6.
QUI-GON JINN
Qui-Gon turned back around to return to Ani's room. He would have preferred to retire to his own quarters. He could use the respite. Being around Anakin was . . . exhausting. It was occasionally painful and had been particularly such today since he had awakened. Ani broadcast his emotions like a beacon. He had shielded once, instinctively, in a moment where he felt his mind was under threat, but mere strength and talent within the Force was no substitute for knowledge. His shields had been imperfect, and no one had yet told him the necessity of developing smooth and consistent ones around other Force adepts, let alone begun to teach him how to do it.
Ani had other things on his mind. For a good portion of the last rotation, he had not been conscious. Yet, he would have to learn shielding soon, as much for his own protection as for the comfort of everyone in the Temple.
Nevertheless, there was learning in everything. As unpleasant as it could sometimes be, Anakin's unshielded emotions offered more of a window into what he was thinking and experiencing moment to moment than he would like, if he knew. Certainly more than he would choose to reveal. He was trying very hard to be brave. They needed to understand how to help him.
Anakin was grieving, and he was angry that he was grieving. Qui-Gon believed that he may have sensed some symptoms of depression in the boy shortly after his awakening this morning—there had been a withdrawal both in his willingness to interact and in his presence within the Force. Qui-Gon now also believed Ani had a propensity to attachment even beyond what was usual in a child raised outside the Jedi Order and had developed a dependency on Obi-Wan in the voyage from Tatooine to Coruscant. Obi-Wan had been kind to him. Obi-Wan had joked about it with Qui-Gon just now, but his words had called Qui-Gon to account: on their recent journey, Qui-Gon had neglected the boy.
He had assumed Anakin would be well upon their journey. He was safe; there was sustenance available—he had not thought far beyond this. Anakin was physically healthy—quite a capable little person, really—and the longing for his mother would fade. Qui-Gon had turned to matters that had at the time seemed more urgent and spent his time during the voyage in meditation upon the Sith and in counsel with Queen Amidala and Captain Panaka.
Only days into their voyage had he remembered there was more to do for a new search, especially one found from outside the Republic, than there was to do for an apprentice of Anakin's age from the Temple. Well, Obi-Wan had come to him older, and much more self-sufficient. It had been decades since Qui-Gon had dealt closely with a youngling of Anakin's age, and none of the boys he had trained had been anything like Anakin, really.
Of course, Qui-Gon had remembered that there was more to be done for Anakin when he had come across Obi-Wan already doing it. He had been surprised at first, but not displeased to let his apprentice handle the details of this new twist in their adventures. Obi-Wan often handled details in their adventures. When they needed to separate, it was often the way for Qui-Gon to range ahead to scout or battle. Obi-Wan would fall back—to investigate a particular objective, to guard what needed guarding, and to explain matters to bystanders. Qui-Gon had allowed Obi-Wan to take care of the details of caring for Anakin Skywalker. Only just now had Obi-Wan's words revealed to him that he had perhaps been too eager to do this, that perhaps it had been easier for him to focus on the problems of the Naboo than to spend his time in close proximity to such unshielded intensity within the Living Force.
It had been Obi-Wan who had cooked for Ani, arranged his entertainment, ensured that he was clean and warm. Obi-Wan had listened to Anakin and answered questions for him until the sheen of maturity and authority had worn off and Anakin was no longer afraid to ask Obi-Wan all he wanted to know. Anakin had sometimes held back with Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan had begun the consideration of the practicalities of raising and educating Anakin, from medical matters to legal to education and expense. The last day of their voyage, Qui-Gon had seen the extent of all his apprentice had been doing for their new charge. Far beyond any mere handling of the details, Obi-Wan had stepped firmly and confidently into the role of Ani's guardian. Amusingly, he had not seemed to realize what he was doing, but he had acted so swiftly to meet Anakin's need, and so naturally, that his actions had the weight of providence.
