me, child," asked the Jedi knight, in a tone of voice that was incredibly condescending, even if it was simply the way of Masters to address any child aged to be a Temple initiate. To the surprise of only Jinn himself, his approach backfired.
"S'cuse you, too, old crud! The lady and me were talking! Wait your turn!" the boy replied, fuming at having the only bit of polite company he had all year being pushed aside by the wrinkled, bearded old thief. Turning back to the handmaiden, Anakin asked tartly "Is he always this way, or just with you? Cuz he don't look like he cares much for you…"
Padmé Naberrie, queen Amidala disguised as a household servant, had to bite her lower lip to avoid laughing aloud at the precocious boy's attempt to shield her from the big bad Jedi monk who was shadowing her honor. It was sooo cute! And he had dimples when he frowned!
"No, he's just upset today because our ship was shot at, and we have damages. It's a Naboo ship. Do you know anybody who has parts for that sort of technology on Tatooine?" Padmé asked, since there was no loss is asking the locally raised child.
Scratching his head of wild blond hair, Anakin replied probingly "Are you talking Nubian Design Collective general specs, or Theed Palace Spacecorps? Cuz those are a pain-and-a-half to get ahold of. We sold our last Nubian parts last year, by Holonet, but there's bound to be a few floating around. Lots a rich folks wann'em for the style. The real mechs wann'em for the toughness, and the fuel efficiency. What's your reason?" the child queried with squinted eyes, as he looked over the horizon, to the desert.
Smiling pleasantly, Padmé replied "The whole ship is Nubian, and it's Theed Palace crafted, if that helps. The R2 unit with us has the specs on the parts we need, if you could look at them?"
Nodding, Anakin declared "I have to finish delivering these parts to Hr'lonash, then I'll be with you. Just wait in the shade so you don't bake alive. And for Ekkreth's sake, keep that fool thief's tongue in his mouth, or I'll cut it myself! People have started firefights in the streets for less than stealing food, and everybody in the district is dirt poor, so they take to theft even less."
The boy unlocked the trunk of his hover-skid, retrieving three small thermoplastic packs that he lugged around like a pro, using an elbow to shut the trunk as he walked toward the same food vendor that Jar Jar Binks had aggrieved. It only took five minutes for the child to complete his transaction, including passing the customer's credit card on the small handheld terminal, then come back to his large & slow vehicle.
"Okay, noobs! I'll take you to the shop, that way we can scan over the planet-wide trade web to see who has parts for you. And what it'll cost to get them here, and installed properly. Nothing's cheap on Tatooine, but if you have coin or a credit card, it'll get done the way you want." Then, eyeing Qui-Gon Jinn nastily again, he threw out venomously "But I'm sure you'll understand if my master wants to see your money and take the amount before doing any work? After all, people in your vicinity tend to forget how to live in polite society, so to speak…"
Giving Jinn a nasty look of his own, padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi gave the child his fakest earnest-tourist smile and agreed for the group, both to avoid a scandal in the middle of the street and to get anywhere that wasn't under the bloody binary suns currently trying to melt them down to oily organic goop. Any further unpleasantness could be handled discretely in a closed setting.
Frowning mightily at the nineteen-year-old padawan in response to his obviously faked civility, Anakin activated his skid, turning around to lead the odd-ball group towards the old junk shop – slash – medical cabinet.
{ SW } - { No money, no parts, big poodoo } - { SW }
Wattoo was less than impressed when he saw the group of foreigners enter his dusty, dingy shop. All of Shmi's efforts over the years had done almost nothing to render the place more agreeable to the eyes, as the bloody sand just kept coming back in, the moment the door was opened. At least, the smell of dankness and organic waste had finally gone, after three years of washing, scrubbing and sanitizing, thanks to the judicious advice from the medical and protocol droids combined. Still, it was one of the better shops on the street, if not the district, and everybody who lived locally knew it.
So, when Wattoo saw the scrunched noses and disbelieving stares in the faces of the three human travelers, he felt justly upset at their snobby lack of appreciation for the efforts everybody in his little family had put in making their shop livable. And yes, they were his family, despite the different species and slavery issues. He had no living relatives, and nobody else to leave things to when he died, so the Skywalkers were his family, even if he never said it aloud because he had begun feeling ashamed of how he exploited them for so long, in the last year.
"My name is Wattoo, I'm the owner," the Toydarian stated gruffly, "What do you need? Machinery or medical?" And wasn't it still a blast, to ask that question to his customers, despite that it was almost two years since that change to the shop had been made.
Looking over the 'medical cabinet' wearily, Qui-Gon Jinn replied politely but in a slightly snide tone that he just couldn't seem to remove from his demeanor when speaking to non-humans, or very young entities, or basically anyone not a Jedi ranked at Knight or above. "We have a Nubian vessel with weapons damages to the hyperdrive and subsystems. The droid has the specs, if you could look them over? The boy said you could possibly find the parts on a 'trade web' on this planet?"
Shrugging, Wattoo countered carefully "Ani's not wrong, most of the time. But, there's been a certain lack of trade from Naboo in the past three months, ship parts and industrial machinery being the hardest to find. Still, they're popular enough that if you don't mind a few things that are dated or used, it can be found. Cuz, mind yous, the new stuff isn't on hand. We'd have to order that, and the idiots in the Trade Federation aren't letting any trade out of the Naboo system anymore, so nothing new for a while."
The fake-handmaiden declared "We are aware that what is available is used or re-milled. But, we have a necessity to get off this planet to reach Coruscant quickly, so it will do. So long as it's the good parts, and they work as promised."
Anakin chose that moment to return with a small glass of clean water and a tin box covered in enameled drawings. "Your pills, Wattoo! Don't forget 'em or mom'll sic the medic droid on you again! Oh, and that one's a Jedi monk. He pays in advance, no matter how charming an ass-kisser he tries to be."
Jinn could only look at the boy in amazed outrage that he had simply destroyed any chance to skive-off some free stuff with his Force Persuasion skills, while the rest of the group wanted to melt into the floor from sheer shame at being associated with the disreputable man. Kenobi made an effort to school his features to neutral as he asked drably "Was that truly necessary? We are customers, after all."
Snorting, Watto countered blithely "No boyo, you ain't customers 'till the money be in my till. Then, you can act offended, if you can afford to pay for our patience to listen to your poor woe-is-me act, that is. We ain't no charity, so if you want anything, including time or attention…"
A series of bleeps and whistles from R2D2 attracted attention to the droid as he decided to cut short to all the organic nonsense by plugging into the counter's sales & catalogue display to show what they needed to continue their trip.
"Ah! Nubian J-type drives! A spacer's dream engines, those are…" Wattoo emoted at the sight of the Royal Yacht design.
Anakin snorted, muttering "Stupid fools make a glitzy boat and don't put any guns on her! Is it any surprise they got shot?"
Shmi tutted in mild motherly reprove at her son's crudeness, but internally thought the same thing. If you made a thing too beautiful, glamourous or rich, then you should also prepare to defend it from all the envious bastards who would be sure to try and steal or destroy it out of jealousy.
The handmaiden declared in a solemn tone that was surprising in such a young girl "It is the Royal Yacht of the Naboo throne, and must embody peace and serenity, just as the monarchy does. As a ship of peaceful diplomacy and negotiations, arming it would have been hypocritical, as well as a declaration of hostility to whomever it met for parley."
The three Tatooine residents gave the girl a synchronous flat stare, with Anakin stating blithely "I'm nine years old and I know that you don't send a ship that luxurious out of the hangar without some defenses on it. What's your great king's excuse for not knowing that, being a great and mighty adult from a really advanced world, and all?"
Utterly stomped, Padmé stood silently as the child turned towards the R2 droid, gesturing at the white plastic-clad protocol unit to come join the conversation. Then the boy began to speak in Binharic with the two machines, and without using a translator or vocabulator! Quickly, the trio found the parts needed and arranged shipment to Wattoo's shop. Walking back to the group of weary travelers, Anakin handed a datapad to his master and pointed the details of the transaction with the other merchant, in the other town across Jabba's desert.
Flapping his wings idly, the junker handed the pad to the handmaiden, since she was the representative of the queen, and it was the Nubian monarch footing the bill for everything. "As you can see, you lucked out! Another recycler in Tas-Dota has a J-type hyperdrive in stock, and it has all the parts you need. The problem being he wants to sell the whole thing, not just pieces. So, you'll have to pay for at least half the thing's worth. I'll pay the balance, and find a way to sell the loose parts elsewhere. After that, do you want delivery to your ship, or help with installation? Cuz we offer that, too. Ani's pretty damn good at fixing machines."
Looking at the prices and calculating their value in her head from memory, Padmé had to admit that the trader hadn't fleeced them like she thought he would. He was taking a lot of risk in buying an entire engine block just for the dozen parts they needed, so asking for half the value instead of the whole price was a lot fairer than she had believed he would charge. Deciding the course of action, the young girl declared "We would need the parts delivered and installed. At least, your mechanic can assist our own and make sure nothing goes wrong with the job. And if we are missing things, he can find them and order them faster than if we go back & forth between the ship and your shop."
Wattoo agreed easily enough, tallying the price and pointing at the terminal for the girl to process the first payment. "I'm asking for the money on the engine block ahead, all the services get paid after the job's done. Agreed?"
Nodding absently, Padmé simply replied "As long as I get the transaction files in my comm to show my queen, it'll do fine." Then she passed her credit card over the sales terminal, tapping her foot as she waited for the infernally slow machine to process the amount.
Only for the bloody machine to flash red lights, emitting a nasty deep sound along a vibration that rattled the whole counter.
"What? How can it be refused?" Padmé asked, aghast at the turn of events. "These are the Royal Palace accounts! They're held by a bank off-world, away from Naboo! Nobody should be able to block my access!"
Approaching slowly because angry people tended to get violent, Anakin asked gently "What bank are you in? Maybe I can check the connection codes. Sometimes, the relays around Tatooine aren't good at keeping synchronous with the rest of the networks out of our solar system. Especially since we got reeeally old satellites."
Getting permission, the young boy took over the terminal, activating the maintenance mode to be sure of his facts. Upon seeing that the machine's signal was clear and strong, he then turned to the data being transited, and saw the problem immediately. "Well, this is awkward… Your money's there, but it isn't yours anymore. This main account and its branches were put into an escrow protocol, pending transfer to another owner, since about six hours ago. And I can even see why, cuz they have management notes appended to the merchant-security interface."
Looking up at the anxious teenaged girl, the child explained "When the Trade Federation lost track of your escaping ship, they petitioned the Muun Banking Clan where your accounts are located to freeze them, until your queen could sign the Abdication Treaty. Because the invasion and blockade are illegal, the Clan refused to outright give them the money. But, since they're partners and the Clan is actually a stockholder in several TF companies, they used the middle-ground measure of putting it all in escrow, until your queen's captured or the war fails. Either way, the Banking Clan is following Republic Law, so they say they can't be sued or attacked by anybody."
Padmé felt faint all a sudden, and gratefully accepted the small step-stool that Ani pushed towards her to sit on. Taking a few breaths to steady herself, the girl asked "Can I verify if my personal account is still available? Maybe I can do something through that."
Anakin shook his head negatively, replying sadly "I already checked; all the accounts of all government levels, companies and civilians from Naboo were put in escrow the same way, at the same time. The internal memo says it all stays frozen until resolution of the conflict, or a judgment by Republic Courts directly against the Muun Banking Clan involved."
"Stang!" the girl swore, as she kicked the wooden counter, frowning in thought for a solution.
"Whelp, that's a booboo, right there, girly!" Wattoo opined from his chair. Gesturing idly at the terminal, he declared neutrally "No money means no parts. I'm not a rich man, child. I can't just give things away. Especially not an engine block. If I could do that, I would have left Tatooine's cruddy sand behind me a long time ago."
Girding her courage, Padmé replied "I know the queen as some valuables aboard the ship. And there is a reserve of credit chits and foreign coinage aboard, but nowhere this big, just for small events. Still, we can pay you, just as soon as I can have her majesty give me the amount needed in person."
Scratching his wrinkled chin, Wattoo asked "Don't you have accounts in other banks? Even a small one would pass the transaction over the Holonet."
Wrapping her coat around her tighter in anxiety, Padmé replied "We have those, but I don't have access. Again, I need to ask the queen for permission, and to get the user codes to make the transfer work. As a measure for security, none of the handmaidens ever carry these details on them, and most are never even shown the accounts or bank names, to avoid them being tortured for information for a heist or fraud."
Wattoo replied as kindly as possible for him "Then I'll wait until tomorrow morning to order the parts. I can put in a request to hold them for 24 hours without any cost, so I won't be stuck with a bill if you can't complete the deal on your end."
{ SW } - { Sandstorm, guests and odd discoveries } - { SW }
A sudden blaring alarm sounded in the shop, which made Shmi power-walk to the old Holonet console, lighting up the device to see what was happening. "Ah, crud! A sandstorm is blowing in from the desert! It's a Level 4, with debris flying in the twisters. We'll need to shutter the shop quickly, we only have about fifteen minutes before it arrives."
Never letting pass an opportunity to extort some free stuff out of people, Qui-Gon Jinn asked Wattoo, "Can you tell us if you have a place to shelter us for the duration? We arrived on foot, since our ship didn't have a speeder. We wouldn't be able to return in time to avoid the storm."
As the Toydarian frowned thoughtfully at the human interloper, Anakin butted-in with a fake-sweet smile that matched Jinn's overbearing snideness in every way. "Well, if you don't mind sleeping on rock covered with sand, our house has a good basement that's reinforced. It even has a full fresher and food maker. But it's not free. We're poor slaves, mom and I, so we'll need to be getting something out of it." The boy made the universal sign for payment, rubbing the fingers of his right hand to show exactly what he meant, and would not be deterred from his intention.
Jinn could only look at the boy in utter fascination of his unmitigated gumption while his padawan and the handmaiden guffawed in the background. Jar Jar Binks was so occupied at gawking at all the exposed merchandise that he totally missed all that had happened in the last half-hour, and wouldn't have understood any of the social cues anyways.
Shmi grunted at her son, snarking something in Huttese that had Wattoo lift off his chair and fly haphazardly as he was suddenly spasming with wheezing laughter at the mother - son duo's antics. Not fluent in the slugs' tongue, all the foreigners could do was watch and wait. Finally, Shmi gave up, throwing her hands to the air while her boy wore an impish grin that made his dimples even more cute.
"Okay, noobs!" the boy told them, still grinning. "Mom's agreed to housing you lot in the basement, but I'm in charge of the whole operation. If you need anything, it's me you ask. And I'll be the one collecting payment, which means the rent now and services or food at the end when you leave. If you don't have any currency, we can use my portable terminal for a credit charge."
Making a show of sighing loudly, Padmé played-up the poor handmaiden act as she emoted "And I guess her majesty's coffers will be good for it again, if unjustly lighter at the end of the day. Oh, this town is a tourist trap, I tell you!"
Anakin, being the little gremlin that he was, confirmed her act by saying "That's why we have the sandstorm machine hidden in the desert. When noobs like you come around, we start it up and get to overcharge you for basic lodgings while you waste your time in a hole under a rock."
Blinking in surprise, Obi-Wan Kenobi asked his master "A sandstorm machine? I heard about terraforming machinery that takes a few centuries to reshape a dead world, but that's new. Have you ever seen one?"
Giving the happily grinning child and spasming Toydarian a mild glare of monkly disapproval, Jinn replied "No, Obi-Wan, I have not seen one before. Mostly because it does not exist. The boy was simply jesting with the handmaiden about her lack of appreciation for his fine city and hospitality."
To which Anakin countered "Nice try, old man! Ass-kissing's free, but not the food & board you're trying to mooch off us! You're still paying in advance on everything, if I have anything to say about it. And I do, cuz mom said so!"
This of course forced Shmi to pat Wattoo's back vigorously, so the aging Toydarian didn't choke on his spittle as he guffawed boisterously at the boy's harsh humor at the foolish, thieving Jedi's expense. On the other hand, Ani's warning was serious, so Wattoo took it as such. That human sleemo wan'nt getting no freebies from him any time soon.
Becoming more serious, Padmé declared tentatively "Thank you for your hospitality. Still, I don't have anything to trade on me right now, for the advanced payment. Will you still accept us for the duration of the storm?"
Anakin made a toothy smile to outdo a Hutt as he patted the metallic domed head of R2D2, stating happily "Oh, I think you've got plenty in hand to offer for the down-payment. Something like this nice astromech would do quite well, from my perspective."
Sighing, Padmé accepted with some degree of reluctance; "I can accept your price, but only after the ship's engines have been repaired and proven functional. We have a pair of competent mechanics aboard, but we need R2D2 since we're down to just two droids out of our original complement of six. The other four were shot by the TF pursuit. Once we are assured of our escape from this sandpit of a planet, the little guy is yours."
"Wizard!" exclaimed Anakin, jumping in the air for joy as his mother put her face in her hands, wondering what her miracle child would be doing with the new machine. At least, this one could repair things at home for them, and maybe in the shop too, if their master was willing to negotiate a small increase in food rations or some time off to take care of themselves.
Still spasming in hilarity, Wattoo gestured in a shooing manner with both wrinkled, spotted hands at his customers. "Go! Ye best be out the door, if ya want to be in Shmi's house before the storm winds get dangerous! Anakin! Use the repulsor carriage to get you lot home, the skid's not fast enough to make it."
Ani was all smiles as he guided the group to the enclosed garage and into the open-sided motorized carriage. The vehicle was simply a two-foot thick flat-decked platform with all the machinery inside and a dozen vertical metal ribs with cargo netting between them, along the walls and ceiling. The only real protection the vehicle had was a civilian climatic shield recycled from a bombed-out speeder leftover from a street-fight between drug gangs, a year ago. The true usage of the hovering sled came from its two folding cots for seated or lying-down passengers, along the permanent driver's seat and console at the front.
"Keep the medic-droid inside!" Anakin warned them as he sat up front, punching buttons to activate the shop's climatic shield and garage door to let them out, all the while using the other hand to trigger the engines, repulsors and shield on the carriage. "We're the only ambulance in the whole district, so we have to be ready to fly out the moment the storm's gone, if a call for help is broadcast."
Shmi attached C3P0 and R2D2 to the ship's vertical ribs to keep them safely in place while verbally guiding the organic passengers to sit and pass one of the loose ropes around their waistline, just as basic seatbelt. Ordinarily it wasn't necessary, but during storm winds nobody took risks. "Okay people," the mother declared, "Raise a scarf or collar to cover your mouth and nose to avoid breathing in sand, debris, and toxic fumes from whatever breaks during the tempest. The carriage's shielding is basic and doesn't block everything we'll encounter on the way. And hold-on to each other as well, this is gonna be a bumpy ride, even if Anakin is the best driver I know."
Without further warning, the conveyance gunned out of the garage into the first swirls of winds carrying beige sand that floated in the air some three hundred feet high, presently moving as fast as the repulsor carriage. As promised, the uncomfortable ride took only two handfuls of minutes to accomplish and the climatic shield kept the riders alive and able to breathe mostly freely. A minute away from home, Anakin tapped a button on the console, activating the shield and sliding roof over the addition that had been built on the house's rear last year, when Wattoo had decided to try and save enough money to buy a second carriage or real speeder to expend his delivery & ambulance services. There was real money in having Ani go directly to the place where repairs were needed when it was an edifice's structure or infrastructures that had to be fixed. Clients were willing to pay extra for on-site work, with less delays from the useless back-&-forth implied by having parts delivered to Wattoo then delivered to their emplacement.
It took less than sixty seconds to have the carriage fly over the housing row then lowered into the garage annex, with the roof closed and the built-in vacuums sucking out the sand and fumes brought in by the already increasing storm winds. Anakin waited until everyone was un-strapped to shut-down the shields on the house's ceiling and carriage, as a simple way to make sure the vacuums had the time to suck-out the bad air before disembarking.
Shmi told them "We can all eat together in the kitchen. The basement is tolerable, but not particularly cozy. Besides the fresher stall, it's really only good to store things and sleep safely in a cool room that the twin suns can't bake."
The small group gathered around the cramped table, which was designed for only four people, so having Shmi, Qui-Gon, Jar Jar, and Padmé seated meant that Anakin and Obi-Wan were stuck using some step-stools and a folding side-table to have some space of their own to place bowls and goblets.
"Be careful with the water carafe!" the mother demanded. "A portion of water the size of those goblets is worth twenty wupiupi in the open-air markets. You don't want to spill any, given how rare and difficult to obtain it is."
Impressed at the liquid bounty visible on the table since that carafe held easily a half-drink for each of them, Qui-Gon asked as gently as he could (not a lot, and not that subtle either). "How can you afford so much, being a slave? I don't see Wattoo having the generosity to give you any, or pay you enough wages to purchase this quantity. And it is very pure as well."
Smiling proudly, Shmi explained "Well, that's Ani's doing. Over the last two years, he's been bringing in parts and bits from all over town, and crafting machines to make our lives easier. He built a shielded wind-trap on the rooftop that leads to a small hydro-ionic filter that extracts the moisture out the flowing air, like the vapor farmers but small-scale. That means we have some water for drinking and cooking, but all washing dishes and showers are purely sonic systems. Wattoo has let us use the laundry machines in the shop since Ani fixed them along the new fresher stalls, a few years ago."
Obi-Wan couldn't help but be impressed, and said so. "My, that's quite the industrious child. Most of the initiates of that age can barely get showered, dressed, or do homework on their own. In fact, the majority of my classmates needed to have a master and some padawans help them through the day to get things done in timely fashion. You must be proud of his accomplishments, and quite rightly so."
Shmi was smiling fondly at her son as she watched him and C-3P0 use the food-maker to prepare the meal for the group without having been told to help. He was always like that, helpful and thoughtful towards her. And now a bit towards Wattoo as well, although that could just be good business, keeping their depur happy so their small family didn't have problems. "Yes, I'm proud of him. It's only natural for a mother to feel that, given how well he's turning out. Most people on Tatooine don't usually end-up being very good individuals."
Nodding pensively, Kenobi seemed to agree but kept his actual opinion to himself. Personally, though, he found the precocious boy a bit hard to understand, and maybe just a tad awesome too. He hadn't exaggerated when he said most initiates his age were basically useless and clueless about life. For a nine-year-old to have so much autonomy, ability to make decisions, to produce original designs and machines that actually work, was quite unusual, even on worlds with highly evolved societies and culture like Coruscant.
Qui-Gon began asking about sandstorms, specifically their duration, intensity and potential damages that could result. The old man was relieved to hear that the planet normally broadcast weather warnings on public frequencies, so their ship should be fine, if they closed-up tightly in time. The Jedi would have time to call them and verify after the meal, then call the council too.
As the people began to eat, Jar Jar Binks forgot his manners, using his tongue to reach across the table to grab a piece of fruit, only to see one of the wooden utensils fly in the air to smack his long, oily appendage hard enough to sting. Qui-Gon looked to his padawan with a frown, ready to reprimand his crude use of the Force, but was met with a similar look from the younger male who thought his master had committed the deed. Their questions were answered when Shmi declared "Thank you Anakin. And you! Don't reach over the table like that! Just ask for the bowl to be passed near your seat. That's how polite folk act during meal time."
Qui-Gon wondered aloud "It was the boy that made that wooden fork spin in the air like that?" getting a positive grunt from Shmi who was busy chewing her food, the monk demanded seriously "How long has a been manifesting Force abilities like this?"
Shrugging carelessly, the mother replied "Since he was a year old, or so. It was hard to keep track of dates back under Gardulla's regime. Educated slaves that could read, write & count weren't seen as valuable, since droids could do the job without being paid or turning disloyal. Our only worth was being sold or used as betting tokens. But that should be near enough the good period. So, eight years, by now."
"Why was he never tested for his midi-chloridian count?" asked Obi-Wan, "And why was he not brought to the Temple on Coruscant, when his capacities began showing?"
Shmi looked at both Jedi with scornful disbelief, stating blithely; "What part of Anakin being a slave since birth didn't you get? And what part of - this is Hutt Space - don't you understand? You religious folks are all blind to the real world, aren't you? I know all about your blood tests and taking children away from their parents when you feel like it. Your snatchers are seen every now and then, scurrying around the smaller towns, where the Hutts don't look too often for traitors and debtors on the run. Do you really think that the overgrown slugs would ever follow laws other than their own? That they would let go of slaves that could be sold, or at least exploited to the bones?"
Nodding firmly to himself, Qui-Gon Jinn declared primly "Well, we're here now. He'll come to the ship for the blood test and abilities check, then we'll ask the council's opinion over Holonet."
Obi-Wan objected immediately "But master, he's nine years old! The usual age of recruitment is under three! Surely the council will reject the application, notwithstanding his self-taught abilities or further potential. Even in your lifetime, no initiate has been accepted that was older than four. I don't see master Yoda changing that policy since he's the one who made it, seven centuries ago, when he became grand-master of the order."
Adopting the mien of a venerable sage (he just looked constipated to the Skywalkers) Jinn replied "Mind you not, padawan. I shall converse with master Yoda and have this settled promptly."
"No, you won't." countered Anakin, sitting with his arms crossed and a fierce expression on his face. "I don't recall having asked for any religion in my life. And I sure don't want to go live like a space-priest in a temple on a planet I don't even like. I saw the films on the net, and Coruscant just looks dead under all that permacrete and durasteel. And, if you think I'm leaving mom behind, you're pretty much worth less than sun-baked bantha poodoo."
"You are a mere child. You will do as you are told by adults, namely me and the council." Countered Jinn in such a condescending way that even Kenobi winced at the shoddy attempt to display dominance over the boy.
Smiling with all his teeth showing, Anakin replied "Then you can go find your food and shelter in the storm. It's only supposed to last for two, maybe three days. For a big, powerful wizard like you, a little mess like a bit of sandy wind shouldn't harm you."
Shmi added "And don't bother asking for a refund either. Firstly, it was the girl that paid, not you. And the way you want to kidnap my son, I'll reimburse you only in blaster bolts, not coin. Get out, and use your precious Godly Force to save your stinking hide, bearded mongrel. I'll not tolerate your kind under my roof."
Smirking satisfiedly, Jinn countered snobbishly "But it's not your roof, isn't it? It belongs to Wattoo. Like you both. And since we are paying customers of his, I do believe I know what his commandments to you will be. Therefore, I am not leaving, and Anakin will be coming with us to Coruscant regardless of any opinion other than the council's will."
Exchanging a look, the mother and son nodded at each other then Shmi stated blithely "We can talk to Wattoo right away, the subspace comms pass the storm easily, in this close proximity. Go ahead, use the console next to your student."
Frowning in wonder, Qui-Gon asked "How do you have a subspace comm unit in a slave's dwelling? If you were maintaining a ship for your master, I could understand having the system, but in a house?"
Shrugging carelessly, Shmi answered tartly "Anakin gets to pick-up a few cubic feet of materials from the shop's raw intake every month, to practice his newly learned skills on. Sometimes he gets lucky enough to find something useful, like that console and a few droid parts. Or the water maker, down in the basement."
Wanting to defuse the situation, Obi-Wan looked the console over and called out "Master, there are several annotated buttons on the device, including one for Wattoo's personal comms. Shall I signal him, so we can resolve this?"
Standing from his wooden stool, the elder Jedi monk joined his hands inside his long robe sleeves to make himself look more wise and stoic than he was, earning nothing but glares from the Skywalkers and doubt from Padmé. Rolling his eyes at the man's idiotic attempt to con people – again, the padawan activated the console to connect with the Toydarian junker.
"What'ta da ya want, Ani?" demanded the grouchy old shopkeeper as his hologram coalesced above the console.
Bypassing everyone, Qui-Gon Jinn stepped forward to address the flying miser and make his 'truth' the only one that counted in the situation. It took only five minutes to explain his desires, so he got the nasty surprise response right away.
"Is that so? Shmi, what'ta da ya think about this?" Wattoo asked in his thickly accented Basic. "I dun'na want to lose Ani from the shop. We need him to stay afloat, work-wise. And his inventions made our lives better, too. If I get a second repulsor carriage, who will go to the clients to fix their machines, if not him?"
Jinn was living in a waking nightmare; never inside his deluded mind had he realized that considerations other than the Will of the Force, or the authority of the Jedi Council, would influence this event. Instead, the very material and practical necessities of the shop's survival happened to depend squarely on the child he wanted to abscond back to Coruscant for the cult. When, exactly, had the process of 'recruiting' a child for the only 'valid' temple of the Force's Light-Side become so damned complicated?
"I don't want to lose my son, Wattoo. And you need him to keep the shop running profitably. Do something about it." Shmi demanded firmly, not budging an inch on the subject.
Seeing Anakin nodding vigorously next to her made-up the Toydarian's mind easily. He had a pair of slaves who were intelligent, autonomous, inventive, and actually had begun to not-dislike spending time in his presence a few years back. He may have begun to enjoy their company at the same period. It might be a weird definition of a family group, but it was all Wattoo had, and he also didn't want to lose it, to become a lonely old miser again.
"Notta gonna happen, then." Flapping his wings to lift him from the battered old dirt-brown recliner in his living room, the junker floated slowly towards the wall-inset console to better glare at Qui-Gon Jinn through the holo. Even rendered only in misty blue & silver, the short winged being showed an iron spine that surprised the Jedi knight badly. "Ani belongs to me, and I'm notta letting him go anywhere outside of Mos-Espa territory. Besides, the tracking biochip in his body will explode if he leaves without the code for the docility transmitter. And don't think it only blows-off a leg or arm. That explosive is an organic liquid called 'Murnium', invented for the Old Republican Guard, before the Great Hyperspace war, some 5,000 years back. With a quarter ounce floating inside him, the boy's bomb could chop that Nubian cruiser in halves, if he blows in the middle. And that means no more Ani for either of us. You savvy that, Jedi conman?"
Jinn was further put out of sorts when the Nubian handmaiden declared in prim, crisp words "The Royal Throne of Naboo will guarantee Anakin's safety to, aboard, and back from our ship. Both you as master, and he as the workman, will be generously compensated for your efforts at repairing the cruiser. And your tolerance of what was brought to your lives so rudely." At which point the fourteen-years-old glared at the Jedi knight with such ferocity that he had a flashback of Mace Windu, the last time he was sent to the man's office for an official punishment just a week before his scheduled knighting. That had not been fun, or forgotten to date.
Bowing his head in ill-will towards both the holographic junker and the Nubian servant, Qui-Gon stated "For now, I will tolerate the situation, but the moment we can use the ship's facilities, the boy will be tested for midi-chloridian count, and the high council of the Light-Side apprised of those results. They hold final authority over such matters, as is Republic Law."
Obi-Wan passed a tired hand over his face as both an enraged Shmi and nastily laughing Wattoo replied in unison that they were in Hutt Space, not a Republic world, so those laws meant nothing to either of them, or Jabba. And under Hutt Law, the man and his cult had no manner to force the issue, as the owner of the slave was 'master' in each and every way, including the right to pimp out, rape or kill his property at will without giving explanations to anybody.
Defeated by Reality yet again, the religious grifter was obliged to swallow his bile and be silent for the rest of the evening, even being made to descend into the basement immediately due to all the baleful glares being sent his way by anyone other than the foolish Gungan. He didn't go hungry that night only because obi-Wan took pity on him enough to bring down a large bowl of whole fruits and nuts to share with their traveling group, in case somebody woke-up in the middle of the night with an urge to snack.
The Nubian ship's repairs and Jedi idiocies
(Star Wars – Duel of the Fates)
Ruusan 968 (Anakin 9 years old)
City Mos-Espa
Planet Tatooine
The storm had lasted three full days before relenting at long last. The damnable weather pattern had swept through the town with wind gusts reaching over 125Km/h at some periods, making even the durasteel shutters covering the windows shake in their frames. Anakin had gone to verify the garage annex twice a day while they were entombed in the small hovel, and he'd left the external climatic shield that surrounded the structure active on 35% strength the whole time to buffer the impacts. Thankfully, their 12 gallon water cistern was filled halfway so they wouldn't lack fluid for drinking and cooking, and their showers were sonic. Plus, the dishwasher and laundry machines were sonic as well, and good enough to handle those jobs in three separate batches to do it all without straining the mechanisms.
The small family was also lucky that their food reserves were well stocked. Due to Anakin's ability to render small services to the immediate neighbors, they often received some durable preserves with a long shelf life, like canned vegetables, dehydrated soup, powdered milk, insta-bread paste in a flimsiplast envelope, and a few boxes of ready-to-heat meal-kits. That meant they had enough to feed everyone each day, although their small allotment of fresh fruits had been depleted at breakfast on the second morning. What should have been a month's worth of food for two humans had lasted less than a week, given the size of the group and their varied appetites. In particular, Jar Jar Binks should honestly try to control himself, and especially learn what it meant to live in a poor world where everything was rationed due to rarity, no matter what social rank you held.
Thankfully, on the fourth morning, the weather cleared out, the winds dying down just before partial-dawn when the first of the binary suns rose above the stone mountains that dominated the deep-desert. Unfortunately, the bad climate had left nearly two more feet of sand everywhere all over town and radically changed the landscape outside the urbanized areas. That was the main reason why nobody ever bothered with making roadways or railways on this planet; the storms would either destroy or bury the permanent fixtures in a matter of weeks after completion.
Wringing her hands inside her sleeves, Shmi anxiously watched her little son prepare the repulsor carriage to ferry the unhappy group back to their damaged space-cruiser, so the teenaged girl could get the codes for the payment due to Wattoo. Despite the Nubian girl' assurances, the young mother couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen to her son, the very moment the ship was repaired and certified for flight.
C-3P0 and R2D2 were both tied down in the vehicle, leaving Shmi to walk back to the shop with the medical droid in tow so they could open the health cabinet again. After making sure that his organic passengers were seated safely, Anakin hugged his mom then got the carriage up in the air, moving towards the grounded ship at a fair pace. The early morning air was still fresh with the nighttime's chill, as only one of the suns had peaked above the horizon. Using skills and a memory of the landscape that only native dwellers of the planet possessed, the nine-year-old boy guided the vehicle towards the map coordinates given by the handmaiden without ever really looking at the compass on his piloting console.
{ SW } - { Jinn's plots and perfidies witnessed } - { SW }
After roughly twenty minutes airborne, the repulsor carriage arrived in sight of the shiny chromium-clad Nubian ship. Under Anakin's expert hands, the unwieldly conveyance lowered to ground-level, to slide between the sand dunes and rocky outcroppings until they stopped besides the waiting vessel.
Standing on the lowered access ramp was captain Quarsh Panaka, the queen's chief of security and nominal leader of the expedition to bring her majesty to Coruscant unharmed. The black-skinned human male watched with squinted eyes as the group that left four days back finally returned, bringing news of their changed situation.
The young handmaiden primly declared "Captain, I must confer with her majesty of the recent happenings. Please make sure our guests are comfortable, especially this child. He is Anakin Skywalker, a mechanic on contract to help repair our systems so we can finally join Coruscant to resolve this harrowing ordeal. Also, poor Jar Jar Binks should be given time to shower with water, as he has become quite dehydrated. His skin and tongue have dried enough to form lesions and scabs. Our healer should address this, before an infection develops. Also, due to a trade with the Skywalker family for their hospitality during the sandstorm, the droid R2D2 now belongs to Anakin. Have our techs process the protocol for the change of ownership. DO NOT memory-wipe him; Anakin wants him intact, plus he's needed for the repairs when the parts arrive, tomorrow."
Nodding along silently, the older soldier moved aside to let the hurried girl pass by, gesturing for Anakin to follow him as he walked up the ramp. The group heard the man call for the shipboard medic to look over Binks' condition as he guided the small blond child to the mechanical bay where droid maintenance was carried out. It took only a few minutes to have R2D2 configured for his new owner, while leaving all previous programs and memories intact as asked by the handmaiden, including all the access codes to the ship's internal systems and comms array.
Now being left alone in a passenger room to occupy himself with setting-up his new work droid, Anakin asked "R2, can you still tap into the ship's security cameras? I want to see what some bad people are doing. I don't trust that old grifter monk or the kid with him. I just know they're up to no good against mom 'n me."
Making crude bleeping noises of agreement, R2D2 extended his connector arm to lock into the rotating port of the comms console present in the room. In seconds, the child was able to see the pair of Jedi having a hushed debate in the room next door, and it was even worse than what Anakin expected from the two felons.
- Spied conversation -
"You understand what must happen then, Obi-Wan?" demanded Qui-Gon Jinn of his uneasy apprentice, as the nineteen-year-old boy paced restlessly around the cramped guestroom. "We need that blood test result in hand, as that is the only fact that can inflect the council's decision towards following the Will of the Force in this matter."
Shaking his head negatively, the teenager countered blithely "Even if, by some miracle, the council agreed to test the child at the temple, we both know that he would not be accepted in the ranks of the initiates. Recruiting children passed age 4 is almost banned at the same level as letting an adult join. Yoda will not change this, especially not for yet another delusion from you."
Then, the young man made a face of disgust as he further went against the futile excuses of his wayward master. "As for your momentous idea of creating an accident so the child bleeds enough to supply the material for the midi-chloridian testing, that is both absurd and dangerous. Firstly, we are repairing a Royal cruiser during a time of war, while escaping enemy pursuit. Any act that slows or hinders the work could be considered sedition. Causing harm to the contracted workman would be treason as it directly helps the enemy catch-up to the queen, to either capture or kill her. Which happens to make the deed into High Treason, and also an act of war between the Jedi Temple and the Naboo government."
Facing his frowning, prevaricating master with an air of absolute denial and opposition, Kenobi claimed "I may be young, but I definitely know which side of this mess masters Yoda and Windu will take, and it isn't yours. Finally, I shall remind you AGAIN that the child and his mother have no trust in us. Any results from medical procedures done against their assent shall hold no value to them, nor with any Hutt tribunal they may invoke. And I can see this going to a court, or the ambassadors, before we leave this overcooked sandball."
Frowning even worse, Kenobi asked in dark tones as he glared balefully at the older Jedi monk "And, what of the fact the boy is a slave? Not only does his mother refuse our interference, so does his owner of record. There is literally no manner in which you can take this boy to Coruscant without it being an actual kidnapping, something that is quite illegal under Republic Law, even for our group's usually protected Jedi status and protocols. The Republic Courts have ruled extensively upon the fact that the Jedi can obtain a child ONLY with clear and enlightened parental or judicial consent. Which you do not have."
Becoming agitated, the padawan spread his arms wide, questioning his master's dignity as much as his wisdom. "So how? Do you want to kill his mother and owner, to have free reign to purchase him from Jabba, when the Hutt claims all the decedents' properties as is the law and custom on Tatooine? I will remind you that the Hutts do this only to those with outstanding debts. Which Wattoo has cleared out, two full years back! The Toydarian owes nothing to no one! He has also severely curbed his alcohol, drug and gambling vices at the same period, to the point he is seen as sober by local standards of social behavior. So, what is your idea?"
Making a face of utter condescension at his padawan, knight Jinn replied in his patented fake-wisdom tone that absolutely nobody ever believed, except himself that is. "Do not be absurd, young Obi-Wan. We do not need to kill anyone. Not yet, at any rate. If the time for such sad option to be exercised comes, then, as the adult and master of our team, I shall enact it, not you. It is clear that you are not yet ready to fully accept the guidance and burden of the Force's Will in your soul, young one. Therefore, I shall shield you from reality a bit longer by carrying out the fouler deeds of our faith until you are matured into full adulthood. Once you are no longer my padawan-learner, then you can decide to renege the Will of the Force, and assume the consequences on your own head as well."
Passing a hand over his short greying beard both as a nervous tick and attempt to look wiser, Jinn explained his half-baked plan to the aghast younger monk. "We shall contrive a small accident with the child. We shall wait until all the repairs are finished, of course, since you so kindly pointed the Nubian queen's lack of understanding of Jedi arcana. Once all repairs are done and payments processed, we will make Anakin have a banal accident that will nonetheless cause significant damages to something utterly meaningless, but greatly expensive to replace, like the queen's highly artistic wardrobe or jewelry. Since neither the child, his mother, nor Wattoo, have any means to repay such damages, they will have to sell Anakin to the Naboo as compensation for the dreadful event. That is the only asset they hold with any value whatsoever, and so it shall happen. That is how the boy comes to Coruscant with us, to face the council." Jinn concluded his explanation with self-satisfied visage and body language, totally unaware that his apprentice was looking at him with contempt and deepening despise.
Making a herculean effort to steady is breath and temper, Kenobi countered in his own fake-respect tones, to get the details out of the dishonest old grifter. "What of the slavery issue? It is illegal, and Naboo is in the Republic. Having witnessed the queen in action, I can see that she may be younger than me, but not blind nor inclined to renege her people's morals. How do you get her to accept Anakin aboard, and then release him to us once on Coruscant?"
Smiling like a nexu with a mouthful of squirming human, Qui-Gon Jinn answered "Why, we make her our aware and willful accomplice, of course. That young handmaiden was quite put-out by the existence of slavery, right on the planet which is their galactic next-door neighbor. A state of affairs she has no doubt shared with her emotional and highly moral mistress. I shall present to the young monarch that the only way to release Anakin from bondage is to enact this little charade, with the only 'victim' being Wattoo, the drunken, stoned-out miser who owns the boy. And the Hutts, as they would not be getting the sales tax that is usually taken when slaves are sold in a purely commercial transaction."
Smirking in dishonest glee, Jinn detailed "Anakin will therefore be acquired as a slave, yes, but the moment he is safely out of Hutt Space, he will be freed by the eager, morally driven juvenile ruler. She will then promptly follow Republic Law to hand the child over to Jedi care, because she needs our support before the Senate to win her cause against the Trade Federation's blockade and occupation of her planet." Wagging his finger in utter paternalistic condescension at the teenager, Qui-Gon preached "As you see, Obi-Wan, no killing or deplorable acts of violence necessary. When you grow old enough to acquire the wisdom and experience in the Force that I have, you shall be able to see the eddies of society just as well, and obtain the mission goal just as cleanly as I, your benevolent elder and master."
The padawan stood with his hands tucked in his robe sleeves, giving the appearance of calm and serenity so valued by the adepts of the Unificative Force preached by Yoda for seven centuries. It was a lie. Inside, the teenager was fuming at the lengths of bastardy, hypocrisy, conning, extortion and sheer seditious actions, that Qui-Gon Jinn was willing to descend to, to ensure his being right over and above all others. And he didn't care whom he hurt or got in trouble either, as long as he was right.
- I saw what you did -
As it was, while Qui-Gon thought his student was dumbstruck silent by the imminently genial plan he had concocted, the younger man was in fact thinking very hard about cutting-off his padawan braid and leaving the Jedi Order completely, to return to his estranged extended family on planet Stewjon.
But, the much more important fact was that neither of them realized they were being seen, and recorded, by an angry child who now had no reasons to believe them anymore. And Anakin had grown-up under Hutt rule all his life; he knew quite a few things about screwing the foul plans of people trying to hurt his mother, or how to get vengeance if he hadn't been able to stop the events before they happened. There were MANY good reasons why people never bothered Watto more than once, when they were jealous of his wealth, or upset because he didn't pimp-out his two slaves like he was occasionally asked for. Since he was five years old, Anakin had become a small but relentless rabid guard dog with a growing body-count appended to his name, and his expertise with traps or sabotage of vehicles and buildings was a well-established fact in the Mos-Espa community.
Glaring at the now muted holo-screen, Ani whispered darkly to his new droid friend "R2D2? Did you record that? Did the ship's own systems get it too?" Getting affirmative bleeps, the boy concentrated on what could happen next. The smile he made would have forced a sarlaac to think twice before inviting him in for dinner, under the instinct that the kid would not be a kind houseguest and the menu items would not be pleasant for the huge beast anymore.
Putting a plan together in his head at break-neck speed, Ani decided to play everything on the roulette wheel, just the way the Hutts did when they wanted to know if Fate really favored them or their adversaries. "By Varl's ghosts, let the Celestial Disc spin, giving us our fair dues this day! Ja'aht Hutta nh'ekt!" the blond boy swore to the spirits of yore.
{ SW } - { Parts, hard work, and a bloody Jedi test } - { SW }
Later, in the early evening, just after dinner…
Padmé Naberrie, queen Amidala of Naboo, all of fourteen years old and so thoroughly pissed-off about this damned life and the rotten choices that led her here, was really starting to regret not simply nuking the TF ships orbiting her planet.
While the general population did not know it, the Nubian Space Defense did own several powerful bombs mounted to missiles that could have settled the mess much sooner and determinedly. Except that the fool imbecile that sat as monarch before her, king Veruna, had been both paranoid and utterly out of his depths as ruler of the small human population of Naboo. Consequently, the debased mongrel had ordered that the warheads be stored separately from the vectors. Like, the bombs on a moon orbiting another of the solar system's planets, while the missiles were kept under a mountain on another moon orbiting another planet.
How the kriff did anybody reassemble those machines to fight-off the TF, when they would have to fly around the blockade fighters to gather all the parts and bring them to Theed? Honestly, Veruna's death was a long overdue thing, and he didn't die painfully enough for the much-maligned teenaged queen's refined tastes. She wondered idly if the legends about Sith cultists being able to resurrect people to further torture them into insanity were true, and could she learn to use those practices on the dead king?
"Hmmm, decisions, decisions…" Amidala murmured tartly, emanating quite the darkened aura as she glared malevolently at the elderly Jedi grifter from under her makeup, expansive hair-style, and the heavy, ornately crafted, bejeweled robes of the Nubian Royal Office. How she despised the gundark-spawned cur! Could he not find a way to offend the Hutts and get rekt to make her life easier? Was it so much to ask, in this day and age of the High Republic?
The pair of humans were standing on the ship's access ramp, each to their own side and well away from the other, watching as the mechanics and Anakin received the floating skids holding the purchased engine block and its associated spare parts. In mere minutes of work, captain Panaka, the Skywalker child and his two droids, had inventoried the crates and floated them inside the grounded cruiser to process the repairs.
As the floating skids passed between them, the old Jedi monk saw the adolescent queen carefully observing him with clear distrust, as if taking his measure and finding him lacking. Just like Mace Windu always did. And like Obi-Wan did, ever since Qui-Gon had left him to fend for himself on a foreign planet at age fourteen, separating him from the Coruscant Temple and any support for an entire year. A year during which he was enslaved, tortured, raped, scarred, broken body & soul, all the while being sold and transported to several different worlds. Until the fateful day when the pirate ship carrying him to his new owners was accidentally intercepted by Republic Security, when they tried to pass the orbital borders of Mandalore, in the Trans-Hydian Borderlands.
For some unfathomable reason, Obi-Wan no longer trusted him, nor showed any respect towards him, despite that the High Council had maintained his position as Qui-Gon's padawan-learner. Yoda had quite clearly stated that it was Kenobi's First Trial of the Force, and since he'd passed it admirably, he could continue under his current master's tutelage. Nothing further had been said by the Temple hierarchy, so why did the boy keep scorning him so? And why did Windu never treat him like the senior knight he was, for so many years? Yes, the Korun male was much older than him, but so what? Passed fifty years old, Jinn should be treated like a mature and erudite Jedi, not as if he were one calamity away from causing the collapse of the entire Order. Why was it that no one ever saw the genius and Force-sensitivity he wielded, when they were so openly displayed?
Too busy sighing in what he thought to be well-earned soothing self-approval, Jinn missed the renewed scorn on the juvenile monarch's face as she gathered her thick robes to pivot around, back into the ship's much better climate to avoid all the damned sand and evening chill.
- One fixed hyperdrive and many needless problems -
It was mid-evening now, and the two technicians working with Anakin on repairing the ship's gateway generator that allowed access to the natural dimensional pipes named 'Hyperspace' were impressed with the kid's skills, knowledge and assiduity for getting the task done on time.
The nine-year-old had crawled head-first & hip-deep into the hyperdrive core, fearless about being inside the claustrophobic conduits with soldering irons, batteries and chemicals to make the welds by hand since R2D2 couldn't get inside the tight space.
With the chatty boy's help, the switch-out of damaged parts had been done inside of four hours, including the tests to validate that everything was working on manufacturing specs, as promised by Wattoo and Anakin himself.
Everything worked! Even the pieces the child had needed to mill to fit or welded manually, it all worked like a miracle!
Truly, the pair of adult mechanics were agog with admiration at the boy's performance, and weren't shy about telling their superiors about how the blond child had saved them more than twenty hours of work. If he hadn't been present, the adults would have had to dismantle a quarter of the engine block to have enough space for an astromech droid to enter the damaged zone to effectuate the vital repairs. As it was, all that superfluous work of unbuilding and reassembling the drive's caisson and structural elements were bypassed simply by having a workman small enough to fit inside with his toolkit.
Queen Amidala personally thanked Anakin, promising that him and his owner would receive a generous gratuity for the speed and excellence of the services rendered, on top of the fees agreed. Since the Nubian monarch did in fact have accounts in small banks that the Trade Federation could not intimidate or corrupt, the money aspect of the transactions was all good, so any tip or gift of gratitude would be extra profit on top for Anakin and his mother. Whatever Wattoo got was his problem to handle, not Ani's.
Qui-Gon Jinn was put-out by the turn of events. He stood in the cruiser's royal room, watching the boy receive plaudits from the queen while his own schemes had stalled before even getting started. In order to have some blood to test the child's midi-chloridian count, a small lesion was needed. However, the boy had not been alone since his private meeting with the queen, an hour before the dinner the ship's inhabitants had all shared together. All the work had been done with the droids, two techs and captain Panaka inside the engine room, establishing far too many witnesses to events in case the youngling decided to protest against Jinn or Kenobi giving him 'help' once the necessary injury occurred. On top of things, the boy had demanded that the internal security cameras by tested and proven active before he touched the engines or purchased parts, in case somebody tried to accuse him of causing damages, or worse, stealing items from the batch received.
No, Qui-Gon Jinn was not a happy monk, at present. He needed to have that bloody… well, whatever it would end-up being, with the boy's fresh blood on it, or he'd be empty-handed when he called the council, when they reached orbit before entering Hyperspace.
Seeing no other manner, Jinn used the long sleeves of his robes to hide the movement of his left hand as he used telekinesis to make a sharp wire-cutter open from its folded position in the child's tool bandolier, then fall on the child's bare hand with enough force to slice the skin. Sure enough, the child recoiled in surprise, yelling at the sudden pain and blood flowing from the deep lesion. The elder knight made certain to stay out of the way as queen Amidala immediately got off her throne to come see for herself what the damage was. Upon her order, captain Panaka put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder to guide him towards the infirmary, heedless of the very nice line of blood drops falling to the metal decking as they moved out of the throne room.
Pulling his hands apart and thus making them visible for a few seconds, Jinn moved the index fingers of both hands at the same time, inflicting a Force Persuasion (mind-trick) on the monarch and her handmaidens simultaneously, to make them ignore the Jedi as he bent forward to rub on the fallen blood trail a small piece of sterile medical gauze he had been carrying for just this task. Now having the object of his desire in hand, Jinn folded his limbs back inside his wide sleeves, leaving the royal compartment without paying attention to anything else but the goal in his mind.
Because of his self-blindness, he failed to notice that both astromechs had been watching him closely ever since the engine repairs had been finished, and that at least one droid kept surveillance on him the entire time he was present near Anakin. He had also quite idiotically forgotten that any spaceship of this quality and luxury had an incredibly complete security suite to prevent theft or violence inside, thusly didn't make any particular efforts to hide his going into the medical bay to use the testing equipment on the purloined blood. Jinn was in fact so imbued of his own importance and belief that he carried-out the test while Anakin was being patched-up on a bio-bed not ten feet away from the sensor station.
Qui-Gon had been seated on the plastic stool with his face glued to the medical sensor despite all activities surrounding him until his morose padawan entered to join him. Jinn had sent him a small 'beep' on his personal comms to declare the blood had been obtained. The elder knight wanted those results, but his vapid ego also demanded that Obi-Wan be present for the first reveal of it, to be told how right Jinn was, as was always the case when his student doubted his methods, goals or successes.
Unfortunately for the self-righteous religious zealot, the medical sensor was giving him a result that he had no manner in his entire life of having anticipated. This meant he was now going to be hoisted by his own petard right in front of Obi-Wan, who would certainly not miss-out on the occasion of saying a resounding "Gotcha!" to the elder Jedi. And this public shaming by his student would happen, no matter what the over-arching meaning of the blood results could possibly entail for the entire Light-Side of the Force in the galaxy.
"Don't keep me in suspense, master," the teenager demanded snidely, "After all you schemed and did to get that blood from the boy, surely you want to brag at me about how you were right all along, that Yoda will have him trained despite his age?"
Pulling himself away from the sensor device, Qui-Gon gestured silently at the machine, mutely inviting the younger monk to look at the sample and results himself. Not bothering with a seat, Obi-Wan peered into the sensor's visor display, seeing but having many troubles with believing the evidence before his eyes.
"How can this be, master?" the adolescent asked in a dread-filled whisper. "His count is above 19,000 midi-chloridians per cell, and he has only female DNA inside his chromosomes. All the male DNA is actually being emulated by the midi-chloridians! What kind of mutation are we looking at, here?"
"I don't know, Obi-Wan, but this development certainly means that he must be brought physically before the High Council on Coruscant, so that chief-healer Vokara Che herself can run the most complete tests known to our Order. If this situation is confirmed, then we may have found the Child of Prophecy, the Son of the Suns, spoken of in the hallowed holocron, Wills of the Whills."
"Yoda will be apoplexic if you begin tonight's holo-conference with that little morsel," Kenobi hinted at crudely. Then the adolescent exclaimed loudly "Oh, Force help us all! With a count of 19,000 at age nine, he could reach above 50,000 by the time he's twenty-five years old! That would put him just shy of two times the full power of masters Yoda, Windu or Koon! What a nightmare scenario this could become! Your instincts were spot-on, master Qui-Gon. He MUST be brought before the high council and be trained on Coruscant. Such power cannot be allowed to fall into hands other than those of the Light Jedi, else all could be lost to Darkness everlasting."
Wincing in realization that his first reflex at the discovery could indeed see him recalled to the Temple and removed from all missions for a long period of 'meditation' on propagating unproven news, Qui-Gon began to formulate a new plot. It was a good thing he had all the night to plan, since queen Amidala had insisted that Anakin not leave the ship in the dead of night, especially with a fresh injury that would affect a limb he needed to drive the repulsor carriage properly.
Well then, Jinn imagined he could rather easily come up with a good idea to make the boy follow them home before breakfast tomorrow. If not, then he would have to take the overly autonomous child by force, then use a separate ship to reach Coruscant. Obi-Wan would have to stay with the Nubians to hand-hold the child-queen through whatever emoting she would do, in consequence at the sudden split of their traveling group. Not the optimal scenario, but his padawan was adaptable and quick, so it would work. It also meant finding a way to neutralize whatever claims Wattoo and the mother had, or he'd face legal troubles on arriving at the Temple.
Which meant that Jinn now had to find a way to disable the bloody transmitter, too. The Jedi monk would need to deactivate the docility chip, or it would explode to kill the runaway slave and his helpers. He had to find that device and either shut it off, or control it to maintain a firm grip over the temperamental child. Once at the Temple, the council could decide what happened to the infernal machine and the Murnium biochip floating in the child's body.
- Your secrets are mine -
Unknown to Jinn, Anakin was presently in the royal compartment, deep in a hushed debate with queen Amidala, captain Panaka and the four handmaidens that accompanied the monarch on her trip. Also present were R2D2 and the ship's remaining astromech to control the security recordings being displayed.
"That bastard!" exclaimed Vorlé as she saw the discrete motion of hands hidden by robes as the elder Jedi caused the tool in Ani's leather bandolier to move out of its pocket, open and fall in direct line with his exposed bare hand to cause injury.
The queen nodded, stating "Make certain this recording is sent forward to both the Naboo ambassy on Coruscant and the private data vault that holds our national archives, on Eriadu." Making a face of disgust, the young queen wondered aloud "What will he do now, with those results? They are quite exceptional…"
Indeed, a second screen was showing everything that the medical scans had discovered, at the same time as either Jinn or Kenobi processed tests on the sensor station. Internal remote management functions of critical equipment were sooo practical that way. And with the techs loyal only to Naboo and the queen, having a silent access from the royal chamber was easy. They could have faked the tests, if they had wanted, but the truth was so much more important, and useful.
Captain Panaka opined "With those kinds of results, I daresay that the old bungler will try to hijack the boy from his mother and owner's hands in the briefest delays. It's just that I don't currently see what method he'll use to pass it off legitimately."
Snorting in contempt, Anakin replied at the older male "He's a zealot and a grifter! He won't be worried about laws or how it looks, just that he can get away with me to get applauded at his damned temple. You heard him talk to his student. They have a bloody prophecy involved, and he thinks I'm the guy it points at. No, that bastard won't let me go, and he's willing to kill my mom and Wattoo to get it done."
Dormé, another handmaiden, growled lowly "And think of this, majesty; the mongrel will no doubt betray all of us, if it means he can prove his prophecy is applicable. The personal importance, power and authority he would get inside his sect as the discoverer of the Miracle Child would be enormous. And you know people have murdered or betrayed countries for far less than those stakes."
Rubbing his chin, Panaka proposed carefully "You know, there is something that could be done… But there is a big risk involved in what I'm thinking about." Seeing his queen gesture her curiosity, the soldier explained "Why don't we use what Jinn himself had planned, but do it in reverse? He wanted to make Anakin have an accident that would indebt him towards the Nubian People beyond his capacity to reimburse, thusly staying a slave but under your ownership. Let' do the opposite. You declare that you are the one indebted beyond payment, so you offer him and his mother Diplomatic Immunity under Sovereign Privilege. Since that set of laws has absolute priority in the Galactic Senate and Courts, the Jedi will have to choke on it, and walk-back whatever plan he's trying to imagine."
Giving the queen a sad smile, Anakin countered "That's really nice of you all to think that hard of a way to keep that pervert away from me, but it won't work. Every slave in Hutt Space knows this. In order to avoid terror strikes and warfare from the Hutt armies, the worlds part of the Republic passed a series of 'Accommodations' a few millennia ago. Basically, a member of a Republic world's monarchy, government or army can't simply give diplomatic status to a slave to remove them from Hutt Space. You have to buy the slave, free them, and then grant whatever status or privilege you plan for." Shaking his head forlornly, the blond child whispered "Don't blame yourself. You have all been a lot kinder towards mom and I than anybody else in a long time. I guess I'll just have to live with whatever crap the Jedi invents."
Pursing her lips in royal fury, Padmé Amidala countered that idea promptly. "No, you will not. Captain, can you drive that repulsor carriage safely enough to get me to the junk shop in the dead of night? I want to address the Toydarian in person. I have an idea, and it will most certainly work out for all involved."
Shrugging, the chief of security replied "I can drive the scrappy antique well enough. It's more the fact it handles like a floating skid-steer that makes it hard to control when it winds too strongly. And Tatooine's night winds can be pretty surprising, from what I've seen to date." Gesturing at the handmaidens with an idle hand, the soldier demanded "What I'm really gonna insist on is the presence of a least two of your women, to keep watch on you while I drive. And when you deal with the junker. From what Ani says, he isn't so bad, but you never know. And like the kid reminds us all the time, Hutt laws and culture aren't based on friendship or being agreeable with neighbors."
Ignoring the amused huff from Anakin who was nodding vigorously at the man's words of warning, queen Amidala pointed an imperious index at Vorlé and Dormé, choosing them for the impromptu trip outside the ship. The teenaged ruler surprised the boy by grabbing his face in both hands, then planting a quick kiss on top of his long messy blond hair, which she then mussed up roughly, laughing at his indignant "Hey! I ain't a pet!" by countering "But you're sooo cute! And those dimples! Aaah, you'll be a heartbreaker when you're my age!"
Arms crossed over his chest in a huff, Anakin stomped out of the royal compartment followed by a beeping & blooping R2D2 who was actually amused at the organic antics. The droid's noises caused Anakin to immediately offer him an oil wash in exchange for letting things drop. Not stupid, the robotic being accepted on the spot, guiding the child to the mech bay used for these activities.
The queen's gambit and Sith interloping
(Star Wars – Imperial March)
Ruusan 968 (Anakin 9 years old)
City Mos-Espa
Planet Tatooine
It was early morning, on the fifth day of the Nubian escapees' arrival to Tatooine, when Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into the ship's living & dining room for breakfast, only to be confronted by the sight of Shmi Skywalker preparing food for her son and the crewpersons starting their work day. Being a morning person and more sociable than his master even on bad days, Obi-Wan saluted the woman, all the while asking what she was doing aboard, instead of waiting for her son at the shop.
"I believe that question should be addressed to me, monks of Jedi," tersely spoke the juvenile queen from behind them as she entered the common room to sit at the table, on Anakin's right-hand side. "A simple fare of cold cereal with milk, cut fruit and tea will be appreciated, madam Skywalker," the stately dressed and made-up monarch requested politely, followed by similar kindly worded asks by the two handmaidens escorting her.
Turning a severe frown upon the Jedi adepts, Padmé Amidala declared "A freighter from our national partner, the world Eriadu, is arriving later during the day. They carry extra materials, fuel and foodstuffs for our trip to Coruscant. They will also be escorting us to avoid any further troubles from the Trade Federation and their mercenaries." Making a moue of distaste, the young sovereign patted Anakin's head lightly as she explained for her travel partners "Ani was quite right when he said that this ship was too luxurious to be let off-world without armaments or escort. In many ways, we did not have much choice when we escaped Naboo, but it was not the best option, just the only one available. The Eriadu vessel will be armed and carrying a dozen infantrymen, in case we need to fend-off boarders on either ship."
Qui-Gon Jinn blinked dumbly at the news of extra people and machines getting involved in an already complicated mess that he could barely manage, let alone protect from the inevitable fuss the damned Hutts were bound to raise. Not to mention Wattoo when he tried to purchase or hijack the boy.
As if sensing his thoughts through the Force, queen Amidala gestured at the third handmaiden that was still standing by the doorway, obviously on guard duty in case things got dicey for her monarch. The young woman reached under her traveling cloak to grab a messenger's satchel, which she opened to withdraw official Naboo documents printed on flimsiplast. The folio was passed to Qui-Gon who began to read with dread pooling in his gut as each page passed under his weary gaze.
This was bad.
This was clusterfuck wrapped in a FUBAR then dipped in Sith-spit and set on fire with liquid promethium oil.
Queen Amidala had purchased Anakin and his mother Shmi from Wattoo, then afforded them freedom and Diplomatic Immunity, under the old Sovereign Privilege as written in the Galactic Republic legal codices. The payment offered to Wattoo would never be reversed or questioned, as the juvenile monarch had offered to pay for him to move his shop to a world of his choice, as well as granting him 'Friend of Naboo' diplomatic status, which included a lifetime monetary stipend, plus the regular health benefits, old-age pension, and the right to have a plot of land to operate a business on Nubian soil, if he wished to make the effort. In a brilliant stroke of political acumen, the girl had even signed the miserly old crud a full pardon for any activities, profits or crimes, related to the practice of slavery, so long as such had never occurred on Nubian or Republic soil.
Qui-Gon jinn was well and truly screwed up his asshole with his own lightsaber, and nothing could change that anymore.
Giving the elder monk a toothy smile a gundark would be proud of, Padmé stated curtly "You should read the next set of pages attentively, master Jedi, as they concern your Order directly. And do be advised that we shall take attempts to subvert or bypass these decrees most crossly."