Qui-Gon had known that Obi-Wan had great talents in Beast Mastery and diplomacy. He had a gift for calming and taming even the most recalcitrant of creatures. He was far easier with folk than Qui-Gon himself. More measured and careful in his actions as an adult than he had been as a child, Obi-Wan had friends all over the galaxy and in every social strata. He was one of the Order's more promising young diplomats. Qui-Gon had not foreseen, however, how well Obi-Wan's talents would translate into an aptitude for teaching. As Obi-Wan had showed Qui-Gon his ideas for Anakin's future, completely unaware of what he'd done, Qui-Gon had had a sudden glimpse of the Jedi Master that his pupil might become: patient, wise, and protective, joyful in his teachings, yet humble in his approach. Qui-Gon had been concerned to realize that Obi-Wan might have been ready for knighthood for a long time since and he, Qui-Gon, had been holding his pupil back. He had been too focused on his pupil's deficiencies and failed to see where he was more than sufficient.
Later meditation had only further revealed the way his pupil shone in service, in protection of another, the way the Force curled and resonated around the union of Obi-Wan and Anakin's spirits. The very qualities Qui-Gon had often lectured his pupil for became his assets when dealing with Ani. Qui-Gon had urged Obi-Wan to stay more within the present, to dwell less upon an uncertain future. He had told Obi-Wan to pay more attention to his feelings and less to an analysis which often sterilized them. Yet, it was Obi-Wan's ability to detach from his emotions which enabled him to stay just distant enough from Anakin to avoid being overwhelmed by him. It was Obi-Wan's tendency to look to the future which would now serve to counter Ani's impulsivity—as it often had Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon himself did not often have visions of the future—a reason he had always been fascinated by the prophecies—but the possibilities surrounding Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were bright enough that even the Council had seen them.
Obi-Wan would come into his power and his identity in the training of Anakin Skywalker. For his apprentice's sake, Qui-Gon was glad. Yet, in the days since their landing on Coruscant, Qui-Gon had seen that Anakin appeared to need Obi-Wan in a way which concerned him. It was possible Anakin could transcend this flaw through training. It was not unheard of for young padawans and apprentices to be overly dependent upon their masters and caregivers. Obi-Wan himself had trended a bit that way, overly aggressive in his efforts to impress and too sensitive to criticism of his attitudes, decisions, and techniques as criticisms of his person, which had always shone bright and lovely within the Force. Anakin's attachment to Obi-Wan was not surprising; only its intensity was unusual, and that could be circumstantial. But if not, if it was an aspect of Anakin's character, the closeness the training bond between Anakin and Obi-Wan might foster could make matters worse. Qui-Gon was very concerned for Ani now, with Obi-Wan going offworld and into danger.
Qui-Gon rounded the corner and saw Anakin's doorway hanging ajar. He reached out for the healer assigned to Ani's case—but she was still on the other side of the ward. He had suspected before that she too found Ani's presence difficult to bear. She was usually solicitous of her patients, but she had spent no more time in Anakin's room than was strictly necessary for his health.
Not the healer, and he could have sworn he himself had closed Anakin's door when departing the room with Obi-Wan—he had not wanted them to be overheard.
Qui-Gon pushed the door fully open and glanced inside the room, only to have his suspicion confirmed: Anakin was not inside. It was possible he had merely gone down the hallway in the other direction to use the privy. Possible, Qui-Gon acknowledged, but not likely.
He stretched out with his senses, searching for Anakin, and found him, once again behind his clumsy, instinctive shields. What leaked out around them—as well as Ani's actual location, outside the Temple—set Qui-Gon running from the med wing.
But by the time he had reached the docks, it was too late. He could fetch his com from his quarters or use the one in the Council chambers to alert his padawan of Queen Amidala's extra passenger, but he suspected that by the time he got to either location, the queen's ship would jump to hyperspace and be unreachable until their arrival in the Naboo system.
OBI-WAN KENOBI
The voyage from Coruscant to Naboo was much shorter than the voyage from Tatooine to Coruscant, only a third of the flight time. Queen Amidala was anxious to spend as much time as possible planning her actions when they arrived: while being incarcerated or murdered with her citizens would be a fine political statement, if they could bypass the blockade to make the Trade Federation's crimes public to the Senate, the queen was far more interested in freeing her people from the invasion altogether.