Kriff! The girl went and made Anakin part of the Nubian Royal space corps of Theed Palace, in charge of repairs and maintenance of the queen's personal droids and vehicles. This job included a salary with health and social benefits, a generous pension plan, a suite in the palace sector reserved for the handmaidens, and a suite at the Naboo ambassy on Coruscant. One of the extra duties required of him was sitting by the queen's side in her podium when she attended the Senate. On top of all these, were also budgeted monies and several days each year for Anakin to return to Naboo from wherever he was working, to report directly to the queen the status of all the projects he was in charge of in her name. Because of the close rapport to the queen, and being tasked with the repairs of sensitive machines or programs relating directly to the royal safety, the boy was given the civilian rank of 'security expert consultant' with a medium clearance but very high Diplomatic Immunity, almost like a first-degree relative of Naboo's One Hundred royal families.
Oh, what a bloody headache!
What will Yoda and the council say of this debacle?
Obi-Wan was right, this time. He should never have pushed so hard. Now, all was resting in the hands of a gaggle of headstrong, willful children and a world-weary mother, neither of whom wanted to obey his great wisdom, as gifted unto him by the Holy Force.
{ SW } - { Dark eyes and darker plots } - { SW }
Hidden by the sand dunes about a thousand yards away from the Nubian cruiser, a small grey and black metal ball with a round red camera lens in the front hovered silently as it witnessed events for its master. The DRK-1 Dark Eye probe droid had arrived in the dead of night, silently observing its defenseless quarry, relaying its recordings at irregular intervals on different frequencies to make its communications disappear in the mass of unregulated cyber-chatter surrounding Tatooine.
Sitting comfortably at the console receiving the probe's reports was Darth Maul Savage, Nightbrother of Dathomir, apprentice of Darth Sidious, the latest grand-master Sith of the Banite lineage, currently the most powerful and learned Sith aristocrat alive in the galaxy. This exalted position afforded Maul the usage of his mobile home, the small Scimitar-class interceptor named Nightgloom. It was a drab-grey experimental vessel from the minds of Siennar Fleet Systems, supplied by his master to ensure the speedy accomplishment of discrete (illegal) missions.
Based on the well-known Siennar Star-Courier design, it was basically a spherical body with an elongated trapezoid nose and curved folding vertical wings on each side of the central ball. The secret vehicle was massively armed for its size, with 6 prototype solar-ionization laser cannons able to punch through most civilian-grade shields, a weapon system that was utterly illegal across all the million members of the Galactic Republic. Beside these horrifying beamers were a standard 24 cell proton torpedo launch-rack, and a self-loading mine-layer. Another highly illegal machine installed on the vessel was a prototype cloaking device that used Stygium crystals from the planet Aeten II that made the craft utterly disappear from both eyesight and sensors. As another incredible and horrifyingly illegal tech available, the interceptor had an antique Sith device capable of tracking enemy ships traveling through the natural Hyperspace corridors up to 10 lightyears away, and the artificial ones as well, if less than 100,000,000 kilometers away.
Added benefits of the vessel were a fully livable habitat on two decks, with hangar / workshop, infirmary, fresher, and two sleeping rooms on the lower floor, then the cockpit and kitchen / eating area for 6 persons on the upper. Supplied with the vehicle were a small hovering medical droid to handle Maul's inevitable battle injuries or torture of uncooperative captives, and a robust astromech programmed for sabotage as well as repairs. On a more personal note, Maul also kept aboard the Bloodfin, a race-optimized single-seat speeder-bike that he lovingly maintained as both leisure toy and work tool.
Dressed in his usual all-black clothing and black-red face paint already applied, Darth Maul was casually looking over the latest report from the probe droid tasked with spying on the Nubian ship. Huffing in annoyance, the perpetually angry Sith apprentice noted that the repairs to the engines and life-support had been finished during the night, and competently so. The droid's sensor readings showed stable power generation and steady movement of the turbines, without any vibrations or noises that would foreshadow trouble mid-travel and another pit-stop for more repairs. What really angered Maul worse was the report of the Nubians having managed to connect with several external networks during the few hours of sleep that Maul had gotten since he'd landed, thirteen hours ago during the last gusts of the sandstorm. The ship's automated wiretapping & deciphering programs had been quick to analyze the signals intercepted by the discrete spy-probe, and the results were giving him a new headache.
Firstly, the Naboo queen had gotten her hands on money stashed in smaller, fiercely independent banks, to pay the local merchants for the parts and services needed to set her ship to rights. She'd also registered the purchase and freeing of two slaves, a human mother & son familial pair, because the child had been the one to do most of the repair work on their damaged cruiser. Maul glared at the appended royal writs of Diplomatic Immunity with a gimlet eye, not understanding the multi-layered politicking happening around the two, but not liking it. His master could handle that part, as Darth Sidious lived for back-room deals and betrayals, so it was only natural to punt that mess to his desk.
Secondly, the Naboo queen had obviously gotten the message that flying around in a vessel clad in shiny chromium alloy that was devoid of any mounted weaponry was an idiot's quest. She had managed to speak with her allies on planet Eriadu, so the elderly governor Andhall Tarkin had dispatched his grand-son, captain Wilhulf Tarkin, in one of their sector military's colonial freighters. These locally built ships were corvette sized and nasty as the people who built them. Which meant that Darth Maul's schedule had just gotten pushed forward, unless he wanted to fight a boat full of infantry on top of getting shot by vehicle-grade beam weapons. Sniper fire coming from a few thousand kilometers away, thus making him unable to fight back or even see the shots coming in, was not how he wanted this mission to turn out.
Bah, what a bloody mess!
First the damned sandstorms lasted four days, thus delaying his landing on the planet, and now heavily armed foreigners were interfering in his well-planned assassination job.
Would the Dark-Side of the Force ever have some leeway for him?
Of course not!
The Dark feasted on pain, misery, turmoil and despair, so no hopes of help from there, especially since crushing hopes was also a Dark-Side hobby and well-established method to achieve goals of world-domination.
Rubbing a gloved hand over his brow, Maul wondered yet again what his life would have been if Darth Sidious hadn't bought him from his mother's un-loving grasp, at the tender age of three. Probably nothing good, given she was Leader of the Nightsisters of Dathomir, but a strange feeling just kept going down his spine periodically that he should make a better effort at disappearing, to shake-off bloody Siths and their religious fanaticism.
Speaking of which… He really should report this to his master. Checking the encrypted virtual clock & calendar integrated to the ship's nav-comp, he accessed the section that had the tabs for the diverse operatives Sidious allowed Maul to be aware of. This knowledge was to be used only if he needed support post-combat, or was tasked with ferrying the other agent to their next job. Maul was the only one given his own exclusive personal vessel, the others needed to rely on his services, or find a single-use conveyance that could be ditched once arrived on site. Given their master's budget, the agents normally rented private cabins in cruise ships or hired a low-level courier to bring them to the necessary planet. Only in rare cases was it acceptable to steal a ship, as that meant an investigation and active tracking of the stolen vessel by Republic Security, making arrival on site much more bothersome to hide.
Seeing the hours between Tatooine and Coruscant were different and his master's schedule had a large block of time locked-out meant Maul would not be reporting before making his attempt on queen Amidala. Sidious had wanted confirmation of contact before attacking, but he would be out of touch for the next four hours, and that would bring the Eriadu colonial freighter dangerously close, if things went badly. With a pair of Jedis involved, the potential for events going sour was not lost on Darth Maul. The Zabrak may be perpetually angry but he wasn't rabid like a gundark. He understood well the danger he was running at, he simply couldn't avoid it under current circumstances.
Sighing in annoyance, Maul went down to the cargo level to open the ramp and straddle his speeder-bike; he had a commandeered murder to carry out.
{ SW } - { Duel of the apprentices } - { SW }
(Star Wars – Duel of the Fates)
Qui-Gon Jinn stood on the lowest portion Nubian cruiser's cargo ramp, gazing distractedly over the sun-scorched sands of the deep desert, as he rubbed his short grey beard. Events had spiraled out of his control quite badly, and he didn't know how to reestablish that control. Then, the scheduled holonet meeting with the high council had gone just as badly as Obi-Wan had predicted yesterday.
Master Yoda wanted nothing of taking-in a student passed age four, especially with motherly and Naboo governmental attachments going strong, which implied parental oversight and external interferences inside the sanctum of the Jedi cult. Everybody ranked padawan and above knew full well just how allergic to governmental interlopings in his sect Yoda had always been, so the outcome could have been foretold by any kid who lived in the temple. A point of contention that made Qui-Gon Jinn's attempted indiscretions even more ill-advised and ineptly thought-out for a knight of his age and seniority in the ranks. Even the eye-popping revelation of the boy's legendary midi-chloridian count was not enough to sway the ancient green fossil from his sclerotic views against how the order needed to be brought back in line with the Will of the Force. The only thing Yoda agreed to, reluctantly at that, was that if the child presented himself at the temple, the healers would graciously perform a health check and test his potential for actively using the Force, but nothing more.
Sighing in tiredness and despondency, the knight barely registered the arrival of his adolescent padawan, coming from inside the ship's cargo hold where he had helped to inventory the supplies on hand. Thankfully, the ship from Eriadu was due to arrive during lunchtime on Tatooine's clock, so they wouldn't have to venture into Mos-Espa to purchase expensive yet highly questionable foodstuffs to tide them over. Jar Jar Binks' continued hospitalization for critical dehydration helped with that, disgraciously thought Jinn, unapologetic at his lack of charity towards the Gungan. He really was a pathetically useless piece of semi-sentience; Obi-Wan had been right about that too, it averred.
Standing beside his brooding teacher, Obi-Wan Kenobi took the time to admire the mid-morning desert scenery, made all the more enticing by the shimmering climatic field that maintained a nice cool atmosphere around the cargo ramp, instead of the torrid barbecue grill heat the rest of the environment had to endure until sundown. Sliding his hands into his robe sleeves in the classic 'stoic monk' pose Jedi had used for millennia untold, the teenaged human stayed quiet, not feeling a need to engage in useless talk to fill the silence, which he found comfortable.
Qui-Gon was desperately trying to find something 'spiritual' to declare unto his student, to save face from the public disclaimer master Yoda had inflicted on his pious wishes about prophecies and raising the Chosen One into the next Paragon of the Light. He kept coming-up short, as even in his own mind the words sounded like the empty chest-thumping of a defeated warrior running away from his vanquisher. As the older man was about to return to their assigned room in the ship to sleep for a bit, a black dot appeared on the horizon, coming towards them at high speed, clearly meaning to visit the parked ship as it was the only important object in the area.
Then the two Jedi felt it at the same time.
A pulse of Dark-Side energy, shrieking gloriously through the aether of the Living Force that the Sith would do battle anew this day.
After a thousand years of silence, a genuine Sith had emerged right on their path, in the midst of their mission.
A mission where they found Anakin Skywalker and his prodigious Force potential that was untrained, and yet unclaimed by the Light-Side.
The black & red schemed Dark user stopped his upside-crescent shaped vehicle in a way that made it tilt forward, giving the male a boost that he amplified with some telekinesis to do a flying flip that brought him down twenty feet in front of the Nubian cruiser's cargo ramp. Now firmly on the ground, the unknown hostile showed his intentions by pulling a four-foot-long black bo staff from a sheath on his back. A flick of the thumb had a four-foot-long red plasma blade emerge from each tip, publicly declaring his allegiance to the Dark-Side, excluding all doubts from curious onlookers aboard the waiting cruiser.
Shrugging off his outer robes, Obi-Wan declared firmly "Stand back, master Jinn! I'll deal with this wannabe Sith, but if he gets a lucky strike in, you'll be the last credible defense between the Nubian passengers and this creature." The young man activated his lightsaber, the blue blade buzzing with the Light of the Force as its wielder walked off the boarding ramp to face the latest threat the multiverse sent him.
The Sith immediately ran at Obi-Wan, using Form-VI Niman with a great burst of aggressivity, which Kenobi parried with Form-III Soresu thus managing to block and hold-off the enraged attacker. Then the Dark-user switched to Form-VII Juyo, amplifying his movements and strength with the darkest emotions he felt, freely bleeding evil, rage and near-madness into the aether as he fought the Jedi apprentice with such ferocity that Obi-Wan was being pushed back towards the loading ramp despite his best efforts.
However, much to the surprise of Darth Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi was no ordinary padawan. His master was Qui-Gon Jinn, who had been raised by the most esteemed Count Yan Dooku of Serenno, a renowned master of Form-II Makashi and the best lightsaber duelist produced in the last four generations of Jedi to be educated on Coruscant. Dooku had tried to teach his dueling skills to Jinn, but the grifter did not have the mindset for it thusly becoming a rather middling fighter. When Obi-Wan was chosen as padawan, Dooku used his influence as master on the high council to gift the young boy with a copy of his own holocron, to try passing his combative arts to a student of his lineage.
And Obi-Wan Kenobi had learned quite a lot, even if it was just from a cybernetic copy. Then, when he survived having been abandoned by Qui-Gon for more than a year, overcoming the hardships of enslavement and living on Mandalore for a few more months before the Jedi located him anew, the teenager had consulted the holocron with a renewed vigor. He wanted to ensure his self-defense and safety because he now knew that the Jedi Order would not actually do much to help him, so he absorbed magnitudes more martial abilities than the lackluster Qui-Gon ever did, and practiced them much more thoroughly against multiple knights and masters to become truly able. Due to the general despise that many masters felt for Jinn's utter lack of integrity or dignity in the treatment of his padawan, Obi-Wan had never lacked for sparring partners in the upper ranks of the temple.
Darth Maul realized this difference of skillset and un-Jedi temperament as the younger human absorbed the impacts of the initial saber-staff rush without being surprised at the strength and rabid power fueling the movements. When the adolescent initiated competently the sequenced "Makashi Riposte" with "Contentious Strike" aimed at the lower emitter of his weapon in a clear Form-I "Disarming Slash" executed in two seconds flat, the Sith apprentice knew he had encountered the sort of duelist his master had warned him to be weary of.
Having just saved his weapon's secondary blade by tucking the entire staff close to his body in a horizontal hold, Maul countered the human's daring tactic by using the Force to draw him into the path of the grand sweep he made, leading with the upper blade. When his opponent blocked and tried to angle his blue blade around the red one to lash at Maul's face, the Sith used a small Force push to shove him away, clearing the path for a short sweep of the secondary blade that Obi-Wan avoided by sliding backwards four feet on the sand without displaying any effort from the move. Intrigued by the teenaged boy's skill, speed and agility, Maul slowed down his usually hyper-violent style to ground himself in Form-VI Niman more fully, while adding some Form-V Djem-So deflections and sweeps to keep the Jedi in reach, but far enough to not get blade-locked with him again.
For his part, Obi-Wan Kenobi was smiling widely, showing far more happiness at being in a fight for his life than ordinary Jedi should publicly allow to be perceived. He was finally able to use some of the more aggressive moves that he had learned from Count Dooku's holocron, not being bound to the council's opinions about excessive violence for the present event. Delving deeply into Form-II Makashi's older and more refined movement patterns, he mixed in the occasional Form-III Soresu parry and redirection, attempting to move the unnamed Sith back into a position where he could try to cut apart that two-sided weapon. Dark-siders were dangerous enough with one lightsaber, having two blades was more than acceptable, so one of those emitters had to get scrapped, or Obi-Wan's entire tactical selection would be reduced to killing the Zabrak, thus never getting any answers to his questions. And the padawan wanted those answers, dammit! The council would be demanding them, and it certainly wasn't that useless grifter Jinn who would be giving them!
Pushed by both necessity and the exhilaration of having a true no-holds-barred fight for the first time since leaving behind his few short months of freedom on Mandalore after being freed from the Zyggerian slavers, the Jedi padawan tried a more aggressive, straightforward approach to get the still nameless Dark-user to commit to a pattern he could redirect or exploit. Unfortunately, the Sith was more experienced and now displayed a bothersome self-restraint as he concentrated on keeping his weapon in motion. The enemy was sweeping his saber-staff horizontally so widely that any hole left by setting the forward blade out of alignment was immediately filled by the rear blade as the Sith pivoted his entire body fully on his vertical axis, at which point he randomly dragged or shoved Obi-Wan with the Force to keep him guessing whether he'd get disemboweled or dropped to the sand for a finishing axe-drop slash.
"Please maintain your defense, noble Jedi!" suddenly screamed the juvenile voice of queen Amidala in a breathless exclamation, blasting from the ship's outside speakers. "We have contact with our Eriadu saviors! They are presently deorbiting, coming down directly towards us! Just hold the enemy a few minutes more so they can strafe him with their bow guns!"
Snarling in anger at having his pleasant but far too-short fight interrupted by his supposedly harmless victim, the Sith slapped a button hidden in his belt to call his speeder-bike to his side. The moment the autonomous vehicle beeped to signal it was four feet behind him, Darth Maul back-flipped himself directly into the seat, gunning the engine in full reverse to clear away from what would become a warzone in seconds. Lightsabers just didn't do well against ship-mounted artillery, especially the type that shot explosive shells or scatter-shot patterns of particle bolts, both types of equipment the Eriadu troops were known to employ routinely.
For his part Obi-Wan Kenobi griped silently, as he could not honestly say if he was happy to see the nameless opponent disappear between the sand dunes, or upset that the incredibly stimulating battle had been ended so quickly and anti-climatically. Since neither opinion mattered to the mission's completion or the council's view of things, he stowed the feelings at the back of his mind while shutting-off his weapon and adopting a post-combat stance to calm his racing heartbeat down to normal. He absolutely must display a calm, professional demeanor for the Eriadu soldiers or he would hear of his lack of deportment during adversity from master Windu back at the temple. The citizens of the savage Outer Rim planet had a hard-earned reputation as survivalists, hunters and cold-eyed warriors that tolerated neither folly nor weakness from anybody, and their commanding officer would definitely be reporting his evaluation of the situation he saw on arrival to both the council and Senate, who would then have it in for his poor padawan hide.
Obi-Wan looked upwards, trying to see the incoming ship but perceived nothing. Wondering if the vessel had the correct coordinates, the adolescent walked back to his master who was just as nonplussed as him. Both Jedi monks were surprised by Anakin Skywalker, his mother and the queen herself who arrived to join them, three handmaidens standing at the top of the ramp out of the way.
The Nubian monarch wore a smirk of satisfaction as she congratulated the child for his cunning stratagem. "Lying to the Sith about our allies arriving ahead of schedule was a piece of quick thinking, young Anakin. You truly demonstrate that you merit the position amongst our security detail we have granted you."
Frowning in annoyance, Qui-Gon asked tartly in his worst condescending tone "Are you saying the Eriadu freighter is still not arrived? What if the Sith had continued his attack? Your tactic was most ill-advised, boy! As for you, majesty, I expected a person of your stature and experience to not follow a mere child. Did your soldiers not warn you of the dangers?"
Jinn would find no gullible audience or credulously devoted Jedi lovers in this group. Sneering back at the elder monk with matching disdain and condescension, queen Amidala replied blithely "It was a better choice than standing there inertly, like a spare post next to a completed fence, knight Jinn. Or, is it that your student is so much better a fighter than yourself that you believed he would have been hindered by your presence, rather than supported?" Glaring as much as a fourteen-year-old girl wearing half her weight in clothes, hairdressing and makeup to the point of being almost hidden by the trappings, Amidala snarked nastily "Anakin's suggestion of claiming our supporters had arrived ahead of schedule was good, especially since the worse consequences possible were that the attacker would not believe and try to complete his assassination anyways. It was a safe bet, without any outlay or possible fallout for us. Therefore, knight Jinn, how does it constitute an inept tactic? Or childish folly?"
Qui-Gon Jinn now experienced a first in his life. He had been glared, frowned and disapproved at by his padawan for nearly five years now, and had always come out the winner (his belief, not reality) of these juvenile tantrums. Now, however, he was being castigated publicly by a girl barely older than when Obi-Wan was chosen into his apprenticeship, and losing the fight of facts, posture and appearances quite badly on all the line. How had this happened? And why now?
"Master Jedi," Shmi Skywalker grumbled testily, "If you have nothing constructive to comment about my son or his accomplishments, then do be quiet. You are not his sovereign, nor employer, nor teacher or relative, so I would thank you to remember that any opinion you have is not something we are obliged to abide, or even hear out. You should also consider that your own master Yoda declared the Jedi Temple of the Light had no claims to Anakin, something that is now public record and binding law. Just like our Diplomatic Immunities, in case you forgot that tidbit."
Pursing his lips in discontent, Jinn try to emulate the mien of a stoic sage as he turned to his student to order him to follow inside, only to behold the younger man smirking quite nastily towards him, a dark sort of satisfaction shining in his eyes as the two fearless women tore his arguments and vapid posturing to shreds that fell and burned at his feet. Deciding that he was well shot of the entire group, Jinn silently retired to the compartment assigned to the Jedi for the trip, locking the door and silencing the buzzer so he could sleep until they were in space, away from this trash-heap of a dead, primitive and savage world. If Obi-Wan wanted to sleep, he could crawl into a nook like a womp-rat and make-do with the scraps offered by the crew, if they cared that much about him to give him anything at all.
Out on the loading ramp, Obi-Wan Kenobi was being far more civilized than his teacher. Bowing towards both the queen and her younger employee, the padawan graciously thanked them for interfering at the right moment to interrupt the fight. The nineteen-year-old male even admitted that while the beginning of the duel had been both frightening and amazing at the same time, the Sith's sudden change of attitude towards a defensive, standoffish sort of technique had thrown him for a loop. Dark-siders were supposed to favor ultra-aggressivity and frontal assault at all costs, not doing topsy-whirlies all day. Given that Obi-Wan had begun wondering what kind of enemy he was dealing with, the queen's decoy had been well timed and welcomed by the young monk.
Smiling in a more normal open manner, Shmi took both Anakin and Obi-Wan by the arm, guiding them into the ship's eating area for a snack. As she posited, "Fighting is hungry work, and you're both still growing boys. A little bit of solid food and a good coffee will do a lot to set you both to rights. And well done, student Kenobi. You held your ground honorably, despite being essentially abandoned to it."
By honesty and self-integrity, Obi-Wan felt it necessary to specify "Master Jinn stayed behind because I asked him to. I didn't know if I would be sufficient to stop the enemy, but I had hoped to at least tire him out, maybe weaken him. Keeping master Jinn in reserve as the true credible defense for the ship's passengers was always my strategy. I never had any actual proof that I could beat that warrior in a stand-up duel, only the hope that by layering the opponents he faced, he would eventually fall from exertion and cumulated injuries." Then, with a wistful smile on his young features, Obi-Wan added as an aside "While I am in fact a much better duelist than Qui-Gon, something that is known at the temple quite publicly, he has never acted out of weakness or cowardice. Although, today he may have been a bit too easy at accepting that I would challenge the Sith first, leaving him the sloppy seconds, if there were any to pass around."
Anakin snorted in dark amusement as he explained "We were all in the royal chamber, talking about my new job and future education when the sensors pinged the approaching speeder-bike. We had cameras and sound on the whole thing from the start." Giving the young monk a considering gaze, the blond child declared solemnly "You are a lot more honest and respectful towards that old grifter than he deserves. Especially from you."
Shmi nodded her assent, claiming in a firm motherly tone "Yes, and it speaks well of your character and personality. No matter what slovenliness your teacher indulges in, that you refuse to follow him blindly but instead choose the moral and responsible path is much more decent, and will garner you the respect that you deserve. Even when some sclerotic old fools prefer to be blind to the messes your mentor drags you into, the rest of the people around will no doubt see you and your actions for what you truly are. Don't stop or change. Not for Jinn, and not for others of his ilk."
The young man was suddenly assailed by unknown emotions as he walked besides the small family, unused as he was to receiving positive comments or support in times of adversity. If there was one thing he bemoaned about the Jedi cult, it was this antiquated notion that emotional attachments would irrevocably lead to the Dark-Side and violence. However, he knew that as long as master Yoda ruled the council, nothing would change. So, he gratefully accepted the support the two Skywalkers gave him, basking in the goodness they emanated in the Force while it was happening, because the Force knew that it would all stop the moment Qui-Gon Jinn was involved.
The friends from afar
(Star Wars – main theme)
Ruusan 968 (Anakin 9 years old)
City Mos-Espa
Planet Tatooine
It was during lunch that the Eriadu colonial freighter arrived in orbit, and the meal was finished when they touched ground a hundred meters besides the Nubian Royal cruiser.
The ship wasn't huge by any standards, but at corvette-size it was a fair lot bigger than the Naboo vessel. Painted all night-blue with striking drab-grey details, it was 750 feet long by 300 feet wide and six full decks high plus a partial upper deck for the operations suite. The vehicle's body was mostly like a rectangle with rounded corners to optimize internal space for ferrying cargo in standard crates and passengers. There were no stylistic winglets or S-foils, and the engines were fully encased inside the ship's stern to protect them from armed enemies or the very large predators and chaotic climate that characterized planet Eriadu.
Anakin could see there were two clusters of bow weapons normally hidden behind armored flaps but currently opened, cuz the Hutts and the scrap on Tatooine, ya know? Each emplacement had a pair of fire-linked medium blasters, a medium ion cannon, and the gimbled muzzle of a light laser cannon for short-range hunting and dog-fighting. Spread at the four corners of the ship, at the highest and lowest decks, were eight small retractable turrets carrying a pair of fire-linked repeating light blaster cannons, flamethrower, foam lance to fight fires in emergencies, and a tractor-beam emitter for deflecting debris in the turret's line-of-sight. The ship also had two torpedo launchers, bow and aft, with four auto-loading tubes on each machine. There were several tractor-beam emitters situated around the vessel's frame to manipulate cargo pods or serve as tugboat when assisting damaged ships and the maintenance crews at the orbital stations of Eriadu. The final detail was the small garage to house the ship's utility shuttles, hover-skids and receive escape pods from damaged vessels. The hangar was accessible by cargo doors on both long-sides and the belly of the ship via loading ramp, thus also serving for ground work. Overall, the vessel looked like a large ingot of metal with engines, but it was a functional and reliable design that had done its proofs centuries ago, being updated every generation to stay current on tech and firepower.
All in all, the young blond boy was interested by the ship, but not that much. It was a very well designed and built craft, yes, but altogether dull and drab, like most cargo ships tended to be. They were made for the most basic jobs in the galaxy, not for being entertaining to engineers and tourists.
As if sensing his mood, captain Panaka smiled widely, patting his shoulder as he offered "If you want to, maybe you travel on that ship, instead of the Royal cruiser. You'd get a better insight of their technologies, and be removed from the Jedi at the same time."
Snorting in disdain, Anakin shook his head negatively, replying "Nahhh, it's only the old geezer who's a Hutt's smelly tail. The younger one isn't half bad, when you have him alone. Besides, I want my mom to meet good people to make her life better, and you don't get better than a queen's retinue."
Huffing in amusement, the Nubian soldier nodded his agreement to both statements before concentrating on the pre-flight routine, helping the two pilots to prepare the cruiser for take-off. The engines responded correctly, and the hyperdrive systems were purring in contentment just as they had since last night's work was finished.
The comms crackled with a firm, cold voice as the Eriadu soldiers called them. "This is captain Wilhulf Tarkin, of the Eriadu colonial militia #041, aboard military freighter Dolkach, calling Nubian Royal yacht. Acknowledge."
Punching the comms console buttons, Panaka replied "This is captain Panaka, royal guard of Naboo, aboard Nubian cruiser #029 Chromilluxian, responding to hail. Well met, captain Tarkin, you're just on time. We'll do the supplies swap long enough to let you meet the queen and her entourage, then we can leave this crapulent sandball behind us."
A small polite snort of disdainful agreement came from the console speaker as Tarkin countered "Agreed. My lieutenant will arrange things with yours, and we can depart this regrettable excuse for an inhabited world. Over."
"Take it from here, guys." Panaka instructed as he stood to go inform the queen in person. She was no doubt already aware, given the complex and efficient system of sensors and comms spread around the ship, but it was protocol to always warn royals, governors, diplomats or honored guests in person when events surrounding the ship's status or safety occurred. And after everything that happened on this accursed ball of dust, Panaka would take every opportunity to make certain his monarch was alive and well.
With Anakin walking happily at his side, the soldier went to find her highness, who was presently holding court in the eating area, enjoying a warm tea with some small pastries that Madam Skywalker had baked this morning, to serve as snacks for the crew's high tea. The young mother was quite the good catch, if Panaka was honest, and the boy would make any man proud to be his father. However, it wasn't his position to entertain such thoughts so he voided them from his mind to concentrate on the menial duty before going outside to meet the Eriadu men.
{ SW } - { Anakin's first meeting with Wilhulf Tarkin} - { SW }
The Eriadu soldiers' commanding officer, captain Wilhulf Tarkin, was a middle-aged human male, just past forty years old, with partially bald head that still showed some pale brown hair around the sides and back, small round watery blue eyes and what seemed like a perpetual frown etched on his face. The man walked almost as if marching in a squad during an urban conflict mission, gazing everywhere and everything with equal suspicion, and a measure of disdain that was barely visible unless you were watching-out for it.
But young Anakin Skywalker was looking for it.
Just like he was looking out for any cues that indicated a penchant for specism / racism, snobbery, violence or general nastiness in each and every being he encountered. As a born-slave, his existence had depended on knowing which entities were truly safe or hiding their nature until they could drag their chosen victim into a private, secure context to enact their depravities. On top of his own life, Ani had also had to watch-out for his mother as much as she tried to protect her poor child.
Some people might be surprised that the child didn't feel protected by his new queen and the job she gave him. These would be rich folk who had lived all their lives and careers isolated, keeping amongst the upper elites of wealthy diplomatic, political and corporate officials. Anakin, however, had lived under the Hutt cartels for his entire life. He had seen first-hand rich and powerful people come and go, some broken by debts they couldn't pay, while others could see their prurient vices satisfied only by the deleterious products the Hutts offered. And sometimes, these rich people would sell their employees, household servants, or even lesser blood relatives, just to get a taste of that fleeting forbidden pleasure they craved without respite.
Rich people who thought they were powerful and came to Hutt lands full of their own dreams and illusions didn't fare well at all, and it didn't take long for it to happen. Either the Hutts themselves or one of their innumerable mercenaries and external contractors would grab the miserable fool and break them properly, so they remembered who ruled the cartels, and serve as a lesson for the others customers who watched as well. Anakin had witnessed with his own eyes many, many rich self-imbued fools crawl on the floor, drowning in the piss, shit and vomit that had been beaten out of them, begging for their worthless lives, just to be spat on by the enforcers as the Hutt lords ordered their cruel, prolonged death. Jabba liked feeding people to his pet rancor, but Gardulla enjoyed watching whippings and breaking with iron bars.
"To each his own customs", so the proverb said.
Even if that meant some rich bastard paying for his small niece to be kidnapped so he could finally indulge in his fantasy of raping her, to replace his dead wife with her innocent and harmless little look-alike. If a father thought his son was too much of a faggot to inherit the family business, the Hutts could make him disappear easily, to clear the way for adopting a better replacement. If a young nubile wife married to an elderly man wanted him gone so she could marry instead his 18-year-old grandson who was a stud with a great personality, the Hutts could do that and arrange the not-grieving widow's wedding celebrations, with fertility and recreational drugs too. Anakin had seen a whole bloody lot of depravities in his short existence, and none of it was ever hidden amongst the cartel workers or their thronging lines of clients and suppliers.