Her current idea was to make use of Jar Jar the Useless. Jar Jar could tell her where his people were likeliest to be in this crisis. The Gunguns made up over 70 percent of Naboo's population, and the queen agreed with Obi-Wan that the invasion was by now likely causing them difficulties as well. They would slip past the blockade and land in Gungun sovereign territory. Jar Jar would take them to treat with Boss Nass, and they would ask for an alliance.
Obi-Wan would keep to the fringes, patrolling the perimeter and sensing for signs of their Sith assassin. Naturally, Obi-Wan would try and stop the assassin if he made another attempt on the queen, but he was currently leaning more toward an approach based on investigation and sabotage. He would prefer to avoid engaging the assassin directly, at least alone. Master Qui-Gon had needed to be rescued back on Tatooine. Obi-Wan did not delude himself that he was more powerful than his teacher. If he could spot the assassin before he got too close, physically or through the Force, there was a possibility Obi-Wan could find his camp and equipment. He could learn more about the assassin's mission and his master, his funding, his likely place of origin or planetary base. Bringing back evidence would satisfy Obi-Wan's assignment from the Council for his Trial of Courage, and, as for the assassin, it was difficult to hit a moving target possessed of a starship and speeders when your own had mysteriously stopped functioning—and your supplies either missing or destroyed.
The queen was aware that while Obi-Wan would continue to accompany her as a friend and protector, he had a different mission than assisting in the liberation of her planet. She had given him her thanks, the larger guest quarters aboard her ship which Qui-Gon had occupied on their last trip, and then proceeded to ignore him. They each had their separate objectives.
The problem was Anakin.
Force bonds typically had a distance limit; while sensing someone across a quarter or city was simple, it grew much more difficult across a planet or system, and when they passed outside of a system, the complications of communicating matter across spacetime grew too great to overcome, even within the Force, except at moments of great joy or anguish, and then only the most powerful and practiced of Jedi Masters could tell something had befallen a being whom they knew.
Once they jumped to hyperspace, Obi-Wan should have had no sense of Anakin's presence. It should have been like closing the door between them. Yet, as the first day of space travel turned into the second and they drew nearer and nearer to Naboo, Obi-Wan's sense of Anakin never diminished. He could feel the boy in the back of his mind, and the sense was . . . odd. Obi-Wan might have expected sadness from Anakin, or boredom. Perhaps interest in study materials the creche teachers had brought to the med wing for him to begin on or frustration if he could not understand them. Instead, the clumsy, haphazard shields Anakin had once raised trying to protect their bond from dissolution were up again—and not as though someone, perhaps a master, had taught Anakin to maintain them better out of courtesy to other beings. They still felt like Anakin's raw, unpracticed mimicry of a technique he had only sensed in others, not one which had been explained, and they felt as though Anakin was trying to hide. And spilling out through the cracks—guilt. Determination and excitement.
Obi-Wan's own unease grew, and an hour before they were due to leave hyperspace and run the blockade, he knew he must investigate or he would never be able to commit fully to his mission. There was a chance that he was wrong and Anakin was back in the Temple, feeling differently about the lessons he might be receiving and his stay in the med wing than Obi-Wan had anticipated, and broadcasting more strongly than any Force user Obi-Wan had encountered because he was stronger than any Force user Obi-Wan had encountered, and their bond might be deeper. But if he wasn't . . .
First, Obi-Wan spoke with the handmaidens, both Yané, the girl who had by and large taken responsibility for their ship's cooked meals, and with Padmé herself, "in charge of" the queen's wardrobe. Both of these had noticed things amiss. Yané thought there seemed to be a leak in one of their water casks and thought one of the others might be stress-eating, as small packets of bread and dehydrated fruit had gone missing—nothing they needed, nothing anyone in particular had wanted, only, if they were stranded on the planet's surface in a lengthy resistance against the Trade Federation, their rations might become important, so she had been keeping track. Padmé had noticed a gown and headdress had not made it from the apartments on Coruscant back to the queen's starship; one of the queen's trunks was now half empty. She didn't suspect theft by any of the queen's attendants or visitors during her time on Coruscant but acknowledged they had moved to leave the capital quickly. People always left something behind when traveling, and Queen Amidala had a great many ceremonial gowns and headdresses.
"Is anything wrong, Padawan Kenobi?" Padmé asked.
"I'm not certain," Obi-Wan answered. "I'm trying to find out."
Obi-Wan suspected a dock worker back on Coruscant must have been confused or delighted to discover one of Queen Amidala's sumptuous costumes shoved behind a crate after their departure. He hoped they returned the items to the caretakers in the apartments Queen Amidala usually rented during her visits to Coruscant. More likely, the items would vanish; each of the queen's costumes would be worth a great many credits.
Hiding in one of the trunks would have gotten Anakin onboard; there couldn't be much difference between the weight of a small boy and one of the queen's voluminous dresses and massive headdresses. Afterward, his task would have been more difficult. There had been a great deal of activity within the queen's compartments for the past two days. Unless he had moved quickly to a more private location, Anakin would have been discovered. Padmé and the other handmaidens—the queen's whole entourage, in fact—were fond of the boy, but they would not smuggle him away from the Jedi and down into a war zone. They would have been ignorant of Anakin's presence or intentions. He had to be somewhere else aboard the ship.
Obi-Wan searched the engine room first, the gaps between different mechanical parts of the queen's ship. Then the cargo bay. Both were not usually occupied, and Anakin had spent a great deal of time in the engine room in particular upon their last voyage. Anakin might be able to hide in either location unnoticed for quite some time. But there was no trace of the boy in either place.
Obi-Wan kept himself tightly shielded as he searched. Shielding was second nature for him, of course, a matter of etiquette within the Temple and security outside it. Although Force-blind individuals could not sense a Jedi's aura in the same way as Force adepts, they were aware of an unshielded Jedi's presence, the sense of energy and potential which surrounded those alive and aware within the Force. Sometimes, covert operations depended upon a Jedi's maintenance of his shields. In fact, these days it was more difficult to lower his shields than to maintain them—a bit like walking naked out into a public place. Now, however, Obi-Wan did not want Anakin to sense his feelings. He did not want Anakin alerted to his search.
A large part of him had hoped he was wrong, that somehow, despite the feelings leaking from Anakin within the Force, their immediacy, despite the missing rations and Queen Amidala's half-empty trunk, he would not find Anakin aboard the queen's ship. But when Obi-Wan stepped inside the boot-box quarters he had occupied upon the last voyage, there was a sudden spike of fear inside his mind which did not belong to him. The sense of someone frozen down the hall, every muscle tensed, scarcely daring to breathe.
Of course. Of course Anakin had come here. How many times had he visited Obi-Wan within these quarters on their last trip? Here they were, empty now, and why should Obi-Wan return? There was scarcely room within to stand upon the floor. Anakin had done his best to make the bed from last night, but the comforter was askew.
Obi-Wan wrestled with a completely unexpected hot surge of worry and anger—this definitely from within his own mind. He thrust his hands into his sleeves to grip his wrists and manage the tension.
"Anakin. You can come out of that footlocker."
There was a pause, then the lid of the room's footlocker, held to but not latched closed, opened up. Anakin unfolded and stepped out on the floor.
He had not showered or changed since Coruscant. His apprentice's clothes, given him by the healers, had wrinkled with long hours of hiding. His hair had matted to his head with sweat and dried in interesting configurations. As Obi-Wan looked down at him, Anakin's stomach audibly rumbled.
"Yané noted the rations you took," Obi-Wan remarked. "I wondered if you had found the dried fruit any more palatable—were able to eat it better than you were a few days ago."
"I figured that stuff was nasty enough no one would notice," Anakin muttered, looking down. "Most of it's still in there." He gestured back at the open footlocker. "Are they mad? Are you gonna take me back now?"