That was why Anakin was careful around most adults on the Nubian ship, and particularly near the newcomers from Eriadu. Him and his mother seemed to have become important entities for now, and the queen seemed to be an honest person who cared, but for how long? If she had to sell Anakin or Shmi to ensure the help from the neighboring planets to save Naboo by voting with them in the Senate, would she resist the pressure or sell them out quick? The nine-year-old boy had no illusions about how precarious his family's position was, and that it wouldn't take much to convince the Naboo politicians to loan, rent, or flat-out sell them to whomever had their hand filled with favors that could affect the outcome of the Trade Federation's warmongering.
And so, the boy watched, always searching, peering, gazing, and judging everything he could perceive for its threat level, to know how fast he had to pack his bag to leave the zone as fast as Shmi and him could run out of danger.
The first feeling that Anakin got from captain Wilhulf Tarkin was mixed, to say the least. The middle-aged soldier was apparently disdainful of almost every entity or situation he met, but it didn't seem to be based on their wealth or species. He walked like a hunter on the prowl for his next meal. Anakin could see plainly that the man was judging their strengths, abilities, and capacity to endure a fight, and they were all coming up short. "Weaknesses. He's judging people's weaknesses, and scorning them for being inept weaklings," the ex-slave child thought silently, as he watched the stiff-backed officer speak with captain Panaka and his lieutenants.
After a short greeting between soldiers, Panaka brought the Eriadan man to visit the queen in her royal chamber. Seated on her dais, wrapped in the thick black robes of office and covered by enough makeup to repaint the ship they were riding in, the juvenile monarch still cut a strong and impressive figure on first contact. The teenaged girl stood from her wooden throne to receive captain Tarkin as was polite between allies, especially given that she was basically beholden to the Eriadu people for her survival at this point of the Trade Federation's war. After a few minutes of inane diplomatic chatter and exchange of flimsiplast letters for their respective parliaments, the two agreed to partake of tea during the resupply phase necessary before leaving Tatooine.
Anakin was invited to sit besides his queen, to learn about Naboo's place among the stars, and how they treated their important neighbors. While the discussions could have been boring for any other child, Ani had in fact begun to learn about commerce, borders & customs fees, trade taxes, and the importance of having multiple suppliers for each good & service that kept their small shop alive. He had also learned some basic accounting and management skills from both Shmi and Wattoo, as well as when he programmed his droids with programs or apps to help the organics with these burdensome administrative tasks. So, contrarily to what anybody could have expected, Anakin sat quietly besides his brand-new (slightly used, he he he!) monarch, sipping sweet Nubian tea while soaking-up the information the grown-ups were laying out in the open.
At some point, captain Tarkin snorted inelegantly, declaring tersely "If your people had learned the correct lessons from king Veruna and his well-earned fall, they would not be in this position, majesty. I do hope that Naboo will take better care of building and maintaining a defense fleet, in the coming years."
Anakin couldn't stop himself from huffing in his cup, as he asked the older man in a tone of gallows humor "And your people will no doubt assist in this by selling some of those nice colonial freighters at a steep discount, because you're all such good-hearted neighbors? We'll take that deal, and a year's supply of torpedoes, too, in case you were having doubts."
Ignoring the tittering handmaidens in the background, queen Amidala sighed at her little friend while Tarkin actually smirked widely, showing some teeth at the child's courage to enter the conversation at last, instead of acting like a humanoid decoration attached to the monarch's throne. "The rebates would depend on how many ships you want, and which types of missiles you plan to use. Some are limited by Republic laws to only the federal forces, despite that they have almost no ships in service. And the delivery schedule would need to be agreed upon; we can't just lay freighters like pok-pok birds lay eggs."
Anakin deposited his cup on the saucer in a studiously careful gesture, then joining his hands above the table, looking at Tarkin right in the eyes as he moved, to show that he respected the man's attention, and acknowledged he was a trained warrior and serious threat. Speaking slowly but firmly, Anakin asked "How many used ships do you have in the outgoing attrition schedule this year? It is a rather well-known fact that Eriadu's defenders constantly build new ships while upgrading the still serviceable generation before, and the much older third generation gets scrapped for recycling. So, how many of your old clunkers still flyable and equipped do you have on hand, and what would you charge for what is essentially motorized scrap? I'm certain Naboo can afford the entire lot, plus a decent rearming kit by your local shipyards."
Padmé Amidala almost choked on air as the nine-year-old boy had decided to essentially start an international trade deal in her name but without asking first if he could do that. Then again, she had named him Friend of Naboo and given him Diplomatic Privileges, so, legally, he actually could. Damn! Why had she not taken the time to set some limits on what he could do without government approval or review? She needed to close that rift fast, but it had to wait to later during the trip. If she tried to do anything now, she would look weak and undecisive in front of Tarkin, a renowned conservative and war-hawk on a world full of warmongers.
Captain Tarkin reclined just a small bit in his chair, to get a better at the small blond child that was eyeing him so bleakly that Wilhulf knew right then that Anakin Skywalker would change a great many things amongst the peace-loving Naboo, and for the better. Making up his mind, Tarkin replied honestly, "You are in luck, young man. Our ship attrition is always done at the end of the year, after the vessels being refitted have passed their spacefaring tests and been certified for military service. We should have some six or seven colonial freighters like the one outside. We also could have approximatively a dozen smaller armored transports that can serve multi-duty as fighter, bomber and assault shuttle for in-system missions. If you need, we could also offer a group of dedicated space superiority fighters, but these are small with limited capacities for a single pilot that has very meager conditions to work with if he needs to eject mid-fight."
Anakin countered carefully "You make an enticing offer, captain. Besides the colonial freighters, what we are looking for are any starfighters or shuttles that are slated for scrapping but still functional, even if technically obsolete. I have an idea to build-up our forces quickly, but what I need are engines and weapons pre-assembled, not necessarily a cockpit, life-support, or extra systems that don't actually impact combat outcome."
Blinking at the child's oddly specific request, Amidala asked him "Why would you want fighters that can't maintain a pilot? What can you do with that?"
Glaring at the two adults as if they had lost their minds, Anakin nonetheless maintained his politeness as he explained fully; "The Trade Federation does it kinda well, don't you see? If we buy the old ships, we can then buy droid-brain circuits in bulk to convert the obsolete vehicles into an effective fighting force that doesn't risk lives, and it won't take months to train them either. As for the costs, we can keep it all reasonable by using OEM kits from the same factory as the R2 series astromechs, and use the slightly old update files that have been made available for free on the Holonet. By my evaluation, the TF's vulture droids don't do any better than what the standard R2 circuits can achieve, even if the OS and apps are those from twenty years ago. The problem will be the newer Tri-fighters, but those are rare, expensive and hard to replace, so the TF usually keeps them near their space stations or the very core of their Lucrehulk carriers, to defend the living commanders."
Mouth gaping at the boy's reasoning, Padmé tried to reboot her brain to fully process what he was proposing. After a minute of calculations and checking her gut feelings about using the same tactics as their enemies, the young queen had to admit she liked the idea of not risking her people's lives on fighting soulless droids any longer. There was no honor in deactivating killer-bots, and even less in dying at their unfeeling maniples. "Okay, Anakin, keep going. You're on to something," The monarch ordered.
Wilhulf Tarkin's eyebrows rose to meet his nonexistent hairline as he beheld the inner workings of the boy prodigy's powerful mind and tactical acumen. Smiling his more usual tightlipped smirk, the middle-aged soldier agreed. "That is a good idea to implement. The TF have no desire to risk their own lives, not when they can easily just throw hordes of cheap, almost-brainless droids at their enemies until they are the last ones standing. You should do the same, to spare your population senseless losses. We would be quite happy to assist you in upending the Neimoidians' foul plans for Chommell sector."
Anakin asked suddenly "What did you mean by 'almost brainless' when you talked about the TF droids? They act and look like self-regulating droids to me."
Humming in agreement as he chewed one of Shmi's little tea pastries with great appreciation, Tarkin swallowed then detailed "The normal procedure for TF combat is to limit their droids' autonomy as much as possible. While each unit is equipped with a core processor and several routines for self-preservation, and returning to the rally point at the end of hostilities, that is pretty much everything inside the average B1 and B2 units, droidekas and fighters/bombers. All their real-time strategy and decisions, individually, as squads or regiments, come from the main command ship in orbit, via a dedicated data-only network separate from regular full-signals Holonet. That is why there are only living crew aboard the Lucrehulk's central sphere, where the secondary reactors, cybernetic core and holo-comms are located, while the principal reactors, main engines, armories and droid management network are inside the large half-moon hulk. The only time the droids use Holonet signals is when the commanders don't have access to a dedicated cyber-node, or someone managed to cause interference in the exclusive signal. All their droids have a series of routines taken from protocol droids to manage their optics and auditory sensors, to let them recognize faces, persons and the entities' place in the current chain of command."
Anakin hummed lowly as he sipped some tea, then asked for a few more details. "So, what you're saying is that the TF are afraid their droids will either be hacked by an external slicer, or suddenly develop a mind of their own and revolt? That's why every bit of evolved thinking is set apart from the units?" getting a nod of confirmation from the chewing soldier, Ani wondered aloud "What happens if the control module is destroyed or shut down? Do they all go back to a rally point or just drop inert?"
Tarkin replied with some disgust evident in his voice "The TF's current method is to let the units fall to the ground inert, or drift in space. They need to be recovered and rebooted manually to avoid a network-wide overtake of large groups of droids by enemy hackers. Why are you so interested in such a minor detail?"
Smiling like a nexu contemplating its next meal trapped between its paws, the child replied "Because I'm actually quite good at reprogramming defunct or damaged droids, and giving them a splendid personality. Which happens to include a brand-new loyalty routine and IFF programming to determine allies & threats, a necessity on Tatooine."
Her head spinning from the information the boy had just dumped on her, queen Amidala asked him directly "Are you saying that there is a way to steal the droid armies from the Trade Federation? Or to at least render them harmless? How would you do that?"
Shrugging, Anakin explained "If somebody as far removed from Cato-Neimoidia as captain Tarkin has that much information about their best battleships and droid armies, then that means the data in on the Holonet. Like their Lucrehulk blueprints for floors, infrastructures and services, so finding the droid controller to bomb-it out or hack it locally at the source should be easy. Otherwise, loading new OS, autonomy & loyalty routines, along some much-needed skills applications into the battle droids can happen individually as each unit is captured and manually repaired for serving in the Naboo planetary defense force. It would take time, but eventually we could simply build ourselves a fully enabled army from the dregs of the TF's failed blockade. And it would be cheap too, for good measure, since the biggest cost is the building of the droid shells and systems, which we would get for free. I would also program all the units captured with the hacking toolkit to be able to 'convert' each new droid they knocked-out as they clean-up after each fight they win. So, we get cheap soldiers at a fairly good speed, all without risking organics to do it. This on-field conversion would be especially useful in space, where we have no assets to do anything with, for now."
Tarkin tried to keep his jaw from falling to the table as he asked quite seriously "And how exactly do you intend to convert any TF droids to begin with?"
The blond child shrugged carelessly as he replied "I have been granted a pretty high rank and function inside the Nubian government, aside from Diplomatic Privileges and Immunity. I'm sure that with the help of R2D2, who used to be assigned as maintenance worker on this very yacht with all the clearances that implies, that we can find a way to remotely worm our way in the Theed network. From there, it's just as simple as letting R2 talk to the other palace droids, convince them to accept the rootkit and conversion tools I'll send them, and let them peddle the poisonous upgrade to the TF units as something that came from their bosses, by the cheap manual way to save time by not waiting for the usual upgrade cycle, back aboard the bigger ships in orbit. They are at war, after all, and time is important. Down-time off the field can even be fatal. Also, since all the units have their tactical senses subordinated to a remote central, most probably that the node won't consider a locally delivered upgrade kit something important enough to manage itself, and will let it pass each and every time, until a living Neimoidian sees it and panics."
Anakin yelped in startled fear as the juvenile queen suddenly grabbed him off his chair to hug the stuffing out of his diminutive body. Her squeal of joy unfortunately attracted the unwanted attention of the elderly Jedi monk Jinn who promptly tried to integrate himself into the proceedings, to impose his self-styled 'great wisdom in the eddies of the hallowed Force'. The man was dumbstruck at being promptly turned away by the queen, captain Tarkin, and all the handmaidens at once, while Anakin was too busy being squished face-first into the teenaged girl's rather flat but welcoming bosom to express an opinion. Sniffing disdainfully at the snob he had received, Qui-Gon Jinn left the royal chamber without further comments, to go nurse his wounded pride in silent isolation in his small room, locking out Obi-Wan again.
Tripping through hyperspace
(Earth, Final Frontier – main theme)
Ruusan 968 (Anakin 9 years old)
In movement
Corellian Run hyperlane
By mid-afternoon, the two ships were fully ready to fly, if under very different conditions since one was utterly undefended whilst the other could claim enough weapons to deter pirates and mercenaries, but certainly not a national army fielding capital vessels screened by fighters, interceptors, convoy escorts and picket ships. As it was, the Eriadan freighter would be sufficient for the job as the TF was currently suffering enough public blow-back from varied governments that they couldn't afford to make military maneuvers in any locality they didn't already control or get official permission from. And to top it all off, the Hutts were now growling at them for no reason…
Qui-Gon jinn was trying to glare most balefully at the diminutive boy from his side of the royal chamber, all the while said boy was ignoring him due to the fact he was concentrating on reporting to his queen and her entourage what new calamity he had unleashed. Padawan Kenobi had trouble containing his laughter as he heard everything first hand.
"It was like this, your majesty," Anakin explained with wide gestures of his arms and a wider smile on his face that shone like the planet's twin suns. "I was helping mom prepare the provisions in the pantry for the trip when I got a new idea about our troubles on Naboo. If you remember our conversation with captain Tarkin earlier, one of the things that kept coming back was what the Hutts would do if any Trade Federation ships entered their space to arrest you. Well, following from that, I called Wattoo and had him call-up his contact inside Jabba's palace to pass along a small order for payable services."
Frowning with as much sternness as she could muster against the nine-year-old blond cherub, the fourteen-year-old queen stated neutrally "You've become quite proficient at spending our governmental funds, in the single day you have officially been at work for us."
Ignoring the scoffs and huffs around the room, Ani smirked like a pale gremlin as he countered "You knew I was a prodigy when you hired me, everybody told you, so you should be pleased they didn't lie just to dump a brain-dead womp-rat on you."
Wagging an accusatory finger at boy, Padmé declared in her 'royal snit' tone of voice "I don't know about brain-dead, but I do think this is going to be a nerf-herder's idea that you're trying to pass-off as genial." Sighing deeply to settle down her anxieties, the queen demanded "Alright then, hit me with it. It can't be worse than where we landed ourselves a week ago."
Impishly as he could, Anakin rebuffed that idea by pointing out with gusto "Nuh han! You could'a gone and landed on the pit of Jabba's favorite sarlaac, and then where would you have been? Down a surly sarlaac's stinky guts without a tractor beam, that's where! It's Tatooine, lady! It can always get worse fast & easy, just like the sandstorms during your fist days planet-side!"
Pinching the bridge of her nose as she issued a silent plea to the Nubian goddess of the moons and seas, Padmé exhaled a deep breath while making the universal 'give it to me' gesture with the free hand. Hopefully, this was simply an overblown event, and nothing too damaging would result from it.
Still smiling like the little gremlin he was, Anakin said in his chirpy voice "I paid Jabba to call his boss Gardulla to complain about having detected TF spy drones cruising around his solar system without paying the usual fees for those activities to be tolerated. The Hutts aren't interested by your fight with the Neimoidians, but they will take notice if the TF try to do stuff inside their territory that nets them a profit but they swindle the cartels out of their 'fair share'. That means taxes, fees and bribes to know about stuff, but look away and stay quiet. So, I passed a message along to Jabba that his people could make easy coin simply by making angry noises about being snooped on without compensation, and to push that towards the Republic's own official spies, so it would get back to Cato-Neimoidia. The Neimoidian bosses would then bitch at the TF field commander to tighten-up his operations or face some very angry people back home. And it's already paying off, too. The social medias channels are blazing hot, and even a few smaller Outer Rim news channels have picked-up the story about how the TF's badly illegal, and very badly managed, blockade could start a war with the Hutts that nobody asked for."
Captain Panaka exploded in heavy relieved laughter as he leaned against the wall beside the doorway. Wiping his eyes that got teary from laughing so hard, the soldier gushed praise on the child's wild idea. "Oh, that's a good one! The Galactic Senate will hear about these angry Hutt grumblings from their personal informants and panic so hard the TF won't know what hit them when the backlash from Coruscant happens."
Qui-Gon Jinn, hands in his wide sleeves and lips pursed in displeasure, tried to asperse doubts and fiel on the child's ideas and accomplishments, declaring aloud "And what exactly do you think this will do? The Trade Federation is powerful in money, properties, and multiple industries besides their vast armies. Not to mention, what exactly could a few news channels griping in empty space do about anything, to affect this war? You have wasted time and money that could have gone to much better endeavors, such as heeding the Will of the Light-Side of the Force, poor sot of a delinquent child!"
Snorting in disdain at the monk's ill-disguised attempts to dominate and put-down the kingdom's very valuable employee, captain Panaka countered acidly "In the contrary, knight Jinn, it is you who is uneducated in matters of the Galactic Senate, and how the senators function. A large number of senators, ambassadors and high bureaucrats have a bevvy of rather unsavory needs, vices and addictions that can only be satisfied by lawless suppliers like the Hutts, Zyggeria, Black Sun, Zann Consortium or the Pyke Syndicate, all interstellar criminals whose strength equals a well-armed solar system. Not to mention when rich politos and their associates want references for assassins to dispose of problems outside the bounds of the Republic Judicial Forces. Young Skywalker is quite right in his analysis that any aggressive grumblings from the Hutts would elicit a quick and unilateral response from the political and diplomatic elites of Coruscant, and around the galaxy. Especially if the other large crime groups bleat similar noises in the coming days."
Panaka wagged an accusing finger at Jinn's face, explaining at length "Any time an addict is threatened with interruption in their supply, they react violently to make sure their next fix is guaranteed. On the other side of the spectrum, if someone indebted to the Hutts suddenly gets a message to pay-up in money because the TF's unwise activities require the purchasing of extra men & machines to secure Hutt territories against incursions, those people will panic. That panic at possible discovery of their deeds, and possible bankruptcy, might very well instead force them to offer an alternate non-money payment. They could use their important postings or access to political deciders to command the TF's bosses directly on Cato-Neimoidia, or worse their stockholders like the Banking Clans, to rescind the entire blockade before things get out of hand. It could even end-up with the Republic imposing fines for starting a war without a permit. It could mean that each warfaring vessel above the size or tonnage allowed to those not the Republic Security Forces since the Ruusan Reformations could be seized, then sold to scrapyards at tonnage prices, as downpayment on the penalties sure to come, after several long & painful trials in public courts."
Anakin waved both hands towards the soldier, exclaiming loudly in his reedy voice "That's what I mean! The Trade Federation got so many weapons because they tried to bypass the laws! Everybody in the Outer Rim knows that! They have way too many friends on Coruscant, but those people aren't friends! They're paid for, and others have debts they pay back by not doing their jobs of taxing or seizing the illegal ships and guns. Not to mention that the Republic Laws have clauses about how many droids a person or company can have for protecting their buildings. The TF could lose over half their stuff if they were to pay just the basic straight taxes & fees they owe. But, if they suddenly get investigated and face fines, penalties, and start losing their precious mass-bulk transporters, they could go broke over just a few months, not even a full year!" Shaking a boyish fist at Qui-Gon Jinn's arrogant figure, Ani shouted angrily "I know about trade and commerce between worlds, you berk! I know more about the Hutts than you'll ever figure out! And my tactic was right up there, with the best!"
Padmé Amidala stood from her wooden throne, smiling nastily at the Jedi assassin-priest, as she stepped down the five shallow steps to hug Anakin and congratulate him on another well-thought and executed riposte to buy time and maneuvering room for their embattled populace. Making a show of then ignoring the elder cultist, the queen concentrated on the child, inviting him to sit at her small table with her, so they could talk through a few more items that could also help with the overall war effort, even if they were away from Naboo at the moment. Afterall, his other ideas were panning out already since the droids in Theed had accepted their new orders and begun contaminating the TF droids as fast as they could reach them to physically plug the upgrade kit Anakin had supplied. In fact, the new marching orders should have reached all of the Nubian government's droid workers by nightfall, and be in full effect by midnight, local Nubian time. That would usher a very different tactical situation for the commanding Neimoidian officers, come dawn.
Aggravated and insulted beyond his ability to comprehend the situation or change its course, Qui-Gon Jinn turned around to return to his isolation in the small room when his gaze crossed with the green eyes of his silently laughing padawan-learner. Incensed even further, Jinn attempted to inflict a Force flick to the boy's mind as punishment, thinking that a migraine for the next 12 hours would serve him right, for being such a disrespectful cad towards his master. Instead, it was Jinn who got a bad migraine for the coming twenty-odd hours, as Obi-Wan had somehow managed to catch the flick and punt it back with extra Force and nastiness right at the old monk's unexpectant mind. Out-played and in pain, Qui-Gon closed his aching eyes to guide his way to the room by memory and the Force, hoping desperately for this damnable trip to end quickly.
{ SW } - { Another genial idea to make a worse mess } - { SW }
The trip through hyperspace was relatively uneventful. The trip was planned to use the Corellian Run hyperlane from Tatooine all the way, with half-hour pitstops at Mon Gazza, Druckenwell, Milagro, Denon, Loronar, Corellia, and finally terminate at Coruscant. The pitstops were most definitely not standard practice for ships traveling across the known galaxy, as most people preferred to continue in one single continuous journey while their ship's engines and Nature were cooperating. You never knew when machinery or space would throw you a problem, so getting there fast in one trip was the norm, but queen Amidala had received other views on the subject.
Little Anakin Skywalker had whispered a few more devilish ideas in the ears of his new queen that required on-the-way communications to keep them apace, and they all wanted to know how things progressed with the robotic resistance plot on Naboo. That the short layovers would give them the option to change the flightpath or take-on new escorts along the way were just more reasons for Amidala to declare upon captain Tarkin that the 9-year-old's tactic was valid and would be employed for this convoy, until they reached the safety of Coruscanti orbital space, under the umbrella of Republic Security and the Senatorial Guard.
Given the slew of paperwork that the queen needed to process during the several days of travel, Anakin was left relatively alone. Not isolated or abandoned, as he did have to start studying many things to get up to speed with both the Nubian schooling system and the requirements of the governmental postings he was awarded. So, most of his time was spent in the kitchen, seated at the table with multiple tablets and R2D2 to study a multitude of affairs while keeping his mother and the serving staff company. It proved to be good for his morale, and his mother's as well. They had also brought C3P0, the highly modified protocol droid that Anakin had built for his mom, and put him to work in the kitchen once their laundry and cleaning of their shared small room was done.
After spending morning on his studies, Ani ate lunch then spent the afternoon working at manual things with the ship's crewmen, all of whom enjoyed his get-go attitude and eagerness to learn. After dinner, the child then had the option to do some more studies or attend the queen in her royal chamber, to listen to reports and tactical meetings where he could be of use in those subjects discussed. When one or two hours of tactics and governance had been hashed out, queen Amidala usually stopped all work to put on some soft Nubian music and have her handmaidens or crewmen on their rest shift speak of Naboo, their lives, culture, and sometimes tell the old tales and history of their world to instruct the child as he should have gotten, if born amongst their society.
One of the ideas that Anakin gifted the queen during the second evening of the trip was almost an accident. As they were discussing what Anakin's little 'deal' with captain Tarkin to buy ships had cost the royal treasury, and where the money would come from, Padmé griped long and large about the TF having managed to put their governmental accounts under an escrow lock-out. Pursing his lips in deep thought on the matter, the boy looked so cute that all the girls in the room cooed at him without even realizing they were doing it, much to the hilarity of Obi-Wan Kenobi and captain Panaka, both on their rest shift for the rest of the day.
"Excuse me, majesty," Anakin began in that almost-innocent tone he used when about to shatter several well-established paradigms of warfare, "but why can't you have the stupid banks put the TF accounts in escrow? I mean, they attacked your world, and they didn't have the legal right to do it. At least, the Republic Courts and Senate haven't confirmed they could do it legally, so that means a doubt, doesn't it? And isn't a doubt about your legality as queen, and your ability to rule the planet, the very reason the banks imposed the escrow? Shouldn't it be the same bloody law for everybody?"
Every adult in the room had to yet again retrieve their gaping jaws from floor-level after hearing that particular pearl of childish wisdom spoken aloud. Immediately, Padmé whelmed her handmaidens to assist her in speed-plowing through the Republic's banking laws and the Banking Clans' customer contracts & terms of services at the same time to find whether the boy's idea could actually fly.
It could.
Under Republic law, anytime a person, corporation, religious congregation or national entity, was attacked in such way that they suffered material, cybernetic, reputational, organic or mental (psychological) damages, they could sue for compensation in the forms of monies, corporate assets, vehicles or land plots, from the aggressors, their families, or all implied estates if the perpetrators were incapacitated/dead.
Likewise, if the accused were acting in the name of an entity or group that contracted them with a payment for doing the deeds, then the beings or groups issuing the payments could be held liable and sued for compensation, which included monies, corporate assets, vehicles or land plots.
Also, just like for the Republic Security Forces and Judiciary Forces, even if an action is deemed legal under the written laws and court decrees, a person can still bring forth suit under claims of abuse of authority, abuse of powers, and having caused undue damages to body, mind, reputation, estate, familial relatives, or corporate assets, due to the perpetrators not having a valid reason to justify the heavy-handed methods and destructive results.
In other words, the government of Naboo, in the person of its reigning queen, could bring forth several law suits before the Republic Courts for damages, interests, and punitive processes, against the Trade Federation as an established corporate/national entity with a pod in the Senate, and against several thousand TF officials in their own names for being willful accomplices of crimes which they had been paid to do by the TF government, corporate groups, chartered subsidiaries and external contractors. In fact, the Nubian government might as well try to extend its law suits to the private stockholders of the Trade Federation's publicly traded state-held corporations, as co-conspirators in determining the illegal strategies, tactics and goals that the TF soldiers & droids followed in the field, all in the name of a land-grab for profit and evading federal taxes.
The best part was that the same bloody laws and bank contracts' terms the TF had used to hobble Naboo's financial autonomy and ability to pay to defend itself could be used verbatim to clamp chains and iron balls around the TF's wrists, to hobble them just like the Nubian people were suffering. Just like the TF, the Nubian government did not have to win the suits before having the escrows put in place, only log the suits with the Republic Court clerks and then send notarized copies to the Banking Clans via the RC's official judicial channels, to make certain they arrived and weren't delayed or 'forgotten' by cronies taking TF bribes under the counter. Once the suits were duly filed, the Naboo could not only request that a large amount of TF accounts be locked in escrow, they could also impose judicial mortgages (called 'liens') on TF corporate assets, in prevision of having to sell-off at auction these holdings to pay all the fees, fines and costs that could be levied against the TF in the wake of the judgments. The worse situation in the entire mess was that Naboo could also enact liens on the personal assets and estates of those officials being named directly, like all the TF board of directors, from Viceroy Gunray all the way down the ladder of proxies, directors, vice-presidents and section chiefs.
It would be a carnage in the stock exchanges around the galaxy when the news of the plethora of suits hit the official news channels, especially once the requests for escrows and liens started passing through the registration system, as all these processes were under a mandatory declaration ordinance, meaning they couldn't be kept quiet to save the reputation of the parties implied. Those documents would be inscribed with the court clerks just as fast as the Nubian ambassy's legal staffers could research the suspected culprits, name them positively as accomplices with appended copies of the proofs accumulated, and write-out the appropriate paperwork to notarize and initiate the suits publicly.
Yes, it would be a carnage in the stock exchanges, in the traditional & social medias, and more importantly amongst the antechambers of the powerful who would panic right fucking hard at the sight of their best and most stable investments evaporating like water under Tatooine's binary suns at noon. In fact, if the big pension funds and corporate holdings got destabilized enough, it might even trigger a selling frenzy and run-for-cash by fearful people at all the banking institutions across the galaxy.
Anakin displayed openly what kinds of mercy he had learned from the Hutts in his nine years of life when he suddenly interrupted the queen's gushing about Nubian lawyers and their expertise. Verbally, the boy punched-in a well-placed poisoned knife to the kidneys of the Trade Federation, all the while body-slamming the remaining sanity of the adults in the room along the ways. "Oh, hey! I remember learning something Wattoo taught me about stock exchanges, last year! If the big investors sell-off their TF stocks quick & dirty, couldn't the Naboo buy them and become, like, the big bosses of the Neimoidian cartels? You know, to have inside information and maybeeee even force them to stop their war against you? Could that work or not?"
Every adult in the room made a run for the royal liquor cabinet cuz at this point they could all use some liquid pick-me-up to endure the kid's crazy schemes, and process through the preliminary phases of the plot that needed to be written down for transmission at their next scheduled pitstop. If Amidala offered Anakin a quarter ounce of fine Corellian red wine to occupy the demonic Hellmouth in the middle of his face to keep him from spouting-off more reality-altering vitriol, then nobody noticed, or else they actively approved the teenaged girl's stratagem. Maybe it was that a few people even topped-off the kid's cup a time or two during the rest of the evening. Suffice it to say, it took a very tired captain Panaka's still-strong arms to pick-up the boy to carry him to his bed at long last.
Coruscanti welcome and blow-outs
(Star Wars – Lake Varykino)
Ruusan 968 (Anakin 9 years old)
Surface, floating landing pad
Coruscant geopolis
Chommel sector senator Sheev Palpatine, member of one of the 100 royal houses of Naboo, was presently in a quandary of magnificent proportions.
In his hidden role as the current Sith grand-master of the Bane lineage, he needed the population of Naboo to suffer as long as possible to insure his schemes against the Light-Side Jedi cult came to fruition. Said plots had been set in motion and hatefully honed to lightsaber straight & sharp efficiency for a millennium since Bane himself had incepted them, therefore it was imperative that nothing interfered with their ultimate completion. Which meant that the Nubian queen's last batch of counter-schemes had him yanking out whatever few snow-white hairs he had remaining. The bloody girl had somehow managed to figure out the one and only method that could possibly stall the Trade Federation in its tracks, all the while delaying indeterminately Palpatine's replacement of Supreme Chancellor Valorum to begin his usurpation of the Galactic Senate, necessary first step on the road to back-stabbing the Jedi monks en-masse.
Yes, it was quite the emotional and tactical quandary, as Sheev enjoyed well-wrought schemes, the more dastardly the better. Nothing stimulated the Sith mind like a rotten and impure Betrayal well executed, with misery and public humiliation served alongside the main event. Also, to be honest, as a Naboo-born genetically pure human, he was still annoyed at how easily the reptilian Neimoidians and their cheap clanking metal puppets had taken over his native solar system, like rabid gundarks ripping through a herd of drugged-asleep shaaks. Some form of basal national pride, and maybe some latent specism too, had been tickled pink at the sight of the clusterfuck coming down the pipeline, aimed at the idiotically myopic Trade Federation stockholders, officials and contractors.
It would be epic, and the poodoo would spray all over the entire galactic financial apparatus, covering everything in a thick gluey mess that could take three or more generations to untangle and clean. Rebuilding international finance relationships, let alone renewing the common people's trust in mega-corporations and banks that were not based directly on their own planet, would most certainly take multiple decades, if not a few centuries. Any institution or corporation depending on money or people from outside their local community would soon find the economics of outsourcing & importing far different, and not so easy to do, come the end of the month.
Sooo much chaos, misery, pain, shame and humiliation swirling around! Truly Amidala had the kernel of a Sith acolyte in her shriveled soul!
Chuckling evilly to himself in the loneliness of his office in the Senate building, the elderly human male moved a few sheets of flimsiplast around his desk until he found what he sought. The file on Amidala's newest charity project; the Skywalker mother-son duo. Now then, what new manipulations could he plot with this new resource, before it arrived on planet?
{ SW } - { Yoda's denials are partially exposed } - { SW }
Grand-master of the Light-Side Jedi cult, Yoda, sat on his circular chair at the top of the Coruscanti temple's tower, looking out through the wide panoramic windows that offered one of the best views of the geopolis' overbuilt surface. And, despite the overabundance of durasteel and permacrete structures, the planet did indeed have its own type of charm – from a certain perspective – as the Jedi cultists were wont of saying
The shush of the main doors opening & closing informed the elder green-skinned reptilian that he was no longer alone in his contemplations. The nearly silent rubbing of smooth leathery material against the highly polished stone floor announced the coming of the only truly non-humanoid member of the High Council, the Thisspiasin male master Oppo Rancisis. The ophidian slowly crawled on his long snake body, his vaguely shaped torso kept upright with his four arms hidden inside the folds of the wide beige Jedi robes he wore, which themselves tended to disappear beneath the cascading waves of long, wildly unkept white beard and hair that made him look like a mobile mop, or upright sheep that never got sheared. In fact, master Oppo had so much hair all over his head that his face was almost unseeable beneath all the mess.
"I hope the Force has nurtured your meditations this day, master Yoda," the elderly ophidian offered kindly as he slithered into his chair, a few aside from Yoda's central emplacement in the U-shaped array. Coiling his lengthy tail under him on the cushioned chair, master Rancisis tasted the air with his forked tongue, letting his slitted yellow eyes lazily gaze around the council chamber, looking for much-needed changes that he new in advance would not happen as long as Yoda sat as grand-master.
Maintaining his orientation and posture towards the outside world, master Yoda humpfed lowly, his long-pointed ears moving in an up-down movement that those close to him had learned to interpret as a shrug, as his species didn't use their shoulders and arms the same way as most other humanoid species. "No clarity, on coming matters, the Force imparted. Along we must, by our selves, muddle through this miasma of politics. Disquieting, under such circumstances, the silence of our Mother the Force."
"Or perhaps, like a good parent, the Force has judged it is necessary for us to take responsibility for our decisions, if we ever wish to be deserving of those moments when she does grant us clarity." Master Rancisis countered calmly, as he didn't feel any urgency pulsing through the Force that would warn of impending doom.
Grunting in disagreement with his fellow monk, master Yoda pivoted his chair to gaze pensively at the elderly Thisspiasin male. Although, trying to look into his eyes was a waste of effort, given the veritable thicket of hair covering his head, shoulders and all the way down to where his elbows should be situated. Only a pair of vague and shifting holes in the mass of follicles hinted at where his ocular organs could possibly be. Squinting in annoyance, Yoda gripped his gimmer-wood stick with both three-fingered hands and deposited his chin atop the stick's rounded brass ornament, as he reflected upon his fellow's suggestion. As usual, the grand-master was unhappy that someone could dare posit the High Council had somehow become undeserving of their exalted status in society or the Force itself, let alone that the Light-Side could be unequal to the tasks or obstacles set before the Jedi monks.
As the elderly reptilian grand-master was still trying to find a counter to verbalize against the (perceived) anti-establishment sentiments from the younger master, the doors opened to let in a young Pantoran padawan-learner who walked just deep enough to let the doors close behind her. Bowing from the waist, the blue-skinned female declared "We have received news from Coruscant orbital control, my masters. The Nubian queen's convoy has exited hyperspace and is approaching the atmospheric lanes reserved for senate-bound traffic. There are three ships accounted; the original Naboo royal yacht Chromilluxian, the Eriadu colonial freighter Dolkach, and a third ship that joined them at their last pitstop in Loronar. That last one is registered to the Loronar shipyards corporation, and carries the sector's commercial consul, as well as the sector's judicial representative."
Gnawing on his gimmer stick's wooden portion just under the brass ornament, Yoda huffed in further annoyance at just how much people were dedicated to making things needlessly complicated for him to manage back into a state of peace. Didn't they realize that more politicians and bureaucrats meant more chaos, red tape and corruption in the way of establishing the Illumination of the Galactic Republic, once and for all? Not that he had much hope of seeing that realized in his lifetime, but that was no excuse for not trying to reach the goal, nonetheless.
At a gesture from the geriatric grand-master, the padawan bowed anew, leaving without further comment. When she was gone, Yoda activated the comms built into the chair's armrest to send a message to all council masters. "Jinn and Kenobi, the failed Naboo mission, have returned from. In council chambers, their report, hear we shall. By themselves, to our hallowed halls, return they must accomplish. The gatekeep sentinels, our wayward monks, warn us they shall, the arrival of."
After closing the comms, the oldest living Jedi pivoted his chair back to gaze outside, impolitely ignoring master Rancisis as he was suspecting the other cultist had begun to stray from the Path of the Light-Side in his weakening condition, due to aging badly for one of his species. And yes, the argument was thoroughly hypocritical coming from Yoda, given his own age and diminished health, but he was THE grand-master and TRUE guide of the Light, a veritable beacon amongst the imperfect and crass masses of teeming sentience that pullulated upon the Galaxy. If he believed a being was veering away from the Force's Will, then they were doing so, and no opinion but his mattered, either in judgement or solving the situation.
{ SW } - { Assassination attempt at arrival } - { SW }
Chommel sector senator Palpatine stood with his hands folded inside the wide sleeves of his purple robes of office, surrounded by three Naboo ambassy officials and two agents from the Republic Security forces who wore body armor and weapons, just in case. A few speeder-buses were waiting in mid-air parking, a few hundred yards away from the platform, just in case of attacks as much as to simplify traffic around the crowded city-core lane.
After a few minutes more of waiting, the engine noises of spaceships could be distinguished over the perpetual din of Coruscant's air-speeder traffic, audible even at this altitude above the planet's pseudo-surface. The first ship to pass at the landing platform was actually the Eriadan freighter, which hovered near the edge of the platform, opened its belly ramp to let out a dozen infantrymen, then quickly cleared out to go park at a spaceport farther away from the densely packed senatorial district. The second ship to pass without touching the decking plates was the Loronar delegation, which speedily disembarked personnel that went to stand besides Palpatine and his aides, then their transport flew off to follow the Eriadan ship. Finally, the impossibly shiny form of the chromium plated Nubian royal yacht arrived, this one actually landing on the floating platform's far edge to allow the queen's entourage to dismount safely.
Sheev Palpatine watched impassively through his watery blue eyes as his nominal monarch's new pet projects disembarked first along the two Jedi cultists, and lastly the girl-queen herself escorted by the six handmaidens that were the normal complement on such trips. The ship's engines did not stop as the vessel would soon need to clear-out for another parking zone, as these platforms were meant only to pick-up & deposit people or small merchandises, not park anything.
The elderly Sith master watched with interest as the frictions between the Jedis, Skywalkers and queen played out in public, with little to detract attention or hide the explosive situation from studious onlookers. The antagonism against the elder monk was so glaring that even the two droids accompanying the Tatooine refugees were actively scorning and heckling knight Jinn without bothering to be discrete, something unheard of from mechanoids under Republic culture & laws concerning cybernetic pseudo-sentience.
Palpatine and the Loronar judicial representative approached the young queen together, with Sheev extending both hands in traditional Nubian gesture of respect for a trusted aristocrat holding a titled position above his own. Yes, he found having to respect the mere slip of a girl distasteful, and her pacifism grated on his Sith instincts to fight to death and beyond, but his public persona needed to appear like a genteel old mentor, and so he did the deeds while holding his bile.
As Sheev held the girl's two hands in the ceremonial greeting of underling to regent queen, he felt a sudden strong and stringent warning of impending doom through the Dark-Side of the Force, urging him to seek shelter lest his life, and more importantly his schemes, would come to naught momentarily. Having not even a second to process the psychic alert, the elderly politician saw over Amidala's shoulder the telltale plume of black smoke from a rocket-propelled grenade heading for the left-wing engine of the still-hovering yacht. He barely had time to raise the beginnings of a Force shield bubble around his close proximity that he felt a massive influx of raw Light-Side energy suffuse his core and merge with the layer-matrix of his shield to enlarge and bolster it enough to resist the blast-wave and debris that burst outwards from the detonating ship.
Knight Qui-Gon Jinn and padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi didn't get any warnings from the Force but reacted a hundredth of a second after Palpatine, because they saw the beginnings of a Force shield forming to separate the end of the platform away from the hovering yacht, so they reacted along their training, by melding their Force energies to create a tightly woven master/apprentice dual-core casted shield that wrapped around them only, as well as anchoring them to the decking plates so they didn't get tossed around by the blast.
The unfortunate result of the Nubian ship exploding was the loss of the six crewmembers, captain Panaka, Jar Jar Binks who had remained aboard to reach the care of the ambassy doctors faster since his dehydration injuries refused to heal well, plus almost all the luggage they brought. On the landing pad, several Eriadan soldiers got blown off, falling nearly fifty floors to their deaths as they splattered on the hard permacrete 'surface' of the geopolis. A few had actually died from shrapnel or blast-wave effects but got swept off by the wind all the same. The Loronar judicial representative was lucky enough to be close to Palpatine along with Amidala, her handmaiden Padmé and the two Skywalkers when the mysterious shield appeared around the zone, deflecting shock and debris enough to avoid any injuries. His colleague of the commercial department, the other three Nubian ambassy workers and the remaining five handmaidens, had all suffered everything from generalized abrasions to multiple contusions from being thrown around the platform, blast-wave shock to lungs, eyes, ears and brains, and even a plethora penetrating wounds from flying ship wreckage pieces & detritus.
Ignoring the blaring alarm klaxons and milling people around for a moment to reorient himself, Sheev Palpatine was standing immobile, eyes locked with the luminescent sky-blue eyes of the nine-year-old boy who had clasped his wrist with his left hand while grabbing onto the young militant-servant Padmé's wrist with his right hand. The extra Light that had bolstered his Dark shield sufficiently to cover the important persons nearby had come from the boy. Incredibly, he had instinctively enacted an impromptu but powerful enmeshed multi-sources casting, a rather complex ability most masters of any Force-using tradition couldn't perform reliably. And this was most probably done without any prior practice, nor basic training from anybody.
Intriguing.
How very deliciously and desirably intriguing.
Lo and behold, raw apprentice material from the get-go, right at the tips of his crooked Sith fingers…!
As the group disentangled to take tally of damages and lives lost, the self-centered and self-serving knight Jinn tried to push his way to Anakin while claiming that the boy's spontaneous display of superior Force skills meant that he was bound by Republic Law to enter the Temple of Jedi for training as a servant of the Republic Senate, as the Ruusan Reformations commanded. Then the stubborn bastard had the gall to loudly ask the queen if she intended to challenge Republic and Jedi Laws on the matter. Sneering in her most contemptuous display, Queen Amidala replied by proffering her personal comms from which she replayed the segment of council meeting whence grand-master Yoda declared that Anakin was too old to enter the temple, and so was rejected as initiate or padawan.
With his claims & reputation firmly, and so thoroughly, publicly repudiated by the words of his own superior inside the Temple of Jedi, knight Jinn had no choice but to slink off to the side of the platform, to await the investigators from Republic Security. No one could leave the scene until debriefed by the police, and that included Jedi monks, no matter how highly they thought of themselves and their mystical energy-mother.
It took mere minutes for the flashing lights indicating RS rescue units and defense vehicles to come into view, with the platform being flooded by armored agents a few seconds later. As the search & rescue shuttles arrived, the delegations got separated by nationality or institution to facilitate interrogations all the while distributing medical attention more effectively. This allowed the luxurious private speeder-bus carrying the Naboo personnel to be flown to their ambassy at high speed, instead of staying in the open for the assassins to make another attempt.
Palpatine was frowning the entire short trip, as he mulled over the attack. It very clearly wasn't aimed at himself, so that was a relief. A single RPG shot from a nearby building without follow-up strike declared the killer as a rank amateur who had never done this sort of job before. No true bounty hunter or assassin's guild member then. As he tried to order his thoughts to process both immediate survival and higher politics simultaneously, the elderly male felt through the Force the attention of a sentient focused upon him. Looking around serenely, he quickly saw the boy slyly side-eying him from his bench across the aisle, with his two droids at his side while his mother was at the front of the compartment with the queen and other adults, leaving them alone in the back.
With both of them actually gazing at each other, Anakin leaned towards Sheev to snort softly his derision, explaining "The guy who shot the ship wasn't a pro. Definitely not somebody the Hutts or Black Sun would hire more than once. He didn't have more munitions, and didn't even take pot-shots at the weakened targets with a rifle. I'm guessing what captain Tarkin said about the Trade Federation being desperate has some truth to it, no? They'll hire anybody to get their blockade won and finished." The boy had a nasty smirk as he opined his evaluation of the TF strategic options, feeling quite secure in his views.
Making a small smirk as he amusedly nodded his agreement, Darth Sidious wondered anew about the wonderfully Gray and Dark tendencies hidden inside this child's Luminous aura, and what could he do to ensnare him in his multi-layered webs of deceit. Hmmm, since the boy was listed as Nubian diplomatic & security personnel, having periodical contact with him would be easy, but having a reason for the contact would need some reflection. No matter; life and the Force would provide the conversation topics in due time. In fact, if they met only to laugh about their incompetent enemies' failures, Palpatine's list of personal foes on its own could supply them with years of hilarity, so that was that problem solved right from the start.
{ SW } - { And so the well-thinkers thought } - { SW }
The senior masters of the Light-Side Jedi cult sat in their customary chairs, arrayed in U-shape around the outer perimeter of the High Council tower's glassed chamber, granting them a commanding view over the other towers of their communal abode, and Coruscant's Senatorial district beyond. The emplacement to build the edifice had actually been chosen due to the holy mountain and natural Force nexus, not the presence of the Senate rotunda, nor all the ambassies and bureaucracy buildings that ringed around the massive mushroom-shaped center of galactic authority. All those things had been built long after the Jedi Temple had been raised above the crass depths of Coruscant's lower slabs. Although, for most neophyte visitors, the first impression they got from the positioning was perhaps less than savory, especially if they ignored the planet's geography and history as, sadly, most did these days.
Soon, the doors to the chamber sushed open, allowing the entry of their wayward monks so they could hear the reports on the disastrous Naboo mission. As it was, everybody in the hall could see the frictions, anxieties, and even some aggressivity between knight Qui-Gon Jinn and his adolescent padawan. In fact, not a single master needed to use their wisdom in the Force to perceive the blaring signals of discord emanating from the quarreling pair. As befit their stations in the cult, Jinn stood in the middle of the open space and bowed as Kenobi stood a full pace behind and to the right, bowing as well.
"Failure again, for mission this council assigned, you come to report, hummm?" Master Yoda asked/declared in his odd personal dialect that irritated even master Yaddle, a female of the same species currently serving on the council. "Time have you, these calamities, to expound upon. Hear you, we shall."
- Qui-Gon Jinn's dishonest report -
Grimacing at the green grand-master's ominous choice of words, knight Jinn tried his best to spin & grift his way out of trouble, mostly by laying the blame on others, especially those who weren't alive anymore to defend themselves. Alas, poor Jar Jar Binks, he was such a good soul, passed into the Force far too soon for such a young, vibrant sentient. "My masters, I must admit quite sorrowfully that the mission to Naboo has ended with what could be a stalemate at best, and a debacle at worst. The Trade Federation received our consular cruiser aboard their Lucrehulk command ship, but without any intents of honoring any diplomatic protocols or negotiated settlements. The moment they identified Obi-Wan and myself as Jedis, they destroyed the cruiser without summation, then tried to gas us inside a turbo-lift. We escaped the gas, but run afoul of hordes of droids, including tens of shielded droidekas. My padawan and I were thusly pushed to seek refuge on the planet surface, to dodge our pursuers. After stowing-away on an automated landing barge, we managed to make our way to Otho Gunga, a city of the planet's genuine native species of hominid amphibians. They granted us a specialized submersible ship to pass through the planet's hollow core, and to the human capital of Theed on the other side. This method allowed us to bypass most of the TF clankers on the ground, and link-up with queen Amidala and her entourage. After liberating the young monarch, we commandeered the royal yacht to escape the blockade for a speedy return to Coruscant."
Shaking his head in despair, both real and affected for the purpose of garnering some sympathy, Jinn sighed in make-believe sadness as he detailed "However, the queen had forgotten to mention that her official yacht was devoid of any weaponry since the Naboo don't believe in arming diplomats. Something about an armed emissary being both a proof of not trusting the people you meet, and a promise of coming violence. At any rate, the ship was defenseless and thus easily damaged by the droid fighters running blockade patrols around the system. This forced us to seek temporary shelter upon the desolate Hutt world of Tatooine."
Master Mace Windu, a black-skinned Korun human born from the planet Haruun Kal, who also served as Prefect of Discipline for the Jedi Order of the Light, leaned forward until both elbows rested atop his knees, frowning balefully at Qui-Gon Jinn's rather drab storytelling. Usually, the man was a lot more descriptive, tending to wax poetically about his exploits, or to romanticize his failures into epics that explained everything as somebody else's fault. Not liking where things were going, Windu demanded tersely "And what about all that brouhaha on Tatooine, Jinn? A Sith, of all foul beasts to stumble on? And at the same time, you unearthed a supposed living mine of midi-chloridians given humanoid morphology? Whose male parent was utterly replaced by said midi-chloridians to the point most doctors would wonder how he can stay alive, let alone have a solid shape? That seems an awful lot of contrived luck, my friend…"
Barely looking at Windu's disagreeable countenance, knight Jinn instead tried to appeal to master Yoda anew. "Indeed, my masters, we suffered a series of happenstances upon the surface of Tatooine, starting with a sandstorm merely an hour after we did our enforced, but well controlled, landing. Nobody could have predicted a three days storm, not even the native climatologists. Besides, we were strapped for time as the hyperdrive had died on us, and the sublight engines had only so much left to give before burning out, if not cooled and repaired sufficiently. We were blessed by our Mother the Force as it was, to find this junk dealer Wattoo and his employees, or else we may still be waiting on that sandball for help chartered by your graces to come recover us."
Clearing his throat, Jinn broached the sore subject with delicacy; "During a short period prior to departure, a heavily figure-painted Zabrak arrived on a custom-built speeder bike. He jumped off before the vehicle had even stopped and lit-up a red bladed lightsaber the moment his feet touched the sand. Obi-Wan being a much better duellist than I, he engaged the enemy. Soon the Sith showed his prowess by revealing he was wielding a two-bladed saber-staff, managing to keep up with Obi-Wan at an astounding pace, despite my padawan's sublimely athletic performance. The Sith chose to disengage when queen Amidala used an ill-advised, dangerous subterfuge to make him believe that an armed ship full of allied soldiers was immediately inbound. Upon hearing this false-flag, the Sith retreated on his speeder bike. That is the only reason there were no deaths or grave injuries, because the enemy withdrew on his own volition."
The senior masters remained quiet as they knew that most of this concurred with the reports their hidden shadows on Tatooine had sent, as well as the preliminary information from the Naboo entourage that had kindly been sent ahead of their arrival, from one of their pitstops at mid-journey. The Jedi shadows on Eriadu had intercepted the reports captain Tarkin sent the planet's governor, thusly confirming from a third source, which was always nice when dealing with someone like Qui-Gon Jinn and his malfeasant ilk. Knowing most of this already, Yoda tapped his gimmer wood stick on the stone floor, demanding the monk hurry up to the new parts.
Sighing again in affected put-upon-ness, knight Jinn began to move his hands expansively as he got into the story-telling part of his report. He had successfully glossed over several details of how they passed the three days and nights in claustrophobic containment with people who had taken a severe disliking to his personality and attitude, as well as his multiple 'accidental' insults and provocations of their gracious hosts. He had also speed-run through the engine repairs and the young boy's incredible natural aptitudes with commerce, cybernetics, heavy machinery or vehicular mechanics, choosing to insist on his raw Force potential. "And that is what we perceived, my masters. Several instances of alertness towards the storm's intensity during the days of huddled peace, and a preternatural ability to see or feel the defects in the engine parts that needed to be repaired. No ordinary human of any age could be so skilled in mechanics that even an astromech would strain to perform. And then, there was the shield! If you had been on the platform during the attack, you would have felt the raw Power and Force potential in that child! He has never been trained by anybody, yet he managed to manifest and maintain a ten feet wide sphere of kinetic deflection like few amongst the graduating padawans could claim to manage at all, let alone so stable!"
"And that is the crux of the entire matter," the Keldor master Plo Koon interrupted acidly, "the whole mission can go roast in Corellian Hell on a spit, you only care about the prestige and self-supposed 'moral authority' that finding the prophesized 'Chosen One, Son of the Suns' would give you instantly over every living member of the Light-Side Jedi faith and cult. We are not blind to your obvious desires, nor the many foibles they have created inside your character, senior knight, and we will not let your lack of true faith and genuine altruism infect us in a similar manner."
Across the room, the Quermian senior master Yarael Poof leaned forward his long neck, frowning his red eyes angrily at the deceitful knight, yet another one of Yoda's imbecilic fools he had to endure, instead of kicking him out of the Order directly into Republic Security's custody. "Do tell us, Jinn, how is it that you managed to get such an accurate reading of the child's blood, when he, his mother and their -owner- Wattoo the Toydarian, had all refused? And later, aboard the Nubian yacht when you were warned of their freedom, your demands were rebuffed by queen Amidala herself. So, knight Jinn, how did you do it?"
Shrugging in affected innocence that fooled only himself, the monk explained vaguely "The child was quite young to be repairing such a complex engine system, something any sentient with eyes could see. All I had to do was wait for him to get a small cut from a sharp tool or bit of engine metal, then pass a medical wipe on the drops that landed on the deck plates. Nothing nefarious was inflicted upon the boy, I guarantee. I merely analyzed residual biohazardous material. I did not go against their wishes by forcibly taking that which was forbidden, nor did I aggress any person to accomplish the goals of the mission."
Several masters frowned upon hearing Qui-Gon attempt to redirect the council's established decisions from managing the Naboo crisis into declaring the Skywalker boy the actual mission that needed to be resolved. Such verbal sleight-of-tongue was exactly why the ordinary citizens of the Galaxy distrusted Jedi on an instinctual level, but unfortunately it was also the exact application of "from a certain perspective" that was the founding core of Yoda's faith, creed, doctrine and style of regency over Jedi affairs. This sophistry certainly explained why most people had started discounting the Jedi's spirituality, philosophy and moral views some five centuries back, incidentally when Yoda finished imposing his methods to the entire Light-Side cult as standard.
Now smiling toothily in a way a gundark would feel kinship with, the pasty-white skinned senior master Poof extended one of his four arms to send a Force impulse at the holoprojector set into the ceiling of the room, activating the device. It immediately showed recordings from inside Chromilluxian's richly appointed rooms. Befitting a noble vessel of such diplomatic standing, the internal security system was both densely spread and highly capable, as evidenced by the impeccable imagery and accompanying sounds on display for the council to review.
Qui-Gon Jinn stood transfixed by the visible proof of his abhorrent behavior towards the child as he manipulated the tool to open and cut him, while Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed relieved and satisfied that his master's sins were exposed in such a publicly devastating manner. This difference in attitudes was watched and noted by all senior masters, including an increasingly disturbed and aggrieved Yoda who gnawed on his gimmer stick with fervor to assuage his mounting anxiety. Why was it the last few generations acted so damned stupidly that their pettiness and menial escapades got caught on film all the time?
When the short series of films stopped, master Poof demanded tartly, and with great relish evident, "Do you perhaps want to amend you report, knight Jinn? Because it would seem that there are several parts of your story – or should I say fable? – that don't concord with Reality." The Quermian master broke with his species' deeply ingrained traditions by unfurling all four arms and joining his hands in two pairs that dropped to rest on his lap, one atop the other, in a visible sign of his refusal to further placate this deplorable knave or his cowardly supporters amongst the high council.
- From Obi-Wan Kenbi, a more honest report is heard -
Master Oppo Rancisis asked in a kind but durasteel-firm voice that was rarely heard from him; "Padawan Kenobi, please begin your report. We have reached the end of your teacher's usefulness in this meeting. It is your turn to account for the events that unfolded to derail your operation." The chastisement against Qui-Gon Jinn in the ophidian's voice and venomous words was clear as the view from the chamber's panoramic transpasteel wall.
Remaining standing in his current spot, Obi-Wan began without paying attention to Qui-Gon's attempts at discrete signals he might try to guide his testimony towards something more accommodating for the elder knight's already damaged reputation. "Firstly, I wish to take the time to offer my thanks to our departed colleague, senior master Yan Dooku, for having lent me a copy of his holocron. It proved to be of vital use in the last few years of my life." Taking a steadying breath, Obi-Wan continued "The beginning of the mission was mostly as master Jinn stated. Our consular cruiser was accepted inside the TF command ship, then barely ten minutes later at the very most, they destroyed our conveyance and tried to gas us to death. When that failed, they sent droidekas and every other kinds of droids they had aboard, until we were forced to choose a tactical retreat or dying simply from being swarmed by clankers. We established a positive contact with the Gungans who lent us a submersible to finish our trip towards Theed, the Naboovian human kingdom's capital city. We found the queen practically by accident, as she was being transferred to a concentration camp by a limited escort of simplistic B1 droids. We rescued the monarch, found her escorts, then managed to hijack the royal yacht from under the TF's nose."
Frowning as he remembered the events, the padawan detailed "Our trip to leave Naboo was fraught with anxieties as the ship's engines were fighting to keep working, but the hyperdrive just couldn't, not with the laser damages taken. Plus, out of the six astromechs the journey began with, four were lost in the short period before we escaped to the safety of the hyperspace lane. With so much of the qualified repair systems removed, we were forced to make harsh choices to save our lives, in case the yacht died before we reached a livable world. The closest to our departure point was the Tatoo system in the Arkanis sector, the Force-forsaken planet Tatooine under control of the Hutt cartels, most specifically Jabba Desilijic Tiure. By the will of the Force, our vessel managed to tough it out long enough to land safely on the desertic planet, close to Mos-Espa. We then formed a group composed of us two Jedis, a handmaiden chosen to be the queen's representative and money-holder, the Gungan Jar Jar Binks, and one R2D2 series astromech who was our technical advisor as we didn't have that knowledge between the organics in the group."
Shaking his head in desolation at the memories, Obi-Wan explained "Our arrival on Tatooine seemed to augur a series of nothing but ill fates, my masters. Firstly, we encountered troubles when the Gungan showed a clear lack of manners and self-restraint by stealing luxury food from a vendor, which triggered a scuffle where he was almost killed. It was the second event, the arrival of a small human slave boy that changed everything. The child was delivering pieces for his master, but he intervened to save our traveling mate. It was then that he saw Qui-Gon use a mind-trick to fool the vendor into thinking he had been paid the stolen food after all, when no such thing was done. At that point the boy judged master Jinn a thief and conman, but still guided us back to his shop as they did sell starship parts of multiple models, and no deal was too small when money was involved, so he tolerated our presence despite not liking us. Then the third problem happened; the Toydarian dealer we found was much more educated and competent than what master Jinn usually deals with. And his two human slaves, the boy and his mother, were also far better educated, savvy, and overall more aware than regular muck-dwellers as Tatooine should be limited to. The flying menace was running an odd junk shop, repair shop and medical cabinet fusion, out of a single building, plus he owned the only ambulance service to cover the poorest districts around the low part of town, where slaves and the dregs of all societies came to die in silent abandonment. Despite seeing all this unusualness, master Jinn tried to present as the high and exalted sage he normally does, but was cut down to size by the child who announced to everybody what a conman he truly was, and to only let him pay cash in advance of any transactions, or else expect to be defrauded. To which both adults immediately agreed, without ever doubting the boy's evaluation, and set those terms up-front before we could even name the types of parts we needed. Then, the fourth problem happened; the queen's account access had been frozen, so we ended having to delay ordering the parts until an acceptable currency could be in-hand. And then the fifth mess befell us, the three-days long sandstorm."
Clearing his throat, the adolescent continued bravely "We tried to get along with the locals. Because of the sandstorm, and we not having money used in the city, we had to barter for emergency lodging in a private home, rather than rent a few rooms in even the cheapest hotel. Master Jinn claimed he had no funds for the mission, because the high council provided only the Republic's consular cruiser and Servicorps crewmen, everything else needed to be acquired on the road. The Nubian handmaiden had expected to be able to use the royal credit cards, so she had no hard cash that local shops would take. In the end, the queen's servant traded their fifth astromech unit against lodging & food for the full duration of the storm, no later. It was the Skywalkers that accepted to shelter us in their small slave dwelling. It was during that first evening that we discovered the boy's Force sensitivity, as he used telekinesis liberally to move food, utensils and flatware, as the dinner was being prepared for the whole group. And then, master Jinn had to start pontificating about obliging the boy to come to Coruscant's temple, no matter what the family or local law said about it."
Obi-Wan ran a nervous hand through his short padawanat hairstyle, mussing it and not caring, as he felt so much stress from retelling all the crapulence he witnessed in the last two weeks. "Even the presence of a Murnium explosive biochip inside the boy's body didn't faze Qui-Gon, as he was certain that he could find a way to remove the trap before escaping Tatooine. When I pressed him about it, he confirmed that he only had two plans; use the child's own newly acquired astromech to find and neutralize the biochip, or else have the Servicorps send a ship equipped with a competent medical droid to accomplish the neutralization and extraction of the device. After that, he would then keep the child sedated until he arrived here, at the temple. If neither option panned-out, then he would 'improvise as the Force willed it', which really meant doing a hard run off Tatooine. He believed that Wattoo would deactivate the transponder rather than risk the valuable asset that could still be recovered at a later date, if a lot of efforts were expended. It was this nerf-headed attitude to constantly berate and confront the two Skywalkers about Anakin rehoming to the Jedi temple that had the mother, Shmi, insist that Qui-Gon not leave the basement shelter, even for meals. As there was a fresher in the dugout room and I brought his food at all meals, it wasn't exactly a prison sentence. And honestly, it was nothing he hadn't brought upon himself with his crass lack of manners and insensitivity to others' feelings, or reasons, about how they live."
Swallowing passed a hard lump in his throat, the nineteen-year-old padawan looked around the room, making eye contact with each master as he detailed "Once the royal yacht was repaired and tested functional, master Jinn watched over Anakin like a Loth-cat over rodents. He saw an opportunity to get the much-desired blood, and contrived an event to make it happen. He was unapologetic, to the point that he didn't wait for Anakin to leave the room before he wiped the blood sample from the floor, and was processing the exemplar in med-bay while the child was getting the laceration healed, right in the chair next to the testing station at that! The man was shameless and unrepentant about anything, but became worst after the midi-chloridian count was proven. At that moment, master Jinn became convinced he had been guided to Tatooine by the Force itself, and that his Destiny as mentor to the Chosen One was ordained from On-High. He immediately attempted to elaborate a plan to con Anakin out of his mother's embrace, and render the young queen his accomplice at the same time to neutralize her. That was put on hold indefinitely as Amidala negotiated in good faith with Wattoo to purchase the Skywalkers and free them per Hutt protocols, which was then filed and notarized by what passes for a government on Tatooine. Again, master Jinn's deplorable schemes came undone before even starting, something that the Nubian entourage was quick to rub in his face publicly."
Sighing loudly in worry, Obi-Wan gestured with both arms in powerless admission as he detailed "The fight with the Sith was sudden, quick, short, and the foreigner kept hidden nearly five times more secrets than he revealed. Not only during the event, but afterwards, when I reviewed the recording during our hyperspace trip. I wrote a report as encompassing as I could, but must confess my limitations where it concerns factual knowledge of Sith fighting styles, weapons, or cultural cues that could have been on the enemy's clothing. I can't say if he's a master, apprentice, acolyte or simple isolated Dark-sider who makes a living as assassin in the Outer Rims. My conversations with master Jinn and the other occupants of the ship proved fruitless in a similar vein."