"I don't think you understand, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "When we emerge from hyperspace, we will face a hostile Trade Federation blockade. Even if we elude their drones and fighters to land on Naboo, they're looking for us. They will note our entrance into the system. If we escape merely to fly you back to safety, the Trade Federation will tighten security, and Queen Amidala may not be able to enter the system again."
He felt Anakin's brief surge of satisfaction within the Force, and fought another wave of anger, almost verging upon rage. "I thought you might not be able to take me back. If I stayed still long enough. We're almost at Naboo now, right?"
"We are."
Anakin frowned. "Hey—Mister Obi-Wan, you're not mad, are you?"
Obi-Wan concentrated upon his breathing. He concentrated upon the feeling of the deck beneath his feet, the distant scream of the passing stars outside the hyperspace lane, the monotonous hum of the engine.
"Come. Let's get you something closer to a meal you will actually eat," he said, turning on his heel and moving toward the mess.
Mad? He was so far beyond mad that he could hardly begin to process the feeling. He wanted to shake the boy, to shout at him, to make him see and feel the depths of his foolishness, the breadth of his helplessness to face what they faced now. Obi-Wan wanted Anakin scared, sorry, repentant.
He felt more anger at Anakin putting himself at risk this way than he had felt at Bruck Chan's antagonism in his youngling days, at Qui-Gon's obstinacy at any time during his apprenticeship—any other time he had been "mad" in the past at all. It might as well be an entirely different feeling, but for the fact that, as Yoda always said, fear was at its root. Not fear for himself, that others would cast him out or his antagonists were right, but fear for another, for this stupid, stupid scrap of sentience who had charged behind him into a danger he could not begin to comprehend.
"You're mad, aren't you," Anakin insisted, trotting behind him.
"Anakin, please. Don't press me," Obi-Wan told him. "We'll talk after you've had something to eat."
Something in his tone got through to Anakin. The boy's demeanor shifted. The satisfaction he had felt upon the confirmation he could not be returned to Coruscant, the relief he had felt on finally being able to break his silence shrank, became subdued. The guilt, which had diminished, surged forth again to dominate.
Good.
In the common area, Obi-Wan heated some of the flat, unleavened bread Anakin would eat and the tough jerky cuts he enjoyed inside a pan. He seasoned them with a sharp cheese substitute—he had found Anakin was more accepting of new savory flavors than of sweetness—and enough spice to light a wood on fire. Added a couple of dried peppers for good measure; the boy should start eating some vegetables at least. He finished off by filling a large canteen with a double water ration and setting plate and bottle before the boy. "Eat and drink it all," he ordered. "Are you rec—are you better from your surgery?"
Anakin sloshed the water inside the canteen with wide eyes. He looked back at Obi-Wan, who raised his eyebrows. Anakin loaded a piece of bread with meat and peppers and began to eat, meekly. Between bites he answered. "My back started hurting yesterday, where they took out the detonator. The bacta patch really started to itch, too, so I took it off. But I'm fine, really. I've had worse after a day of podracing." He picked out one of the half-eaten peppers from his meal and examined it. "Hey, these things are kinda good!" he remarked, popping the rest into his mouth. "Thanks, Mister Obi-Wan!"
"You're welcome. We should take you to the infirmary. Make sure you did not remove your bacta patch premat—that you did not take it off too soon. The healing wound could become infected."
"Nu-uh," Anakin said firmly. "I've had it with med wings and shots! Besides, we can't have a lot of time. Hey, do you think I can see Artoo and Padmé now? After I finish," he added quickly, lifting up the rest of his meal like a peace offering.
"Oh, if we don't have time to go to the infirmary before we run the Federation blockade, I doubt you'll have the time to chat with your friends," Obi-Wan said, unable to hold back his sarcasm this time. "Anakin, why couldn't you have simply stayed where you were asked?"
"It's boring in that med wing!" Anakin protested, becoming angry himself now in his desire to justify his actions. "That healer hated coming to the room they gave me. She only ever stayed long enough to do stuff that hurt. Then she practically ran away, like I really did have all those viruses and stuff they talked about, except I don't!" Anakin had never understood the need for quarantine, how illnesses that he might have adapted to resist on Tatooine and did not affect him could put others on other worlds at risk, and his frustration burst out now. "I'm never sick, so I can't have made anybody else sick ever either, can I?! And Mister Qui-Gon only visited 'cause he felt bad, 'cause he brought me there and 'cause you weren't there.