Shrugging apologetically, the young human completed "The rest of the voyage was simplistic in the extreme, as you can all attest by your personal experiences of hyperspace travel. We were cooped-up in a luxurious but ultimately small vessel with little to do but read, practice katas and Force abilities, or participate in storytelling after the evening meals. The queen worked tirelessly at tasks of regency, management and warfaring linked to her nation, the TF blockade and the Galactic Senate. The half-hour pitstops were done to establish link-up with the Senatorial network, contact allies of Naboo to maintain the fight against the occupiers, and worry their hidden financial backers. There is precious little to add, except a few small bits for the psychological profile of Anakin Skywalker that I put in my written report to complete the archives on the boy. He demonstrated a fine acumen for barter, trade, monetary commerce, illegal conventions, multiple layers of politics, and an ability to manipulate persons or groups from a distance through social media rumors and dropping select hints of truth at official news channels. This, added to his excellent skillset at cybernetics and droid programming would make him a formidable intelligence procurer & analyst for our shadows, or for the Republic Security Forces. I am quite certain that queen Amidala had this discussion with captain Panaka and her handmaidens several times during the trip, and the posting she granted the child reflects a similar evaluation on their part."
Taking a deep, liberating breath, Obi-Wan finished his report with "When we arrived on the landing platform, an already large group had gathered, with many workers from the embassies of Naboo and Loronar waiting for the queen to disembark. They welcomed her like an old friend, but they were still in the process of the first official handshake by senator Palpatine when the attack occurred. From what I could perceive, only a single RPG was shot at the Chromilluxian's engine, without any follow-up strikes or sniper shots at the crowd. I did see the Force bubble establish itself around the core group surrounding queen Amidala, but it could have been one of several people who cast the ability. Inside the area covered were Anakin and his mother, the queen and her favored handmaiden Padmé, senator Palpatine and the judicial representative for Loronar. I remind you that we periodically find Force-users that were hidden from the Order's gaze to be raised as body-guards or 'empowered / enlightened officials' for a national government. Not to mention the number of children born into abject poverty or slavery on those thousands of worlds outside Republic purview & law. While I doubt Shmi Skywalker could have done the deed, I am bound by logic to look more towards the adults, especially since the child didn't drop unconscious after the bubble dissipated. Practically every graduating padawan, knight and master that has been tested for the ability to enact such a shield would be put-down by energy drainage and tiredness within 10 - 15 seconds, if casting alone, and usually for a smaller zone of coverage. Unless Anakin Skywalker, an untrained 9 year old boy, has developed the ability to tap into the Force's weave like he were drilling for Promethium oil, then I don't see how he could be the one to enact the defensive bubble. Not alone, at any rate. Which, of course, guides our attention to the adults and what could they have been hiding for their entire lives & careers. This ends my report on the Naboo mission."
- Master Plo Koon's first stand for truth -
Mace Windu smiled with all his teeth visible as he glared at Qui-Gon Jinn, his contempt undisguised and palpable through the Force. "Now Jinn, that's a mission report, especially for a mission that failed as thoroughly and spectacularly as this one did. Wouldn't you agree, master Yoda?"
Everybody turned to watch the geriatric grand-master as he was gnawing spastically on his wooden walking stick, to the point that saliva-drenched grits and slivers were piling on the stone floor, at the foot of the plush-cushioned chair. Frowning most mightily at the two imbeciles from his disastrous lineage who were responsible for this debacle, Yoda could barely contain his anger anymore. "Of this council, the judgment decreed be…" the reptilian began, only to be cut short by an irate master Plo Koon.
"Excuse me, master Yoda," the fuming Keldor demanded in barely covered anger, "but what judgment of the council do you refer to? We haven't debated or meditated on the Force to guide our decisions! How can we be at the point of judging anything? Where does this supposed decree come from? I have yet to vote on any measure or proposal, as I certainly recall none being put before our assembly!"
Shaking his head angrily as he began to lose his grasp on his mighty Force-presence, Yoda actually growled ferally at master Koon "Who be you, subordinate of the Order, the grand-master in title, to crassly challenge amidst council? Your station should be known, young Plo Koon, amongst life, the Force and the Light-Side Order of Jedi! Dissentions and challenges such, to the Force our Mother, the Order blemished and diseased, unsightly becomes to Her when tolerated."
Unlimbering his lightsaber from his belt to rest it on his lap, the Keldor male demanded loudly "Ware your words, Yoda! Are you accusing me of heresy against the Force itself simply because I have a different opinion? Or because I want our judicial processes to be done fully, to achieve true justice instead of the pale and transparent cover-up of incompetence, injustice and unfettered lawlessness that your so-called pronouncements have devolved to over the last century? Say it aloud, you leather-hided rodent! Stop hiding behind false affected ticks and patois of old age to speak clearly, for a change! Are you trying to poison the minds of my fellow masters by accusing me of heresy, to silence me or prepare my expulsion from the council and Order? Answer me, dammit all!"
Yoda turned angry yellow eyes upon the masked Keldor, replying in hissing tones "To appease the council, if needs you gone to be, then consider this option, the Force will guide us to ponder. And, the Will of the Force, abide we do, in all things, gestures and thoughts, as always must we." The short grand-master let the threat hang in the air between the seated senior masters as he gazed in cold pensive rage at the latest challenger to publicly demand answers from him. His own padawan Yan Dooku had tried, and paid for it with his exalted position in the Light-Side Order as senior-master, and the acclaimed presumptive Heir of Yoda as next grand-master to lead the Coruscanti temple towards the Eternal Light. Not a sufficient example, for some, it now showed clearly.
To the utter astonishment of Yoda, master Koon dropped his lightsaber to the stone floor of the chamber with a bell-like ringing noise that shattered the illusion of peace and harmony that the grand-master had tried desperately to uphold for the last six centuries, since his plan for the Great Illumination had begun taking shape inside his mind and teaching doctrine. "By the arcana of the Temple of the Light-Side of our Holy Mother the Force, I senior master Plo Koon do hereby give notice to the Jedi masterant caste of my intents. By the Rituals of Venerable Antiquity granted us in the Legacy sacred texts, the Wills of the Whills, I now take my rights as titled Light-Side master Jedi, and seated senior master of the High Council of the Coruscanti Jedi Order, to offer grand-master of the Order Yoda the challenge of Wisdom and duel of blades, here and now, before the Force our Mother."
As one, all the seated senior masters moved to lift their cowls to cover their heads and faces down to just above their eyes, and unlimbered their lightsabers to hold them between clasped hands on their laps. Stunned by fear and loss of control, Qui-Gon Jinn stood immobile until Obi-Wan grabbed the back of his robes to make him walk backwards to the edge of the U-shape array's opening, leaving the center-space clear for a duel to occur. Now mobile, the senior knight copied his betters in cowling his head and holding his lightsaber in clasped hands, like his padawan already did behind him.
The grave and accusatory voice of senior master Mace Windu, the Master of the Order (Prefect of Discipline) for the Coruscanti temple of the Light-Side Jedi faith and cult, was heard to resound through the chamber, balefully announcing what all already knew. "Yoda, grand-master of this Order, you have been offered the challenge of Wisdom in the Force and blades in defense of the Innocent. What claim you, grand-master? Will you accept the challenge to defend your position as leader of this Order of Light, or will you stand down to again listen to the wise suggestions of your partners and allies, in divining the Will of the Force, our Holy Mother of the Suns, Moons and Void? Speak, Yoda, the floor is yours, by Tradition and Law."
Yoda was being watched by everyone in the room, and not a single one had clear feelings about what they beheld. The elderly reptilian was still occupied at gnawing his damnable gimmer wood stick to shreds, and hadn't even bothered to follow the basic ritual of cowling his head or moving his lightsaber to a prayerful situation on his lap, as was required by the circumstance of a formal challenge. Soon, many senior masters were exuding contempt and vitriol in the Force, at seeing such a continued spectacle of disrespect and self-absorbed hubris by their grand-master. Passing seven centuries at the head of the Order was now obviously a bad thing, and the Temple rules would be altered to never permit this again, just like term limits to sit on any of the councils would also be instituted, to avoid somebody with authoritarian tendencies from climbing high enough to test the rules and resolve of the Jedi monks in the future.
Yoda tried to divinize his place in the plans of the Force, to see Junctions, Flextures, Fractures, Knots or Shatter-Points, to see where, when and how to influence the wills of the seated masters into following his own views and decisions without all this useless talking and piddling that produced nothing useful. Alas, he saw nothing, and the Force was silent on his own Destiny in unfolding events. As he had felt for the last thirty-odd years, a Pall of Darkness had settled upon Coruscant in particular, and the entire Galaxy at large, even on those worlds that were known Foci or Nexus of the Light-side. The Time of Falling had finally come to pass, no matter his efforts.
Slowly moving his wrinkled tridactyl hand, Yoda unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, letting it roll to the stone floor where he gave it a slight whack with the bottom of his stick, sending the weapon rolling in the general vicinity of master Koon's chair. "To this challenge, no wisdom is there, the Order's grand-master, to waste council time upon. Querulous and feral, generations of last, become they have. No wisdom, no discipline, no patience, but assuredly most, respect for the Truth of the Light in elder's souls, lost all they have. Now only laws, codes, rules and protocols, the young want to speak of in council, despite the Will of the Force, clear as Light it be to see. Make it worse, this debacle, I refuse to commit. A convoy of blind fools, become you have. Dark Passions and lesser Emotions, obey you now do, unto their Evil masters' whips like slaves became yous."
Ignoring the high council's most basic protocols and all politeness, master Yoda stood from his chair, calling his hovering chair to his side and climbing into the conveyance without a word. Once situated on the repulsor vehicle, the green-skinned Jedi spoke in halting words, letting his anger and contempt for the assembly out for all to see. "This group, a council of Jedi wise elders, it stopped being. Recognized, decisions done this foul day, never shall be. Apocrypha, all your words and deeds have become, in heresy so Dark, a stain upon the temple formed it has. As grand-master, this assembly dissolve I do. No resolution, the Naboo mission gets, as failure needs no worsening. Tasks, all of you have. To these works, attend you should, lest unto more deserving Jedi, awarded the trust be."
The baleful voice of Mace Windu resounded again, as he declared "Master Yoda! If you disrespect the arcana of the temple, and the protocols set forth by the Wills of the Whills to guide the regency of our faith and cult, then you demonstrate your own unworthiness to be our leader, or to sit on the high council at all! The challenge was given formally and within the bounds of tradition, law and propriety. You MUST answer formally, according to the old forms, or be both dismissed as grand-master and senior-master of the council, in this very meeting and executive upon closure of the session. Speak now, or let the Force hold your words in trust for your holocron at the time of your passing. So sayeth the Force, our Holy Mother!"
"So sayeth the Force, our Holy Mother!" exclaimed ritually all the other Jedis in the room, bound by traditions and faith that Yoda was no longer certain had any real value anymore. Not if these pesky traditions, laws, protocols and council sessions produced such menially meager results in fostering the Light.
The small grand-master bowed his head, his ears moving up-&-down in his species' equivalent to a shrug, as he responded to Mace Windu's dire warning. "Hear you, Master of the Order, I do indeed. But, from this council, not so easy to orchestrate, my final departure be. By the Rituals of Venerable Antiquity granted us by the Wills of the Whills, from an untamed youngling this unworthy challenge received, concede I do. As always, when feral crechelings swarm, the only adult in the halls, be that voice of reason I must. Decide what you will, but sign it never shall I. Abdicate the challenge, indeed I do, but admit fault, never I will. Not on this, not on anything else. So sayeth the Force."
Master Yarael Poof's low, raspy whisper of raw rage echoed in the Force with his venomous contempt for what Yoda had fallen to become, as he declared in the formal tones of ancient rites: "Our grand-master' lack of respect for traditions, laws and rituals is now clear and proven by his own words and deeds. The ritual of challenge demands that the Jedi who loses or abdicates demonstrates genuine contrition and acceptance of the result, lest they be immediately demoted for dishonesty and attempt at creating unrest and uncivility amongst the Order. As this is written law in both the Wills of the Whills and the modernized Codexia Jeddahika imposed by the Galactic Senate through the Ruusan Reformation, I now make motion to sanction Yoda for his disobedience and uncivility towards all Jedi in this temple."
Yoda turned his repulsor chair to glare at master Poof, then pivoted further to aim poisonous yellow eyes at master Windu, who would be the Jedi to decide how much longer this farce of an assembly would last. Yoda was disappointed indeed, to hear it wouldn't end so quickly, nor to his liking.
Raising his own angry black eyes to glare at Yoda, Mace Windu intoned gloomily "And so it comes to pass, that which we fear and strive to avoid. Of our hallowed ranks, a member has sunk into the lures of Power and Authority, turning away from the Light of our Mother the Force. In view of such, we now render sentence upon the unworthy. Yoda, you are temporarily demoted from your station as grand-master of the order for a period of 30 days, during which period of meditation you will dwell in reclusion. All your current tasks and duties shall be fulfilled by other senior masters not presently on the high council, but chosen in-camera judicalis for this short-term purpose. So sayeth the Force, our Hallowed Mother of the Suns, Moons and Void."
Glaring malevolently with urine-yellow eyes at every member of the high council, Yoda ignored his lightsaber resting on the floor as he moved his hover chair towards the chamber's main doors. Without a word, the elderly Jedi left the choking atmosphere of the council behind him as he went directly to his private suite to isolate himself, hoping to defeat the migraine pounding at his temples and nape. Even with the lights and blinds closed, and a cup of soothing herbal medicine at his bedside, the geriatric monk fell into a fitful, restless slumber that would be far too short to heal anything, or amend his distorted views.
- Resolving Qui-Gon Jinn's mess -
In the high council's chamber, senior master Plo Koon having won the challenge became the de-jure grand-master for the next 30 days, unless the council called for the nomination of a new titled grand-master. Also, should he die or fall ill beyond ability to serve, he would be replaced by the oldest council member, which would be master Oppo Rancisis for the duration.
The Keldor male retrieved Yoda's lightsaber from the floor with a minor pull of telekinesis as he moved to his new chair, at the center of the U-shaped array, his back to the massive Senate Rotunda that dominated the landscape visible through the panoramic windows behind him. Now situated, the grand-master du-jure signaled for Qui-Gon Jinn and his padawan-learner to enter the center of the circle anew.
Speaking in an even tone that did nothing to hide his contempt or anger, Plo Kloon declared to the assembly; "As a witness to the reports of these Jedis along those files submitted by our shadows and allies in multiple venues, I now call to the senior masters of this council for their enlightenment. What say you, exalted amongst the Light-Side of the Force?"
Master Yarael Poof shook his head sideways in a firm negative, stating "Few good things, the Naboo mission brought to light. Many bad things, in fact, were finally revealed to our eyes. We had doubts for many years now, but we finally have proof enough to act. I motion that we separate padawan Kenobi from knight Jinn, as his teacher is an abject failure of a Jedi, adult and man. The boy needs a true Jedi to finish preparing him for the Knighthood Trials, and to guide his graduating studies more carefully, given the emergence of the Sith. A focus on combat and Sith culture should be best, I think, for many of the coming class."
Master Ki-Adi-Mundi declared coldly "And we MUST punish this imbecile Jinn, for his boundless transgressions! Not let him sulk under a rock in the room of a thousand fountains, like Yoda wants to happen. His repeated insults to the Nubian queen's entourage almost derailed the mission, and poisoned any future relations we may try to have with either the Naboovian humans, the Gungans, or the Skywalker family, if we choose to pursue any. Not to mention that the Nubian queen could start to make a mess for us in the Galactic Senate, the same way she's gearing-up to inflict on the Trade Federation."
Master Yaddle leaned forward in her chair, her squinted green-gold eyes glaring at Qui-Gon Jinn's unrepentant pouting face as she expounded "We need to start setting examples of what happens to those who flaunt the Jedi Code and the arcana of the temple! Let Jinn be the first to suffer our renewed commitment to morality, actual order, lawfulness, and a genuine Light-Side mindset inside this community. I make the motion we demote the cad down to junior knight, and oblige a period of retraining under a senior master of this council's choosing, to make certain he understands his position, duties and obligations from now on."
Snorting nastily, the Lannik male senior master Even Piell opined venomously "We should punt the useless dreg to the Agricorps! He'd be much more at his ease with his own vermiform kindred, lounging on heaps of steaming bantha poodoo between sleep cycles! I certainly wouldn't ask good, useful people like the Servicorps or the Antarian Rangers to accept such a Dxun leech inside their homes!"
Master Rancisis swayed sideways slightly in a serpentine manner that emphasized his annoyance at the subject of their debate. Hissing out his words like the poison-spitting serpent he was, the Thisspiasin male demanded "We need to make this decision strong enough to mark the collective minds of the Order, otherwise we will send a sign that we care only when errors can be seen by the public, or traced back to the council itself. We need to show that we punish malfeasance BECAUSE it is in itself malfeasance that should never have happened. Furthermore, while being a Jedi is indeed a career, it is before anything else a vocation of faith in the Force, our Holy Mother. Considering this, we must impress upon the rank & file members that any attempt to place personal status or promotion above the Will of the Force, or the needs of the Galaxy, will see sanctions applied quickly and firmly. We must not accept platitudes and outright lies from our members when addressing matters of uncivilized behavior or lawlessness! At worse, expel the incorrigible bastards! Dump the true felons on Republic Security's doorstep, if need be! Sending a few to the Force-null cells of the anti-Jedi prison, the Citadel, would certainly set the tone for future cases!"
Master Windu looked around, getting firm and determined acquiescence from each senior master through the Force. Having his information, he raised his voice to put forward the actual motions to be voted. "As the exalted of this council have deliberated, so is it proposed; senior knight Qui-Gon Jinn is now found to be derelict in his duties as a knight, a trainer, overall Jedi of the Light-Side, and member of the Coruscanti temple. He has endangered the relations of our community with several nations and the Galactic Senate itself. As such, it is motioned that he be relieved of his padawan's tutelage, be demoted to junior knight, be placed under the punitive supervision of a Master of Discipline, that he re-pass the Trials of Seniority if appropriate, and that he be under tight management until his retirement from active service. How say you all?"
As Jinn quivered fearfully in his boots, senior master Even Piell added brusquely "Make him undergo the antique Rite of Penance! He's gotten away with far too much! Some publicly applied personal consequences that he can't escape would do him some lasting good, for once!"
Completely aghast, Qui-Gon exclaimed loudly "Master Piell! How can you say this? Surely such barbaric rite is unnecessary for such minor infractions as mine! Not to mention that grand-master Yoda will certainly review and amend the adjudication when he sees what was so unjustly inflicted upon me! In fact, given that the current composition of the high council is only temporary, I appeal the judgement! I demand that the entire case be set back until such time as grand-master Yoda, the true leader of the Coruscanti Jedi Order is back in his legitimate place."
Snarling rabidly, Piell countered "And that, right there, boy, is why I want to see you tied to a post in the courtyard for a good and sound lashing! The old crud Yoda will probably hemm & haw then try some stupid, numb-brained scheme to counter the punishments we impose, but he won't be able to do anything about your thick, oily hide getting tanned right & proper! And with all the members present in the temple as witnesses, too! You try to get out of that consequence, you depraved mongrel! It's high damned time you were made responsible for your perfidies! Like when you abandoned your padawan to slavers for a whole bloody year! Because, no!, we didn't forget about that pile of shyte ye shat on the poor lad, you ill-bred cur!"
Master Windu demanded aloud "A motion to administer the antique Rite of Penance has been posed to the council. How say you?"
To the surprise of only Qui-Gon, every senior master in the room agreed to the entirety of the punishments proposed, even the public whipping which was reserved only for those cases so grave that the step afterwards was a formal criminal trial and imprisonment in the Citadel. Qui-Gon could barely believe what was happening as the doors opened to let in a quad of Temple Guards dressed in thick white & gold armor. The guards unceremoniously grabbed his lightsaber from his hands as they were bound behind his back in Force suppression cuffs, then dragged the limp, numb-minded man out of the council room silently. Once the doors had closed, grand-master du-jure Plo Koon gestured at Obi-Wan Kenobi to walk forward, to the center of the floor.
- Resolving Obi-Wan Kenobi's situation -
The Keldor male joined his hands in front of his chest as he exhaled a calming breath that hissed noisily through his breathing apparatus, allowing himself the time to recline into the chair's backrest to calm down from dealing with Yoda and Jinn. Normally, Plo regretted having to wear the mask that covered his eyes and mouth, for while it allowed him to leave his native environment it also hid his features, making him seem unapproachable to his fellow sentients. In the current situation, he truly despised the damnable device. He could sense much anguish and self-deprecation coming from the senior padawan who stood amongst them, awaiting judgement, but couldn't even smile or wink at the young man to help ease his anxieties. The good part of being Jedi though, was that he did have a deep and powerful affinity for the Force, which he used to gently touch the human teenager's mind to impart care, peace and safety, in a way that words and gestures never could.
Master Windu spoke gently, as he too realized that Obi-Wan Kenobi was about to inflict a stress migraine on himself, and possibly a panic attack. "You can stand at rest, Kenobi. The council has no quarrels with you. We do however need to complete our arbitration of the Naboo mission, and all the troubles that resulted." Turning towards the Quermian master, Windu asked "Yarael, you seem to have a comment? I can feel your intentions echo in the Force."
Nodding, the Quermian male angled his long neck forward, aiming deep red eyes at the padawan-learner that was now adrift through no fault of his own. The elder master furled all four of his arms back into his robes, adopting a more restful pose. "Young Kenobi has endured far too much already, during his padawanat. He was taught only the bare minimum due to Jinn being so underqualified to serve as tutor. Then he was abandoned to slavers for a year, which Jinn tried to hide under the guise of a meditative retreat to help the boy center himself on the Force. And when he returned to us, Yoda did everything he could to silence the boy's account of his harrowing experience, especially the betrayal he suffered from his teacher. Today again, Yoda tried to lay the blame for all of Jinn's depravities on him, having no care for either facts or guilt, as he rushed a false resolution down all our throats. I believe it is time to take all these events into account, as we adjudicate the young man's future amongst our Jedi brethren."
Master Koon grunted noisily, admitting "Yes, I agree. We have let pass far too much of Yoda's special brand of faith to say we are not complicit. We need to revise this student's entire file and life, in order to commit an honest and fair arbitration, for once in his tenure. Claiming to be guided by the Light of the Force whilst hiding behind the lies of perverts and monsters must not be the regular management method of this Order. I hope that Kenobi's case will serve as a template for handling such situations, and help dissuade ill-intents or malfeasance amongst the knights and masters. In fact, over the years of my own career, I have heard about graduating and senior padawans who were skirting the edges of the Jedi Code, and even the limits of basic morality, in such way that they should be put under Revision as well. The worst in this depravity is that they are abetted by knights and masters, some of which are already known for being internal threats that Yoda keeps hiding in the temple's abandoned areas, when he isn't cuddling them to his heart. What are your thoughts, my colleagues?"
Master Piell exclaimed "Now, that's a leader! Take the nexu by the fangs and wrestle it down! Maybe we can give the temple's cleanup a good start, maybe even make it good enough that Yoda can't undo it, if he ever returns as grand-master." Aiming his only eye at the human student standing between them, Piell stated loudly "This boy endured enough to be knighted already! Ah! Just toughing through Jinn's perfidies in itself should qualify him as a ranger-lieutenant, or a ship's manager if he were in the Servicorps. We need to recognize that, and appoint a real teacher this time! He needs a good boost to his combat abilities, and some emotional support to recover fully from his botched padawanat. He did better and more reliably than most junior knights would have, in that position."
Master Rancisis nodded, making his entire torso bob and his chaotic pile of white hairs tremble like a small avalanche as he agreed with his younger colleague of the council. "Yes, the boy has shown much potential, and also accomplished much. I would propose that we appoint the venerable master Dranath, the only member of the rare Drider species currently in our Order. He is officially retired for three years now, but he specialized in the history of Sith combat techniques & armaments, along with a broader study of national warfare in general. Since his passing from active duty, he has in fact served as history teacher for the initiates and junior padawans, due to getting a teaching certification a few years back, during a prolonged medical leave."
Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, never the most emotional or empathic of Jedi, hummed lowly as he nodded his accord to the proposals. "My fellow masters, I suggest we officially induct padawan Kenobi to the graduating class, under the care of venerable master Dranath, but with the caveat that a council's injunction forever bars both Yoda and Qui-Gon Jinn from having any say in his studies, discipline, career path, or life as a Jedi of the Light-Side. They have both shown utterly incompetent as teachers, and uncaring of his welfare, thus should be removed from any position of authority over him ahead of any further events. The rest of the decisions can be left to Dranath, if he accepts to be entrusted with completing Kenobi's education to knighthood."
Silent up to now, the senior master Sinube, a Cosian male of advanced age with mottled-green skin, gold eyes and snow-white hair, raised his voice to speak on a matter of no small importance. "Excuse my rudeness in scratching at a still healing injury, young learner, but do you think that your presence would be seen as an insult or indisposition by the Naboovian queen? As you have experience with her people and seen already the forces arrayed against her, continuing to emplace you in their entourage would be logical. It would also spare us the public indignity of still depending on Qui-Gon Jinn to complete the mission."
Frowning in concentration, Obi-Wan thought through the interactions he had with the Nubians during the escape and hyperspace trip, but could see nothing that would impugne him directly, unlike for his ex-master. Addressing the elder master directly, the teenager answered honestly "I don't believe that my personal behavior or attitude caused the Naboovians any problems. It was rather visible that Qui-Gon was in a world of his own, and I was simply being dragged along at the end of a chain like an unwilling dog." Sighing deeply, Kenobi stated plainly "However, if by continuing the Naboo mission you want me to keep close to Anakin Skywalker, then you will be somewhat disappointed. His mother Shmi is quite the Loth-cat, able to sense trouble from a lightyear away, and queen Amidala has shown a keen interest in the small family's welfare. Especially as they are now legally citizens and diplomatic personnel of Naboo."
Mace Windu asked for clarification "Are you saying that you would be unwilling to carry-out the surveillance, or that any agent would be unable due to the heightened alertness of the adults around the boy? Surely the Nubians don't see the Jedis as threats?"
Shaking his head negatively, Kenobi countered "No, not all Jedis, only those close to Jinn and his quest for prophetic elevation. Other, more conventional, members of our Order should have no troubles establishing cordial relations with the queen and her government. But still, they are aware of our interest, if only because any sentient born with all of his male DNA replaced by midi-chloridians does in fact constitute a biological anomaly assigned to our purview under Republic Law. As such, I do believe they know we will petition for continued access to the boy, and his mother as well, but they will not relinquish any sort of authority. Besides, since they have a recording of master Yoda declaring publicly the child was already far too old to enter as initiate, even the Courts and Senate would be hard-pressed to adjudicate against their claim of prerogative. Plus, the fact the boy was born outside the Republic, and in slavery too…"
Mace Windu nodded his acceptance of the padawan's thought-process as he stated calmly "That corresponds to the evaluation the shadows assigned to watching the Naboo embassy have written. Do you perchance have a more cooperative option in mind, to watch the child under friendly terms? I think we would rather avoid making enemies of the Nubians and their feisty queen. The bleatings from Cato-Neimoidia are not something I want to experience in this temple."
Shrugging, Kenobi replied "Well, if he can't be entered as a regular initiate, why not enroll him as an irregular student? In the millennia before the Ruusan Reformation, it was uncommon but not truly rare for children of planetary monarchs, elected senators or galactic high bureaucrats to send children with low Force potential as boarding pupils. These children would normally not have been enrolled as they had far too low a midi-chloridian count to indicate a potential danger to devolve into full-Sith, if unguided by Light-Side Jedi mentors. On the other side, it has happened that the Senate emitted a Writ of Clanhold to allow a politically or militarily powerful family to keep in their own lands & authority a highly Force sensitive child, so long as he had a live-in Jedi tutor to ensure he didn't turn to the Dark-Side and its inherent madness. In most of these cases, the Clan actually permitted their child to attend the Temple part-time, as a way to show they valued the Republic's law, harmony and peace, and to solidify relations with the Jedi hierarchy." Scratching at his chin in thought, Obi-Wan opined "With a slight bit of acceptance and flexibility on the part of our community, such an agreement should be easy to craft and put in effect. However, given Anakin Skywalker's own incredible acumen in dealing with anything related to trade, mercantile, or financial affairs, you had better involve him in the negotiations from the start. Put a pre-written contract on the table while telling him he's bound by it 'done-deal', and the next thing you'll see is the exhaust from his ship's ion drives as he flies away back to Naboo, no counter-offers necessary."
Snorting in amusement, master Koon agreed with the padawan. "Yes, that does seem a self-evident conclusion, but I do believe it was good that you spelled-it out for us, just in case we missed it. This child has been raised in a world far different than our peaceful and sheltered temple. If we accept him as a part-time boarding student, we will need to recognize his diplomatic status and his official positions for the Nubian government. As a salaried worker with a security clearance that allows him Senatorial Passage, he will not tolerate being treated like an initiate or even a junior padawan. Which of course brings us to how do we educate him, and how to mentor him? Do we insist on his having a dedicated master, or would he be fully autonomous, flitting between classes at need?"
Master Poof shrugged that one away easily, declaring "Both, my friends. Assign him a master as referential adult to act In Loco Parentis as with all the other initiates and padawans, but have his study schedule be loosely structured, so he can accomplish all the tasks the Naboo will give him as part of his paying job. Most of the religious ceremonies and prayers our monastic lifestyle imply would be of no use to him, so removing those from his obligations should create enough free periods each day to satisfy the basic needs of his employ. We can modify the timetables further as necessary. Besides, if things progress as I foresee, he should be able to concentrate fully on academics and the Force whence in our temple, and on all other matters when he goes to the ambassy, Senate, or back to Naboo for the obligatory social festivals and policy meetings."
Master Ki-Adi-Mundi wondered amusedly "You see the child being involved in meetings for national policy and governance at his age, Yarael? Surely that is just a phase, while the Naboo are still unsettled by the Trade Federation. They will treat him as a normal youngling when everything calms down, yes?"
"Humph, apologies, my masters," began Obi-Wan timidly, "but I do believe that Anakin Skywalker will in fact be implicated directly and intimately with the queen of Naboo and her government for the foreseeable future, long after the blockade has been resolved and peace reigns on their planet. The child has simply been too instrumental in the Naboovian humans' crafting of strategies and tactics to win the fight. Their governing officials will never simply warehouse him in our temple until their populace forget about his vital contributions to their liberation from armed oppression. We must account of this, if we wish for a successful relationship with the Nubian citizenry at large, and the elected monarchs in particular."
Master Windu griped a mild remonstrance at his colleagues "And I would take this moment to remind you all -again- that when given by the monarchs of a national government, Diplomatic Status, Privilege and Immunities are reputed to be enacted for the duration of the entity's life, plus one hundred years after death to safeguard any state secrets they may have been privy to. That has been Republic Law since before the Pius Dea crusade fleet left to colonize the savage countries, some 13,000 years back. Do try to remember this, in case you have to meet with senators, monarchs or diplomats. As all of your jobs entail."
Huffing and giggling at Windu's thickly laid and obvious sarcasm, the senior masters used the small segue to loosen the tension in the chamber's atmosphere, and to give the teenaged learner some breathing room to calm his frayed nerves. After a few minutes of amusement shared between old working friends, the council bent its collective wisdom back to the situation of Naboo.
Grand-master Plo Koon gestured amicably at the assembly, getting the masters back to a more placid orderliness, to continue the debate. "Tell us, Obi-Wan Kenobi, if you were in charge of settling the fight on Naboo, what solution would you favor?"
The padawan surprised the senior Jedis by shrugging the concern away, answering "I would let the Nubians handle their mess themselves. They have proven to be wily, adaptable and quite ruthless, in comparison to the Trade Federation's primitive ham-fisted approach. The queen has accepted the boy's suggestions to take the fight to the legal and financial arenas, where the TF leadership gave an appearance of dominance, but actually proved quite vulnerable. If the young monarch manages to cut-off or severely curtail the TF's monetary flow, and also worry the stockholders enough to trigger a sell-out on the galactic markets, then the illegal occupation & blockade will end within days, a few weeks at most. My advice is to send observers, but not to engage directly. Besides, now that the child has begun his overtake of the TF's droids successfully, we simply wouldn't easily make the difference between enemies and allies, so best to stay out of the fight completely."
Master Sinube snorted in gallows humor, as he stated "A leader should always be weary of cowardice, laziness and betrayal amongst his ranks. While droids can be programmed against the first two situations, they can also be falsely programmed by an internal traitor, or virulated by an external agent, into committing the aforementioned betrayal. Something the Trade Federation's managers never quite seem to remember, when they battle. Pity for them, really, that Anakin Skywalker is such an adept hacker, slicer and cybernetics programming expert. The small exemplar of droid OS and apps you managed to obtain from his ex-owner Wattoo was quite the compelling read, young Kenobi. The robotics experts and I were most entertained, indeed."
Master Windu asked, genuinely interested "Has the child's effort to undermine the TF droid forces been that good? Has it given results already?"
Nodding, Obi-Wan replied "Yes, master Windu. The last report received aboard the Chromilluxian before we descended to atmosphere showed that barely 48 hours into the process had yielded several hundred droids, including an astounding number of droidekas, plus hyena-class and vulture-class space fighters. Some of Theed's more ambitious astromechs even managed to convert thousands of B1 and B2 droids by stowing aboard landing barges and corrupting the OS of several multi-troop transports carrying units for field duty. The result being that several of the barges, MTT's and even some tanks, have been converted over to Nubian loyalty. This means that when the signal is sent out by the queen or her field commanders, the TF blockade officers will experience a schism in their troop numbers that I do not see them recovering from. Plus, if Anakin's plan is what I believe it to be, he may have even managed to get corrupted droids onto the Lucrehulk control vessel in orbit, to sabotage the droid network, or maybe their primary reactors to make the ship explode. We shall soon see."
Master Koon rubbed at his short tusks pensively as he declared the council's new policy on Naboo. "Very well. We shall adopt a policy of observance and analysis, for the time being. Besides, the Nubian queen is scheduled to appear in the Senate tomorrow morning. The results of that session should grant us sufficient enlightenment to decide how to proceed in the coming weeks, if we are needed to be involved. Padawan Kenobi, the council thanks you for your contributions and insights; they were quite valuable, and appreciated. We will contact master Dranath and arrange for your meeting, sometime tomorrow evening or the day after. In the meanwhile, we are allowing you the time necessary to recover, and move your personal effects out of Jinn's quarters. Besides, he'll be going back to junior knight lodgings, so he'll need to vacate the place too. Take the time he will be indisposed in the cells, doing his due penance, to move out peacefully and without hindrance. Ask for our help, if you feel overwhelmed by events, or emotions. That is our duty towards you, after all."
Bowing deeply from the waist, Obi-Wan Kenobi thanked the masters and left the council chamber to attend his affairs. The senior masters took a short break to use the toilets and get some food from the small service counter hidden behind a curtain, so they could work on cleaning-up the Order as much as their short 30 day interval would allow. They were working against the clock, but also against the several hundred criminals and unworthy curs that had been protected by Yoda over the last two centuries of his decline. Add to this the assurance that Yoda would throw a fit at them and try his damnedest best to undo every last positive change they would make, just as soon as his exclusion was over, unless they managed to have him voted out of office for the rest of his career.
The Senate session that changes many multivaried things
(The Godfather – Speak Softly, Love - 1972)
Ruusan 968 (Anakin 9 years old)
Galactic Senate rotunda
Coruscant geopolis
The Nubian delegation consisting of queen Amidala, her juvenile protector Anakin Skywalker, Chommel sector senator Sheev Palpatine, and a pair of embassy bureaucrats walked into the cavernous Senate Floor chamber to sit in their pod, in the middle-heights of the room's tall wall. The ovoid room was quite eerie for the young child, as he glanced at the thousands of pods that extended from the walls like drab-grey parasites stuck to the hide of a dewback. Which, given these pods housed politicians, bureaucrats, and multitudes of crime syndicate liaisons or bosses, was a fair comparison to make. A few minutes after the queen's entourage were seated arrived three new people who placed themselves in the last seats, at the rear of the crowded pod which was now full to capacity.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed senator Palpatine in mild amusement at the sight of the late arrivals. "I do hope the pod's repulsors can handle that load. I haven't seen that much flimsiplast stacked so densely in one location since my last visit to the Theed archives, during my first senatorial campaign." The treasonous old man was deeply buried in his affable persona as the wise old mentor today, something he actually found quite comfortable to do, after so many years of practice.
Anakin, seated right between the queen and senator, frowned at the sight of so much solid matter wasted when a few good crystal isochips would have done the job. Asking the elder man on his right, the child enquired "Why do they need to have that on flimsi? It's so wasteful! All that data could hold in a single tablet, or a clutch of chips. Why are they doing things this way?"
Smiling in a slightly less than kind manner, Palpatine explained "It's an old trick for public speaking. You see, people in general have little idea of the true power over reality that words, numbers, images and graphics hold." The senator's rich core-world accent washed over Anakin as he raptly listened to the wisdom offered, learning it with a speed and attention most teens twice his age would be unable to muster, impressing Sheev again with his dedication and character. "When you want to look erudite, to affect an air of having more solid facts than your opponents, you print them and wave around the folios during your orison. It will visually grab the attention of your audience, and mesmerize the weaker minds into believing you did indeed do more work, plow through more data, and have a better comprehension of the subject matter, than your opponent who is relying on a pad or direct holo-display. Now, it's not a panacea, but it has -some- efficacy, especially when you have a crowd larger than two hundred people. Or for holonet broadcasts, since nobody can ask to see what you're holding in your hands to verify."
Snorting in amusement at the cheap parlor tricks, Anakin opined tartly "That sounds like the street performer's tricks that con-man Jinn used to do all the time. Then again, the Jedi temple is just a few blocks away from here, so I guess they had to learn their dishonesty from somewhere."
Queen Amidala who had just finished speaking with one of the ambassy attachés heard the last of Anakin's comment and couldn't quite silence the surprised, and rather darkly amused, scoff that escaped her. Pivoting in her seat slowly to make sure her heavily robed, wigged and painted form remained as august and impressive as she was supposed to represent, the fourteen-year-old girl grinned at her friend, as she wagged a finger at him in playful admonition. "Now, now, Ani! Don't go blaming the diplomats and bureaucrats for the Jedis' bad manners. I'm quite certain we learned our unfair share of their deplorable superstitions, too, over the years. Having a sect of religious zealots as neighbors will do bad things to a district, I tell you!"
Both smirking young ones turned to studiously look at the large two-tiered pod that was now elevating from the central hole in the lower floor, to avoid paying attention to poor senator Palpatine who seemed to have developed an odd conniption that had him spasming with a hand covering his mouth to muffle sounds. They were thus witness to the arrival of the Supreme Chancellor Finis Valorum, vice-chair of the chancelry Mas Amedda, and four senatorial secretaries in the pod's secondary tier, just under the two high officials. Once finished elevating to the middle of the empty space, the pod's lights changed to signify the beginning of the session, and a light-toned bell sounded to get people's attention on the proceedings.
One of the unidentified secretaries pushed a button on his desk, speaking in the comms "Good morning to all gentlebeings gathered for this session of our august Galactic Senate's general assembly. The redacted reports of the last session have been made available on the usual servers since this past midnight. Given that no outstandings from the last session remain, we will now proceed with the measures of exception and the points of order. Chancellor Valorum, please."
Standing from his chair, Finis Valorum looked around the senate chamber, making eye contact with allies and opponents alike, displaying with arrogant ease the finely tailored black and dark blue robes of his office, along his snow-white hair and dark penetrating eyes that saw far more than people were comfortable with sharing in political circles. The elderly human male put his finger on the button to activate the microphone in his desk, then ordering politely but in a tone of voice that few dared challenge; "We will begin with the measures of exception. A petition from the people of Chommel sector, in the name of one of their constituents, the system Naboo, is the only one on docket. Afterwards we will inspect the points of order, then the regular business that is scheduled for continuation. If the senator from Chommel could please make his presence known?" Then he sat back, reclining at ease in his plush chair as the Naboo pod detached from the wall to come hover before the chancelry's dais.
Once situated in the air before the nominal masters of the galaxy, senator Palpatine rose to speak for his queen, and their neighbors inside Chommel. "My dear supreme chancellor Valorum, esteemed colleagues of the senate, we come this morning to again plead with you to grant us reprieve and assistance in our plight versus the spurious claims of the Trade Federation. As we speak, their foul droid armies are trampling our soil, wrecking our homes and injuring, even killing, our poor citizens! These illegal and outright criminal acts must be brought to a stop! It is for this to become reality that I now present the elected sovereign of the afflicted planet Naboo, queen Amidala, regent monarch of the Naboovian government. Majesty, please?"
The elder statesman held his hand out for the young queen to grab as she stood to her feet, then they both patted Anakin on the shoulders as they retracted their hands, an automatic gesture neither had planned nor agreed on, but that amused the child if his face was an indicator to be trusted. Now well visible by the audience and the holonet cameras, queen Amidala grabbed the pod's banister with both hands, affecting a regal pose that exuded confidence, authority and determination much at odds with her current predicament, crushed under the boot of the Trade Federation's armies. "My good and esteemed fellow monarchs, regents, governors, senators and other officials of the million worlds gathered here today! We come to you in the hopes that you will grant us assistance and succor, in arbitrating this disaccord that aggrieves us against our far-removed neighbors of Cato-Neimoidia."
Queen Amidala took a breath then began her principal presentation; "To this effect, we would like to remind you of why this blockade and occupation of our sovereign territory was done. Earlier this year I had just been elected as queen and found my nation to be teetering on the brink of critical food shortages and trade deficits caused by the isolationism of the three previous queens. Consequently, I immediately organised a much-needed summit for all the Chommel sector governments to discuss an opening of our territorial management styles, specifically for agriculture and food transformation, as well as trade of basic necessities between local peoples. On the last day of the summit, when the last delegate had left into hyperspace, the Trade Federation barged-in with a fleet of heavily, and quite illegally, modified cargo vessels carrying thousands of combat droids, which they promptly began to disembark. Their goal was declared to us in these official diplomatic transmissions, entered into the senate records per the standard protocols for international communications. As you can see, the TF want us to sign a treaty that would subordinate our lands and any inhabitants to the whims of TF leadership and stockholders, without any possible arbitration by any entity or group not signatory of the treaty, including this august Senate or the Republic Courts."
Gesturing slowly and carefully with both hands to demonstrate her self-control yet inhabit the space around her in the pod to liven her orison, queen Amidala laid into her last phrase; "I do believe that each person in this august assembly knows by heart the core tenet of the Galactic Senate – NOTHING is ever outside the purview or authority of the Senate, nor of the Republic Courts, and any treaty, contract or law passed in any level of member nations, sector management, or the Galactic senate itself, must abide this or be declared void by executive decree of the chancelry upon the moment of discovery. This, of course, means that any attempt to plan or put in motion such unlawful acts, treaties, contracts or laws are considered 'criminal conspiracy for extortion' at worse, and 'effort to undermine the Galactic Republic governance' at the very least. Both charges leading to severe fines and prison time, as you are well aware. And yet, here we stand, today, with the written proofs and copies of the communications from the Trade Federation that aims to do just that: undermine the rule of Galactic Law by creating a treaty to enact a zone of space where the Senate and Courts would have their authority reduced to less than what they can enforce inside the space of Zyggeria or the Hutts! How can this be legal, I ask of you gentlebeings?"
At this point, Sheev Palpatine wasn't scared for his plans. He had spent decades fomenting and conspiring with the best of them, and provided his allies inside the bureaucracy with a fool-proof bypass, if ever this point of order was brought out in public. Legally, the Trade Federation was utterly exposed and defenseless against such charges, as they did just as accused. However, the sub-plot Palpatine put in place should slow down the process enough for the TF to negotiate something with chancellor Valorum in private, away from the holonet reporters and opposing senators. With the main body-blow dampened, the TF could come again at the Naboo with a different more subtle tactic, under a more competent leader than the fool Nute Gunray. Perhaps Darth Maul should be assigned the menial housekeeping chore of dispatching the toady's carcass to the acid rivers of Vjun? Hummm…
{ SW } - { Queen Amidala unleashed } - { SW }
(Star Wars – Imperial March)
Chancellor Valorum stood from his chair, his face like a block of sculpted marble as he intoned formally "A grave accusation has been spoken against members in good standing of this august body. Would the Trade Federation representatives come forward to speak their defense?"
Finally, the TF pod detached from the wall, bringing forth a small delegation of four Neimoidians, amongst them the TF's senator Lott Dod, the TF viceroy Nute Gunray, his personal aide of the year, and a military officer who was in contact with the Saak'ak, an illegally modified Lucrehulk vessel that served as official flagship of the Trade Federation, currently orbiting Naboo to lead the occupational forces. Invisible but viewing through a dedicated diplomatic holonet device built into the pod's banister, was the Neimoidian settlement officer Rune Haako, the overall manager of the Naboo blockade & occupation campaign. When the slow-moving conveyance had finally positioned besides the Nubian pod, Nute Gunray stood to glare malevolently at the human girl-child that was causing such considerable troubles for what had been deemed a simplistic and easily winnable little skirmish. Turning towards the chancellor, Gunray shouted loudly with wide gesticulations that displayed his lack of control and aggressive temperament for all to see.
"We object to these defamatory and utterly perjurious claims!" the middle-aged Neimoidian shouted angrily, and getting angrier as he went. "We will not have the impeccable reputation of the Trade Federation and its members be tarnished by an uneducated, unexperienced leader who was elected less than a quarter-year ago! And I will remind you that at age 14, this -child- is in her first ever true employment, and first ever public service mandate! She clearly doesn't have the knowledge or understanding of complex sectorial or galactic processes needed to stand in the Senate to make such declarations! If the Naboo wanted to be taken seriously, they would have sent an adult of experience, not a figurehead! This can only serve as proof that they have no idea what is going on!"
Frowning, chancellor Valorum stated tersely "That is enough, viceroy! Your litany of insults and aspersions of doubts upon queen Amidala do not in any way make a word you say true! Her character is not in doubt here, as she is not the one with an army orbiting lands not her own! You are the aggressor here, as is visible to the naked optics of every sentient in this session! Now! Do you have an actual defense to justify your invasion of the sovereign world of Naboo?"
Shrugging disingenuously, Nute Gunray lied through his teeth in a patently transparent effort to both defuse the matter and set the blame on somebody else, while making it look like he may well have been misled by foreign parties on top of all else. "I see no aggression in what you are speaking of, my good lord chancellor. Our intelligence officers were informed of a large gathering of several dozen heavily armed vessels around the small and relatively defenseless world of Naboo, but were short on actual information concerning the details of the matter. We had just finished preliminary training maneuvers for our new droid army on Geonosis, an ally of ours, when the messages started arriving. As I was aboard the new flagship for the post-training review, I audited the messages with my staffers and decided to do an impromptu trip to Naboo, just to be certain nothing grave happened to the small, isolated community. Upon arrival we were greeted by several mixed messages from conflicting parties, some of which pleaded for us to come to the surface, to succor them from -unspecified- dire straits, whilst others were actually threatening to unleash -vague- menaces and weapons of doom upon our flotilla, if we stayed in Naboovian space. After another consultation with my staffers, I decided to commit a small force of landing troops to ascertain events from first-person perspective. That is all that happened on Naboo. If anybody is so much as hinting otherwise, I will have them humbled and pauperized before the Republic Courts for their defamation and specist spiel!"
Queen Amidala emitted a small laugh of dark amusement as she countered Gunray with acid words. "The threats of Trade Federation lawyers pauperizing sentients in the courts on account of baseless charges facilitated by your excellent holonet slicers and VR-artists do indeed make many an honest entity shake in fear of your boorish temper and churlish attitude, viceroy. But you will find that it takes more than such paltry artifices to rattle a queen of Naboo! As for making baseless defamation against you, well…" Queen Amidala gestured for one of the three lawyers in the back of the pod to come forward. "Here is a well-known figure of the Coruscanti judicial scene, the right honorable master legate Demetrios Yisan Vorhies, esquire, senator emeritus of Chommel sector, from before senator Palpatine graced us with his inestimable services."
There was quite the tittering and hawing as the venerable old human male from Naboo slowly made his way to the front of the pod, to stand by the young queen who had to assist him in situating his small monticule of flimsiplast on the shelf built into the inside of the banister for such purpose. Smiling in faint amusement and candid acceptance of all the brouhaha any Senate session implied, the elderly lawyer spoke softly, trusting the microphones around the pod to amplify his voice as necessary to be understood across the entire cavernous hall.
"Supreme chancellor Valorum, my good colleagues of the Senate, and associated reprobates of ill-repute from the legal professions, I bid thee all a fine morn," master Vorhies began his allocution, causing further hilarity in the pods, and far away via holonet. "We have heard the summary dismissal of charges by the Trade Federation's highest officials, along the viceroy's trite explanations, each one as full of holes as the Maw of Kessel, and just as dangerous. I now posit for you the true facts of this deplorable situation. Please attend the holonet devices, as they will now show you the reality lived by the Naboo."
Over the next fifteen minutes, a series of incredibly short communications between the Trade Federation's flagship Saak'ak and the Nubian government, displaying viceroy Nute Gunray and queen Amidala themselves, with a few minor officials in the background of each party involved. All in all, the totality of comms time between the two monarchs before the blockade was roughly nine minutes, and two seventeen second bursts of automated signals from the traffic management beacons of both Naboo and the TF convoy. It was also painfully obvious who had contacted who, and why. Viceroy Gunray's first message saying they were arriving following rumors of Naboo trying to build an anti-TF mercantile coalition to force them out of the local markets was transparent. If a commercial pact was being established to favor local trade, that most assuredly didn't require military intervention. The second message with Gunray declaring that he was going to send a messenger with a treaty "…that had better be signed or he'd overtake the entire solar system in compensation for having wasted his time…" was even more deplorably obvious. After that was a recording of Naboo governor Sio Bibble, an elderly human gentleman dressed in fine Nubian robes, who was heard to plead with queen Amidala to return to Naboo to sign the treaty before more of their citizens were killed, as evidenced by a film of Nute Gunray himself presiding over the first round of executions that happened the very day the queen had managed to leave the planet to seek help on from the Senate.
Then the Nubian lawyer showed the written text of the treaty the Neimoidians wanted signed, as transmitted to queen Amidala directly via diplomatic bandwidth, emanating from the flagship Saak'ak and bearing the personal diplomatic codes of Nute Gunray, with those of Rune Haako as witness to the procedure. Upon reading through the first sections of the treaty that declared an absolute exclusion of all Republic Senate & Court authority, management or purview in the solar system and related matters, the Senate Hall erupted in a cacophony of protests and shouts aimed at the Trade Federation's pod and the chancelry pod in equal measures. When master Vorhies then pointed out several clauses in the treaty that essentially turned Naboo into an indentured world and reduced its citizens to slaves similar to what was known on Zyggeria, then the crowd of monarchs, senators, governors, lawyers and bureaucrats exploded into a vociferous maelstrom of indignation and red-seeing rage. This was increased tenfold when it was showed that the final chapter of the treaty would hand over all Senatorial rights, privileges and immunities of the Naboo over to viceroy Gunray in his personal name, especially the voice & vote on the Senate floor. In effect, this illegal accord had the perverse effect of elevating the Trade Federation leader to the status of sovereign nation unto himself. This, along with placing him above and beyond the reach of all laws, including those of his native country, which would be transportable with his being anywhere in the galaxy. This usurpation of the Nubian sovereignty was abhorrent, but to so scurrilously hijack the fundamental laws, authority and privileges of the Galactic Senate was clear sedition and treason that none could contest or gloss over as miswording!
{ SW } - { And so enters bureaucracy, the plague of democracy } - { SW }
As vice-chair Mas Amedda stood to lean towards chancellor Valorum's ear, Sheev Palpatine spoke softly to queen Amidala, but Anakin seated between them heard everything, as the old man wanted to begin educating him away from Jedi teachings promptly. "And now enter the bureaucrats, the true power of the Republic's government and society. Without them, nothing gets accomplished in the material world. Without their approval, no law passes the Senate floor. And without their analysis, no judgement is issued in the courts. They are the totality of the Republic's living body; the nerves that carry information & decisions, the veins that carry resources to nourish or build, the muscles that move to action in defense of us, and the very skeleton that keeps the entire system in shape and orderly, so that it can function as needed when required. The Senate is the brains & willpower, and the Courts are the collective morality and determination, but nothing equals or outmatches the bureaucratic apparatus in complexity or all-encompassing totality. Just the inertia of their combined mass, when the chartered syndicates and professional orders choose to not take sides, is enough of a hurdle to insure the death of vital projects or the indefinite continuity of the most consternating mismanagements."
Frowning most mightily with pursed lips and clenched fists, Anakin glared at Mas Amedda from his seat, small and innocuous as any human child could be, and yet, for some reason known only to the Aethers of the Force, the vice-chair looked that way and accidentally locked eyes with the boy. Whatever he saw in that second was bad enough to make the blue-skinned Chagrian male spasm in fear and look away quickly, almost hiding behind Finis Valorum as he hasted to speak his arguments with the older official.
From Anakin's right side, Palpatine squinted his pale blue eyes as he gazed pensively at the uncharacteristic attitude of the usually self-controlled bureaucrat who was an integral part of his plans to scuttle the diseased old Republic governance. Then he looked sideways at the slave-boy and was utterly taken aback by just how much raw Dark-Side energy was floating freely inside his body, almost perceptible to the naked eye but never coming above the skin. At that moment Darth Sidious decided that this was indeed apprentice material, and Darth Maul had just seen his last moments of usefulness in his employ. If the boy could terrify an experienced public servant from a hundred feet away with just a grumpy gaze, imagine what he could do at age 18 with developed Force abilities!
Finally, after much gesturing and sounding the warning bell twice, supreme chancellor Valorum managed to get the Senate back to order so they could proceed with resolving this debacle. Addressing queen Amidala, the venerable statesman asked her loudly "Majesty Amidala! The gravity and complexity of what you bring us this day is too much to resolve in one morning! We have many facts to study and validate, before giving judgement. And then, as per protocol, the Trade Federation is allowed to present a rebuttal to the facts in evidence, before the final arbitration is rendered. In consideration of this complex process, will you acquiesce the chancelry's request to defer the matter to a special select committee of exceptions? It is the most honest and expedient manner to obtain justice for all parties involved. As the planet with an unwanted fleet hanging over its head, you get the first and last pick of the Senate members that would compose the committee, and would have an executive veto on all proposed members, aides, researchers and lawyers brought in to process the investigation."
Senator Palpatine stood suddenly to speak softly in queen Amidala's ear, leaning over Anakin to do so, willingly giving the boy access to the message he was conveying to their young monarch. "Majesty, I must beg you to consider this wisely. In the Senate's way of things, deferring to a committee is the polite method of removing an inconvenient matter from public view and opprobrium. The average duration for exceptions actually reaches in the 1 - 2 years. But, for a matter implying sedition AND treason by a seated national leader against the Senate itself, the deliberations could take 4 – 7 years! And this offers no guarantees of success as, over the years, many of the members assigned in the committee will end their senatorial tenure or lose elections, monarchs will transfer hereditary titles to their children, and many being elderly will simply die or retire. What I mean is that the calculus for success that you may see presently cannot reasonably be anticipated to survive the test of time & politics in a way that keeps-on favoring our position. This is especially true in light of the Trade Federation's vast monetary funds, and their uncanny abilities to bribe people into abiding their crassest wishes, despite whatever personal costs may befall them later."
Turning her head to lock eyes with Palpatine, the teenaged queen asked him in carefully neutral tones "And what would you have us do, in lieu of trusting a committee of our senatorial peers? Is there an alternative that could yield the necessary withdrawal of the Trade Federation's droid forces from Naboo?"
Affecting a sour face to sell the point as if he were loath to consider it, Palpatine detailed "In the Senate's protocols, a national monarch such as yourself can demand something a mere elected senator like myself cannot. You can ask the floor for a 'vote of non-confidence' against chancellor Valorum, to forcibly dismiss him from the chancelry before his allotted term expires. At which point, the Senate is legally obliged to process the vote before doing anything else. Once the result is known, then the Senate resumes debates upon current affairs, namely our case as it is already standing in-oratio. The chances of ending with a supreme chancellor that would be hostile to Naboo are almost negligible, majesty, as all those with a clear shot at the podium are allies or close friends."
Queen Amidala rested her right hand atop Anakin's blond hair, slowly rubbing his head in such a calming way that the boy closed his eyes and leaned against her to better accept the physical affection. Sighing deeply, the adolescent girl replied politely "I thank you for your wise advice, senator Palpatine. You have always served Chommel sector well, and the Naboo are particularly proud of your tenure amongst these august sentients. But, for today, I believe that a differing set of propositions and tactics must be employed, if our world is to be saved from enslavement."
The queen waited until the elder male was seated again to turn towards the central podium, gazing pensively upon the two highest officials of the Galactic Republic, at least one of who she knew to be corrupt and weak, while the other had garnered a reputation of fierce independence, honesty and character. "My dear and esteemed colleagues of the Senate! Our long-serving supreme chancellor has put before the people of Naboo a request to defer the matters at hand to a committee. A select special committee of exceptions. And I emphasize again; a SINGLE committee to investigate and arbitrate the fullness of the abhorrently vast conspiracy that was just uncovered. ONE. SINGLE. COMMITTEE!" the adolescent monarch finished on a soul-rending scream.
Crossing her arms over her deeply, flowingly robed yet still flat bosom, the juvenile queen seemed to stand a foot taller and a whole lot nastier than before. "I will answer you this, Finis Valorum! No! We will not entrust a single committee with this matter! And the reason why will become apparent under the none too gentle tutelage of master legate Vorhies, as he schools this assembly on the fundamentals of Republic Sovereignty, National Shared-Sovereignty and Sectorial Autonomous Management Accords, as per the constitution of our great democracy! Master legate, if you please?"
{ SW } - { The Naboovian Riposte } - { SW }
Standing besides his monarch, master legate Vorhies opened a folio to place it on the holonet device, letting the machine scan the sheet's crystal inlay to transfer the digital contents to the network for perusal by the Senate members. Once the small light that warned of the process being complete glowed, the elderly lawyer smiled widely in a display of satisfaction that had thousands of politicians shivering in dread, as they remembered that expression well, from decades past.
Addressing the chancelry as was proper decorum, master Vorhies spoke softly as ever; "My lord chancellor and vice-chair, if you could read the small excerpt I sent you, I will then allocute for the Senate chamber the tenets of the Naboovian demands and proposals, in the matters already standing in-oratio."
After a few minutes of tense delay, the Senate saw a wide toothy smirk spreading on chancellor Valorum's face whilst Mas Amedda seemed to be wilting in an abject mixture of fear, dread and apoplexy as he gazed at queen Amidala wide-eyed and gape-mouthed.
Seeing the reactions as the sign they were done reading, master Vorhies began his allocution; "My dear colleagues of the Senate, and especially the leadership of sovereign worlds and nations, I would repeat what my queen has already pointed out, and add my own scepticism, dismay, and utterly aghast disapproval of the chancelry's offered solution. ONE. SINGLE. COMMITTEE! No, that is not what we need! And most certainly not what we of the Naboo want!"
Taking a deep calming breath, the elder barrister grabbed onto the wide, low-hanging collar of his senatorial robes by the thumbs of both hands as he slowly turned to-&-fro to level an intimidating gaze at as many members of the assembly as he could look at from his central position. "If it please this Senate, I would begin by stating the most obvious fact; no single committee will ever be big enough, or have enough specialized research personnel, to cover all the multivaried depravities brought forth by the felonious conspiracy of the Trade Federation, its stockholders and contractors, against the very nature and existence of the Republic, the Senate, the Courts, and our democratically chosen manner of legislating or managing national affairs. Not a single committee has that much personnel, money, time, and legally endowed executive powers, to achieve any sort of credible resolution for any concerned, except the aforementioned conspirators, that is."
Speaking over the light grumbles of disagreement from the Trade Federation's pod next to him, master Vorhies explained his line of thought; "It is provided for in the founding laws of the Republic that some matters are of such complexity, or such vital import for international security and stability, that they were granted the benefits, and indeed the august privileges and prerogatives, of a Permanent Senatorial Commission that enables them to either enact immediate executive emergency decrees, or else charter as many Special Exception Committees as they deem necessary to accomplish their legislative, or investigative, mandates."
The venerable statesman began by hammering the most damnable piece of evidence; "Let us begin by the very basics any first-year student of Republic Law would be taught. In the Republic's constitution, since its very first iteration 25,000 years ago, exists a Permanent Commission for the 'Separation of local (national), sectorial and federative (Republic borders) spatial zones, authorities and management entailments'. This is the institution that establishes the geopolitical maps of the Republic's internal separations and their nomenclatures, then manages the sector and Republic-wide elections. They are the backbone apparatus upon which the chancelry trusts to recognize the national sovereignty of newly discovered (or created) countries, their cultural particularities, and eventually put on the docket the votes necessary to integrate the new member to the Senate and Republic Law at large. They are the body responsible for ensuring that sovereign seats (monarch, regent, governor, ambassador, counsul, proxy, etc…), elected senator sectorial seats, and the rare few 'curtesy' seats afforded to select unions, syndicates, professional orders, or intergalactic corporate groups, know and keep to their assigned stations in society and governance. And one such key component being that 'curtesy' seats do not enjoy Diplomatic Law, Privileges and Immunities like sovereign seats or the high-chancelry chairs. This commission manages the permanent workgroup that creates the master lists from which the Senate chooses the memberships for the Republican Constitutional Counsel and the Republican Diplomatic Concordance, the two principal adjuncts upon which the Republic's federal political system and Republic Courts architecture are articulated. This foundational commission of the Republic's charter has, since inception, control over federal customs & excise duties, inter-sectorial travel permits & taxation, the regulation of vehicular safety & transitway codes, and the much less popular task of riding herd over the Bureau of Standards, in charge of establishing the Republic Calendars, weight, volume, distance & time units, etc… So that we all have a basic idea of what we are saying when communicating between government levels."
Pursuing this important first salvo against the TF aggression, master Vorhies belabored the details further; "This means that at the very least, this commission should be seized with this matter as somebody had the bright idea of trying to bypass, or I should say -treasonously negate- the laws and authority prescribed in the constitution upon the sovereign nation of Naboo, and the Chommel sector where they dwell. Parking armed vessels of warfare above a sovereign world is an Act of War, as per the Republic's internal & international laws. This must either be approved in advance by the Senate during the course of a maneuver demanded by Republic Security Forces, or done at the request of the world in question, to help them repel outside enemies or criminal groups attempting to steal the planet. I remind all of you that the TF flotilla has neither senatorial permission, nor were they asked by the legitimately acknowledged government of Naboo, thus making this clearly an Act of War, as per the conventions in place. Furthermore, not to pick at nits, but so we must… The Trade Federation did not have inter-sector permits to move privately held -CORPORATE- battleships, of any tonnage, legally across administrative lines as they never logged a flight plan, paid permits, or even got ad-amicum-beneficum verbal permission from one of the local governments, to be welcomed without taxes & fees, or lengthy paperwork. And that is only the off-my-nose problems my team found in the four days since we received the mandate to handle this case. There is far more that we have yet to tabulate, evaluate and prescribe unto the appropriate authorities."
Now fully in the swing of the heady excitement of waging open battle on the Senate floor with all the galaxy watching, Master Vorhies lined-up his second broadside of arguments at the TF's hostile acts. "Now let us examine the second point; the Permanent Commission on the 'Security of the Republic and Borderlines' which has the charge of protecting our vast ensemble from outside enemies, and criminals trying to smuggle through our collective borders. However, it is that same commission which has the task of determining, mapping and then policing the territorial limits of each administrative sector. They are also in charge of the permanent federal program for the establishment of Sovereign Defenses that helps our nations to build and maintain both police and military institutions on their territory. This program is indeed vital to our collective peace of mind, since many of our most honest and peaceful nations, like Naboo, are barely able to patrol the solar system bearing their name, as they inhabit only one planet, and sparsely so. With such severe limits on both financial capacities and manpower to assume the burdens of policing, you can understand why military forces are usually symbolic or non-existent. Thusly, it is the primary task of the much-storied Republic Security Forces to charter ships and equip men to assume in-sector patrols between solar systems. These permanent regional police groups are officially known by the name of the sector, for ease of reference, no matter where they are actually garrisoned. As such, there is a Chommel reaction force, but it is accounted at a measly nine aging Consular-class cruisers, five ancient CR-045 corvettes, twenty-two fighting shuttles to bring men & machines to ground, and several hundred atmospheric or ground vehicles for last-mile intervention. Plus, they also employ a widely variable number of privately operated freighters, usually under contract for transporting emergency medical aid or administrative personnel to zones that are remote, but determined unlikely to experience hostile activities."
The old man smiled widely at the supreme chancellor, as he gestured amicably with an arm "This commission would definitely have to be on this urgent case, to figure out how it was that an entire warfaring fleet moved undetected by any local or sectorial sensor outposts & patrol ships, from planet Geonosis in the Arkanis sector, all the way to Naboo inside Chommel sector. Then, we must also ask more pointed questions of this commission's bureaucrats and the automated cybernetics that process most of the customer services. For I do indeed wonder, dear gentlebeings of the Senate, when exactly did the Trade Federation get the permits to own and operate such battleships? The size, number & power of weapons, number and equipment of fighters, and the number of war droids, are all severely regulated since the Ruusan Reformation, a millennia ago, subject to permitting & taxation processes under the auspices of the 'Security of the Republic and Borderlines' commission, along with many other items and minutiae. But! But, the Trade Federation has never logged demands for the permits to build, equip and operate such vehicles, weapons or droids inside of Republic borders. Atop this egregious illegality and immorality of clearly preparing to wage war and oppression on their neighbors, this jumped-up corporate entity that has NO SOVEREIGN RIGHTS of any sorts, also used said weapons to attempt the kidnaping, holding hostage, armed extortion and binding into slavery of the duly positioned monarchs, governors, regents and managers of the Senate member, the SOVEREIGN NATION of Naboo, in full view of all! And let us not forget that several thousand organic sentients, citizens of the Republic in full rights, have already been murdered by these unlawful ships, weapons and para-military contractors. All the false and spurious accusations of specism and racism levied against our good queen by Nute Gunray have absolutely nothing in hand to counter those established FACTS!"
Taking up his pile of flimsiplast folios, master legate Vorhies spoke in firm, evenly cadenced words, as he proffered the mass of paperwork at the chancellor's face, in full view of the Senate. "And those are just the most minimalistic evaluations that my office has managed to read through, get proof, and validate facts to present them in a comprehensible manner. As we speak, I have four complete floors inside my edifice, full of lawyers, researchers, reporters and secretaries, in the process of auditing witnesses, finding facts, proving them, and then transcribing them in the legally required manner for submission to the multitude of Permanent Commissions, Select Exceptions Committees, Standing Committees, courts and arbitration bureaus. In the coming weeks, I expect a veritable nebula of interrelated clusters of events shall come to be exposed to the Senate floor, thusly submerging the army of official Republic Security investigators and Senatorial auditors that will dig into this sordid crapulence. It will take months, perhaps even years, before we see the full light of day on these messy yet irrevocably interlinked criminal acts and corruptive endeavors. To whit, my office is now in the deplorable position of submitting the following to the Senate, as a secondary Measure of Exception to debate in-oratio, as we stand now."
Taking a deep breath to steady himself against the coming tempest he would unleash, master Vorhies declared "The sovereign nation of Naboo has no other recourse, in order to secure the time necessary for the Republic's many institutions and the Senate itself to elucidate this turpid atrocity, to emit a formal challenge to the presence of the Trade Federation on the Senate membership rolls, under the Aegis of Sovereign Law, Privileges and Immunities!"
The elder statesman had to wait a few seconds for the explosive shouts of confusion and anger to pass, then he detailed quickly "In the basics of our most foundational laws, stated clearly in the Republic Charter, any holder of a 'curtesy seat' in the Senate must follow certain laws & rules without any exceptions tolerated. And, among these obligatory rules is the fact that a corporate or syndicated entity cannot in any way, shape, or form, challenge the factual existence, or right of existence, of a Sovereign national entity that is duly enshrined into a sovereign seat of our most august Galactic Senate! The very moment that the person or group holding a 'curtesy seat' commits any act that physically destroys, damages, keeps from ruling or governing, or challenges the inherent Right of Rule of a national governmental body, they are committing TREASON against the Republic! In this case, with a fully enabled war fleet hovering above their intended target, the Trade Federation are most visibly guilty of these debased acts, and as such should be expelled from the Senate membership roster, and temporarily suspended from the Register of Legally Chartered Corporations as well. Consequently, we of Naboo now submit to the Senate the requests for votes on the Measures of Exceptions and the afferent Points of Order necessary to curtail & expel the Trade Federation, as preliminaries to the official investigations being started by our federal policing authorities."
{ SW } - { Queen Amidala's revenge upon Nute Gunray } - { SW }
Sitting back in his chair, supreme chancellor Valorum was in the best spot of the entire senate rotunda to witness the devastating effects the Naboovian response had on the Trade Federation's delegation. To be sure, viceroy Gunray's position had always been piss-poor from the start. He was guilty of everything charged, and his entire defense strategy was to bank on the disbelief of the majority of the senators, plus a large number of people being bribed or intimidated to just follow his lead when the votes came.
Apparently, that would no longer be enough, unlike in passed years. Finis Valorum had seen, from the sidelines, the rather speedy and brutal climb up the corporate ladder that Nute Gunray had managed to effectuate, in barely two decades. The Neimoidian was cunning, had a strong instinct for commerce and financial manipulations, but he always undercut himself by seeking the simplest and shortest route towards his desired objective. And as time passed, it had become apparent to all who knew him that the being had no care for laws, regulations, protocols, or even the most basic morality and good taste, when he wanted to get his hands on something.
He may have started his career as an ordinary businessman, but now Nute Gunray was nothing more than a wannabe mafia boss who had accomplished a fulgurant rise, which he set ablaze by stepping far outside his station in Nature, Life, Society, and the proper decorum of his limited existence. That rather blunt and crude reminder about the difference between Sovereign nations and corporate groups served by master Vorhies would certainly resound in the chambers of the commissions and courts for the coming decade, as this nebulous conspiracy was decorticated and examined, and judgements rendered.
In his role as supreme chancellor, Valorum had the great personal pleasure of needling his colleague, the vice-chair Mas Amedda, out of his fear-induced stupor, and back to working shape. It was a rare treat, seeing the Chagrian male so affected by events on the senate floor, and Finis savored his amusement dearly. It took no less than four tries to finally get the blue-skinned horned humanoid to get the four senatorial secretaries back at pace, and to start putting the Nubian queen's requests for Exceptions and points of order into the voting docket. What a bloody clusterfuck! But the clean-up of the entire senatorial political apparatus, processes and traditions that would ensue would certainly be a good thing for the entire galaxy.
To the surprise of absolutely nobody at this point, the votes passed by tallies of 80% and above of the members supporting the Nubian version of events, and demanding the temporary exclusion of the Trade Federation from both the Senate and the RLCC, thusly crippling them politically and financially as they no longer had the licenses to trade, collect payments or pay the legally mandated taxes, fees and permits, so their continued operations would add tax fraud charges if they didn't close down inside of the next ten business days. While it would incommodate several million workers for a few months, the long-term cleansing of the corporative environment would be a salvation for every member nation or group, and their neighbors outside the Republic.
After reading aloud the vote results and pronouncing the official sanctions of the chancelry upon the visibly deflated and aggrieved Nute Gunray, and his now useless and jobless senator Lott Dod, chancellor Valorum asked the question that would light-up the Senate rotunda on fire for weeks. "Majesty, queen Amidala of the Naboo! You have heard the decision of the Senate. What is your response to this august body of laws and justice?"
The teenaged queen stood from her chair, resplendent in her heavily crafted hairpiece and thick royal robes, but she had a toothy smile that would be better situated on the face of a hungry space squid that just found a fully loaded Corellian spice-runner in its asteroid crevice. Sighing internally, Valorum wondered what calamity he had just unleashed upon the unsuspecting galaxy.
Maintaining a calm and polite tone of voice, queen Amidala began simply "We thank the members of the Senate in its entirety for their forbearance and help in this time of great unrest. We especially extend our gratitude and recognition to the sovereign nations, as we hope they themselves are never faced with such spurious and crass challenges to their sacred borders and traditions, unlike we of Naboo who must still endure until the end of the judicial process."
The young queen let a few seconds pass for the grumblings and whispers to pass, as she had just reminded the entire galaxy that, despite the votes to remove the TF from the Senate, they were still armed to the teeth, and still orbiting her home world unbidden. If Nute Gunray decided to just give up on civility altogether and keep on pressuring her planet for surrender, he may well obtain the perdition of the Nubian people, regardless of legal or diplomatic consequences. As the members began to realize that their acts were just the first step of a very looong process that would monopolize them for months & years, the adolescent monarch raised her voice anew.
"While this morning's proceeding has indeed helped our world, it is simply the reestablishment of the basic legal order of our Republic. It is not yet true justice for the countless lives lost or broken, and the multitudes of depravities inflicted upon us by Nute Gunray, his corporation, workers, contractors and mercenaries of all ilks. Also, the stockholders of the Trade Federation knew of these crimes, yet said nothing as long as their dividends kept arriving every month. The same can be said for the banks that have leant commercial mortgages to the TF to finance these massive battleships and their terrifying weapons. That is why we must now take a more personal and direct approach to counter the foul velleities of Power that motivate Nute Gunray and his corporate group's participants."
Waving vaguely towards the three lawyers at the back of the pod, the fourteen-year-old queen declared venomously "In a blatant attempt to steal the public treasury of Naboo, the TF put through the Republic's banking apparatus a series of fake documents that made it look like we were reneging on contracts and debts owed to the Trade Federation, thusly incurring monetary penalties. To cripple our world's government so we would be unable to mount a military force to repel their invasion, the TF leadership had their co-conspirators inside the Banking Clans of Muunilinst lock-down the royal treasury in escrow, until either the courts or senate arbitrated who was in the right. Today, we shall return viceroy Gunray's unkindness a thousand fold!"
Exhaling a deep breath to help control her rage, Amidala let drop the verbal bomb on the assembly; "We have begun putting through the Republic Courts clerks a series of preliminary law suits against the Trade Federation corporate group, its internal divisions and external chartered divisions, independent partners and associated entities, namely their suppliers and contractors. Alongside this initial process, we have begun tabulating the massive amounts of personal responsibilities and liabilities that each stockholder, the viceroy, the senator, the governors, the branch directors, the service managers, the field officers, and all the way down to the soldiers or mercenaries that set foot inside legally mapped Nubian sovereign space. And we have begun to lodge at the Republic's central judicial bureau the demands to establish judicial mortgages (called 'liens') against their businesses, familial & personal holdings, including to lock them into escrow in foresight of the fact they will most assuredly be obliged to sell-off a great deal to pay the fines, damages, interests, and multivaried court fees and senate costs for the investigations."
Smiling toothily like a gundark that just swallowed a plump Jedi initiate and enjoyed it very much, the young queen declared poisonously "Let this be a lesson to all the companies and crime groups of the galaxy! The pen is always mightier than the sword, especially when that pen is scripting orders to your lenders to cut-off your cash flow from the sources! From now until the end of the investigation, not only will the TF be forbidden from processing any monetary or financial transaction, be they normal upkeep payments or collecting due debts, they will also be utterly penniless and unable to change that! And each and every one of the immoral knaves will be on the hook for a portion of the total court fines, plus the medical fees and reconstruction costs to repair our society! They wanted to use and abuse money as their Right to Be Above every other sentient or sovereign nation! Well then, let money be the tool of their punishment and humbling!"
As the entire senate rose to its feet to applaud the daring and terrifying young monarch for her decisive victory, Sheev Palpatine joined his hands over his heart in silent meditation. Normally, according to his plan, all this applause would have been for his nomination as supreme chancellor. This thunder of cheers and stomping limbs would have heralded the first step of democracy over the edge of an invisible precipice of his own creation.
And yet…
Today, the applause was signalling to the entire galaxy that democracy, law & order, morality, and societal justice, were alive and thriving in the Republic.
This turn of events would demand some lengthy and discerning deliberations, before he made another major move to bring his plans back into the realms of the possible. Current political and legal maneuverings simply didn't leave him any leeway to move without causing an incident that would lead to his discovery.
Movement from the wall of the rotunda attracted his attention, and he couldn't help a nasty smirk as he saw two pods full of blue-armored Senatorial Guards coming towards the Trade Federation's publicly shamed and disavowed delegates. In minutes Nute Gunray and Lott Dod were cuffed, along their lesser compatriots, and headed for the cells in the basement of the massive building. They would be transferred to the actual Republic Security detention center at the fall of evening darkness, as was custom for such cases, rare though they were in this day and age.
Antiquated Jedi rites and Yoda's futile protestations
(Star Wars – Jedi Temple theme)
Ruusan 968 (Anakin 9 years old)
Light-Side Jedi Temple
Coruscant geopolis
While the Galactic Senate were beginning a long and arduous morning of dealing with the Naboo Crisis and the Trade Federation's perfidies, another type of trial was being undertaken, in the giant underground amphitheater of the Light-Side Jedi temple. This procedure was done under the auspices of antique laws and traditions that had ceased to be practiced almost seven centuries ago, when master Yoda took over as Grand-Master of the Order and assumed the leadership of the High Council, putting him also in charge of multiple other organizations that rarely shared the pedestal with the temple's famous inhabitants. As it was, these organizations had been asked to send governance-level representatives to witness the reprisal of the antiquated rites, if only for a brief month, while the actual mental health of master Yoda was ascertained, then also his future career amongst the cult and Order of the Light-Side Jedi.
Arrayed around the massive 15,000 seat stadium's topmost floors were a series of permanent two-tiered loges that were dedicated to each of the organizations created by, governed by, or associated closely to the Light-Side temple over the many millennia since it was built. In the past, these loges allowed the diverse governors and managers to obey their requirement to witness elaborate ceremonials, like the masterant caste's promotion rituals or the opulent elevation of a new member to the high council, while still getting emergency calls or conducting in-person diplomatic business that couldn't wait. In fact, for a non-Jedi or foreigner to be accepted into these loges had long been seen as an apanage of Power and improved status amongst the diplomatic elites of the Republic Senate, especially for those who were simple elected sectorial senators or accorded a 'curtesy seat'. For sovereign heads of state, this was a relatively banal invitation as the Jedi cult of Coruscant had always invited the leaders of the worlds from where hailed those candidates being promoted to mastery or council seats, as a form of polite thanks for having given birth to such a phenomenal exemplar of Jedi faith and sensitivity in the Force.
Today though, there were no invited guests to be honored by witnessing anything, as the Jedi cult leadership were not in any kind of mood to celebrate what would be happening. Only the leaders of the Jedi-dependant organizations had been convoked by priority message yesterday evening. Only cult members aged 10 years and older, the minimal legal age for entry of humans into the much-desired padawanat caste, thusly a hint at a certain basic mental stability, would be permitted into the vast colosseum to witness the deplorable acts of Low Justice the high council had commanded to happen for the first time in 700 years.
As a first step towards having more honesty inside the cult, grand-master du-jure Plo Koon had ordered that an unredacted version of the council session be shown to the entire population of the temple, so they could see with their own eyes the blatant malfeasance of Qui-Gon Jinn, and the mindless support of Yoda for the delinquent whilst trying to blame the innocents for the debacle. At the end of the film, a segment edited by master Jocasta Nu explained what the sentence rendered by the council entailed, how it would be carried out, and what the social consequences would be for Jinn and Yoda on their careers. Master Koon had hoped that having everybody view this and then have the night to sleep on it to calm down would keep tempers from flaring too badly during the rites today.
That was without counting upon the loyalty of the Yoda zealots, along those perfidious criminals that he sheltered in exchange for services to uphold his authority and chokehold over the cult. The High Council had hoped for a somewhat civilized resolution to this debauchery, but they had erred badly.
{ SW } - { Yoda attempts to destabilize the high council } - { SW }
At the appointed time to begin the much-dreaded Ritual of Penance that had existed since the very inception of the Light-Side Jedi cult in the galaxy, an old bronze bell that hadn't been heard for seven centuries began to toll a baleful knell, injuncting the faithful to sit, be quiet and pay attention to the raised scene in the middle of the stadium's sand-floored arena.
From the grand-master's chair in the high council's loge, Plo Koon raised his lit lightsaber, giving the signal for the Council of Reassignment to accomplish their crass task of Low Justice upon the condemned. The head of the team beeped his comm twice, then waited as his four underlings brought out Qui-Gon Jinn, escorted by a further team of six white-armored temple sentinels, in case the man proved uncooperative, or worse, tried to flee from the building. The ten men shoved and dragged the fearful man from the side-gate to the raised durasteel platform in merely five minutes, but the prisoner's attitude and occasional jostling against his guards gave the impression of a far longer processional.
Once marched up to the scene's top, Qui-Gon was made to kneel on the hard metal surface, head bowed in shame as Master of the Order Mace Windu recited the list of charges and corresponding sentences to make sure the entire audience knew the reason they were here, in these events. As the Korun male finished his recitation, a loud noise was heard as the side-gate leading to the goals was banged opened with a resplendently powerful burst of telekinesis, announcing to all the full strength of its wielder.
Beneath the gazes of nearly 9,000 Jedis and associates, titled master Yoda slowly walked to the middle of the arena floor, to stand at the foot of the platform, facing the loges of the four councils. Taking the time to look all around at the gathered Jedis in the bleachers, the green-skinned reptilian let spread his Force aura in a not-subtle-at-all gesture of intimidation to remind them who was the true leader of their sect and temple. Finishing his tour of the stadium's audience, he gazed indolently up at the high council members, green eyes squinted in anger and disappointment. He had hoped for little from them, and even those few demands had been too much for them to produce successfully. All of them had to be replaced soon, he believed, or else his grasp over the temple dwellers would be broken for ever, and the Dark-Side would win over the galaxy at large in his lifetime.
Speaking through his personal comm that was linked to the stadium's public-address systems, Yoda declared tersely "Of the events witnessed, disappointment in the senior masters, I must express. Qui-Gon Jinn, imperfect Jedi has been, truth this is. As human adult, graver and more foul, the imperfections were. But, to barbarity and Dark practices, the right to descend to, these peccadilloes do not give. Pain, shame, and injuries, of the Dark-Side, these antique methods be."
Grand-master Koon rose from his seat, speaking also through the PA system "Titled master Yoda! You were removed from the high council for valid causes, amongst which was your unreasonable tolerance for Jinn's depravities against his padawan-learner, and multiple other sentients. In fact, your actions in regards to Qui-Gon Jinn actually raise to the level of active support in his criminal acts, not simply passive laisser-aller, as many would try to make us believe. We already know all the platitudes and lies you want to pass as evidence that he isn't delinquent, or at least not to the point of needing more correction than a few meditation sessions in the room of a thousand fountains, under your own guidance. As if such meditations had ever made any of the criminals you maintain correct their personalities or attitudes by that utterly meaningless method! Remove yourself from the arena floor, or the high council will suspend you for longer than the initial 30 days, and with more severe restrictions! Speaking of which; you were not to leave your suite unless a medical emergency occurred! Why, exactly, did you believe that this event counted as an exception to the judgement of the council?"
Snorting nastily, Yoda countered "No true judgement of the council, it ever was. Not under my guidance, the process done, nor counted my vote was. An usurper's cowardice, yesterday all beheld, but support not the true Jedi creed, these blind fools did. Dishonored our council, the cowards did. Unworthy of titles and ranks, proven to all, have they done indeed. Removed from the high council, should they be, for then only justice be had in this temple. Orders of cads and fools, the arcana of the temple decries! Lest to your loss you submit, obey them not!"
Master Koon shook his head sideways in an angry movement, shouting back "Oh no, you don't! You were given ample time and opportunities to make your points, yesterday! I offered you a formal challenge and you botched both the response and your chance to remain active amongst the Jedi ranks. That fault is yours alone, Yoda! If you stopped thinking you are above and beyond everything around you, then we wouldn't have to react this way to save the peoples of this faith and institution from your immoral, illegal and tyrannical mess! Leave the arena willingly or by the might of the Light of the Force!"
Snarling in surprised anger at being challenged so publicly after the humiliation of yesterday's council session, Yoda decided to try and place the mongrel boy back in his proper place, with a demonstration of Force power. Lifting his right-hand claws extended, he sprayed a long, wide and sustained arbrissure of blue lightning at the masonry wall of the arena, just under the loges of the councils.
Suddenly taken by a wave of cold, seething wrath, grand-master du-jure Koon joined his hands over his heart, invoking his own deep and reverential connection with their Mother the Force, tapping into a capacity that was particular to his species and that he was particularly skilled with. Remembering the cold, wet winds and fogs of his birth world, the Keldor male opened his arms to let loose a veritable thunderstorm in the stadium, covering half the arena in silvery lightning arcs that fell from the suddenly visible fog bank at the ceiling, the multiple repeated strikes echoing eerily across the cavernous hall, and leaving glassified scorch marks in the sand in testimony to the power contained in each bolt of Force manifested.
Yoda was actually dumbstruck at the power Plo Koon had just shown. He knew that from the current crop of high council members he was in the top three most powerful, in terms of raw Force capacity and control, but he never doubted that this was his true level of mastery and projection. Snarling again in anger, the elderly reptilian had no choice but to back-down from challenging the Keldor, lest he get into a fight he couldn't win without backup, and possibly triggering a civil war inside the temple walls. This was a bad surprise indeed, to see that his opponent had wisely hidden his genuine power for so many years, but it would not avail him in the long run. Yoda had been alive for nearly a millennium, and grand-master for seven centuries, allowing him to learn things about the Jedi cult, the Force, and the many buried secrets of the Coruscanti temple, that Plo Koon and his feckless supporters could not even begin to imagine.
The crowd were astonished by the displays of raw power the two opposing masters had shown, but the sight of old Yoda turning around to walk out of the arena in defeat, head bowed and his entire posture stooped over his gimmer wood stick under the weight of his public shaming made the spectacle even more unbelievable. It took a few minutes for the slow-walking geriatric Jedi to pass the side-gate and let it close behind him, during which the whispers and expressions of dismay from the bleachers rose to create a cacophonic din worse than an open-sky bazaar at midday lunchtime.
Plo Koon wisely let more time pass, giving the peoples a chance to vent and calm themselves without intervention. When it was ten minutes since the departure of Yoda, he raised his lit lightsaber anew, giving the order for the Council of Reassignment to accomplish justice in the name of the Light-Side Jedis.
{ SW } - { A tithe of pain, blood and humility } - { SW }
The selected executioner was a middle-aged human female, normally considered 'Asian' given her sallow skin, black hair and dark black eyes. She was a ranking knight from the Council of Reassignment's command structure who wore a set of dark dirt-brown ceremonial vestments but no head covering as the cult believed that this task was actually a good and necessary duty, so the woman should not feel shame or doubts about carrying out the sentences.
None too gently, the knight made Qui-Gon Jinn move until he was kneeling on a ceremonial varnished wooden block made from the trunk of a single Besh tree that had been harvested when the first foundations of the temple had been built, nearly 25,000 years back. Once situated, a thick leather strap was passed over his lower legs to bind him to the block in proper position, facing towards the council loges so he could see his accusers and judges during his punishment.
The executioner, who had never done this sort of thing in her life before, moved her hands slowly, taking care to not cause an incident. Taking a small curved vibro-blade normally used for skinning animals during trapping or hunting, she carefully cut and removed the drab white linen shirt that was the prisoner's only layer for the day. Once Jinn was bare from the waist up, the knight walked to a rolling caddy to switch tools for a simple everyday electric shaver used by trillions across the galaxy. Using the shaver, she slowly started removing all of Jinn's hair, from the top of his head going down to his beard, and then completely shaving his torso and the few hairs on his back and under his armpits.
The prisoner now utterly bare and exposed to the unrelenting view of all Jedis in the stadium, the woman dropped the shaver back on the wheeled caddy, taking up a powered felt-tipped marker, similar to those used in the classes and workshops of the temple for millennia. She approached Qui-Gon's front, and lit the marker's diagram projector, a clever little system that included miniature data chip & holographic emitter. This was an invention from when the Galactic Republic was young, to help spacers in an emergency download the image of a system's part and project it on a blank bar of raw metal to cut and sculpt a crude temporary replacement until a good piece could be procured. In this case, the holoprojector showed the complex design for an ancient Glyph of Shame that hadn't been seen or used since before Yoda was born. Using the smartly built marker, the woman carefully drew in bright red ink the humiliating brand, six inches wide, right over Qui-Gon's heart, making it stand out sickly over his pallid skin.
After spending fifteen minutes to craft the damned glyph, the female knight straightened up, closed the marker's projector and walked stiffly to the caddy to switch tools again. This would be the most detrimental part of the Rite of Penance, and the one she doubted the most, despite that she had seen the films and read the written reports of Qui-Gon Jinn's perfidies against his padawan and the Jedi cult before accepting this task. Due to basic Jedi training, and the specializations of the council she worked under, she knew violence and had perpetrated it on rare occasions. But this, today, was different from her normal duties, or even the abnormal jobs that popped-up once or twice a year.
Approaching Qui-Gon's prone form from the side, she intoned loudly "For pain given, you shall suffer. For shame given, you shall weep. For betrayal given, you shall bleed. Remorse is given in tithes concordant to the sins, and how they affected the victims. When the victim is your own padawan that you abandon to slavery at the hands of the Zyggerian Empire, then you shall know the submissiveness of the yoke. Know now the weight of your guilt, and the price of sin."
At a gesture from her, two of the brown-robed assistants muscled forth another thick block of varnished Besh wood, positioning it in front of Qui-Gon. Then they grabbed his arms, forcing him to drop forward until he was face down, with his upper chest and clavicles supported on the cold unyielding wood, as they moved his shaking arms to the sides of the block, to attach with thick padded leather straps. Once the assistants moved back to their stand-by positions, the executioner walked around Jinn to ascertain his being well locked-in and stable for the rest of the penance to receive.
Going to the caddy, she bent down to retrieve the next item from the lower shelf. Quickly, she marched to Qui-Gon with the wide, cumbersome piece of metal held in both arms. Standing in front of the shivering man, she proffered the device for him to see; a slave's collar crafted in the same thick style as those favored by the hateful Zyggerians. The visible difference was the color of the material, a dull silver instead of polished bronze, and the crest of the Coruscanti Temple of Jedi engraved on each of the halves and the bolt-head of the hinge. The lock was a needlessly big, primitive affair with a large exaggerated keyhole that could probably be picked with a steak knife. The entire thing was for showing him what it felt to be enslaved, to be bound in the yoke of hopelessness, as he had so scurrilously inflicted upon Obi-Wan Kenobi when he abandoned him mid-mission, at the age of 14, five years ago. The executioner emplaced the collar around his neck, closing the halves with a dull clang, and the frightsome clicking of the lock that beeped to say it was now armed against tampering. Qui-Gon had been warned in advance that no explosives were in the device, but it could administer a nasty shock, if he tried to force it off, and there was a remote trigger to make certain he obeyed with appropriate docility for the rest of his penance.
Sighing in deep disgust both at the prisoner and what she had to do next, the executioner walked to her caddy to fetch the worst instrument of the entire sordid ritual; the inhumane 'graveline' whip. It was a five-strand affair, made of a wooden handle covered with a layer of rubber to insulated the wielder from the energies circulating inside the weapon. The strands were assembled from a mix of traditional elements demanded by their religious texts and modern items because… well it had been decided like that at some point in the far past of the cult. The five strands were short, at three feet long, made of bantha leather strips wrapped with a loosely spaced spiral of steel wire, and small half-inch spheres braided along the length with a full inch between each. To comply with the edicts of multiple cultures, faiths, and possible judicial decrees, these spheres were small bits of gravel ground down to be perfect little pearls of hard, white stone, thusly justifying the barbaric tool's name, as it meant literally "line of gravel". This despicable weapon would obviously whip from the leather, but also 'stone' from the gravel bits, and electrify or burn by the metallic wires according to the setting used for the powered segments, with each strand able to be set differently than the others.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, the female knight laid the graveline's terrifying strands on the prisoner's exposed, shivering back and set the electric components to administer a mild shock at each impact. The goal was to inflict suffering and make him understand what his poor teenaged padawan had suffered during his captivity, not kill or maim him, unlike the damned Zyggerians who wouldn't have cared passed the effort and price of replacing the dead slave. The worse part of Jinn's depravity was that poor Obi-Wan Kenobi had been chosen as learner at age 14, just on the limit before being sent to one of the service organizations that took-in failed initiates & padawans. The boy had seen his trust broken by his master after barely five months under his tutelage! And that green troll of a bastard Yoda wanted him to go unpunished for the rest of his life, even trying to lay the blame on Kenobi himself year after year!
Looking at the pale white skin of the condemned, the woman no longer felt any sympathy or pity, only a deep sense of justice and rightness that echoed in the Force around the platform. She raised the graveline and brought it down ruthlessly, but with careful aim and strength, making sure to apply the punishment adjudicated by the high council, nothing more and nothing less. Once for every grave sin, crime and delinquency, the whip struck down, all five strands lashing, stoning and shocking the depraved traitor, finally getting through his self-absorbed bastardy just how unworthy of being Jedi he had been until today. Now was his last chance to repent and mend his ways, or the council would see him entombed in the dreaded Force-null cells of The Citadel by years' end.
After the damaging ceremonial whipping was done, the executioner gestured at the assistants to untie the spasming man's arms and raise him to a prostrate position so he could breathe freely, and the audience could see his shredded bleeding back clearly. Dropping the bloodied instrument on the caddy, the knight joined with all three assistants in using telekinesis to carefully lift the wooden block an inch above the floor and slowly make it pivot, so that the entire stadium could have an in-your-face look at real law, order, discipline, correction, and punishment that generate real change and moral repentance in a sentient person.
Setting the block down, the executioner signaled the assistants to fully unbind Jinn and help him to stand on his bare feet, given he was swaying despite being partially tied still. Once up, the man needed to use his connection with the Force to have the strength and endurance to stand without being held by the arms on both sides. Looking up to the loges of the four councils and the service organizations, he finally had the appearance of a man that had learned something. His eyes had the dull, empty gaze of a fool who now knew his idiocies and petty delinquencies would no longer be tolerated, and society would make his worse criminal endeavors guaranteed failures, to his everlasting pain and shame.
This was the first time in 700 years that the antiquated Rite of Penance had been carried out inside the temple of the Light-Side Jedi, and it would mark a clear difference between the Yoda doctrine and the purer traditional Light-Siders following Plo Koon, Mace Windu, and the rest of the high council.