"You guys all wanted me to stay there while you and Padmé flew out here into trouble. You've got this blockade or whatever, all the Trade Federation drones and fighters and that guy who almost ran me over too. I didn't know what was gonna happen! But I wasn't gonna just sit there when I can help!"
"And you were so confident in the help you could provide that you felt impelled to stow away," Obi-Wan retorted. "Nine years old, weaponless, untrained to use a weapon even if you had one, you determined the warfront simply could not do without you, and you would be invaluable even half-starved and fighting off an infection from an improperly healed surgery site."
"I can handle myself!" Anakin snapped, turning red. He shoved the remnants of his meal aside, then threw it to the deck. "You never want me!" he exploded. "No one wants me! My mom didn't even want me! All I ever do is help you guys, and you just—you don't—" His lip started trembling, but he clamped it down. His fists clenched and he looked down at the table, fuming.
Anakin's hurt, rage, and terror lashed and roiled within the Force, but this time, Obi-Wan felt it as if from a distance. "You make a marvelous case for yourself," he said coldly. "Throwing tantrums like a youngling of four, wasting limited rations that weren't planned for your presence in the first place."
"I'm not hungry!" Anakin yelled. "I didn't want your dumb food anyway!" A patent lie. Even as he shouted, Obi-Wan felt Anakin was still hungry. Too bad. The meal Obi-Wan had made him lay scattered across the deck. There was no time to cook another. He would have to make do with a hard-tack ration instead of something hot.
"I appreciate the courage and ability that you showed back on your home planet in the Boonta Eve Classic, Anakin," he said. "I appreciate the friendship you have shown for me, and I return it. But your help on this mission will not be help at all. We are flying into war. Our company is all well capable of defending themselves. Even Queen Amidala, I hear, is an accomplished markswoman. But obliged to defend your life as well as hers, we may become vulnerable. Aside from that, you are on probation. The Jedi have not determined to train you as one of us. You are older than any apprentice they have accepted for centuries, and some of the most powerful and influential masters on the Council have grave doubts about your suitability. By running away from the place they put you to follow me, you will only confirm them."
"They don't want me, either!" Anakin cried. "They're just giving me the chance because of you, and 'cause Qui-Gon messed up, but they can't put me back. They would if they could! You would!"
"Anakin, I will never take you back to slavery," Obi-Wan said.
"But you want to," Anakin accused. "You think it would be easier if Master Qui-Gon had never found me! You wish he never had!"
Obi-Wan exploded his shields out at Anakin, letting him see instead of guess all his resentment, all the stress and pressure he had felt since his master had brought this boy aboard. The worry, the weariness, the annoyance. What it was like to feel Ani as a more or less constant headache, literally, the invasion of having a bond he had neither wanted nor agreed to forced upon him. He had not planned on Anakin. He had not wanted him. Within less than fourteen standard rotations, everything had changed because of Anakin, and the path ahead for Obi-Wan looked infinitely more difficult and painful than he had ever anticipated with more potential for darkness than he had dreamed. He saw it in Anakin now: the injuries that had warped into a near-bottomless pit of fear and need, his rebellion, his anger, how easily it might one day warp to hate. He saw the clouds Master Yoda had sensed hanging over the boy's future, how all the Jedi training they could give could only serve to make Anakin more dangerous, how all that power could one day be misused.
And how never, for a second, had he once wished his master had left Anakin behind on Tatooine or that the boy had never come into his life. The possibilities he sensed could unfurl for good because of Anakin, within Anakin and within himself. A near-limitless potential to soothe and cure the galaxy's ills offsetting that darkness within the boy. All of the Light he saw as well.
Showing it to Anakin was an act of violence, undertaken within his anger. Obi-Wan did not intend it to calm Anakin, to comfort or reassure him. He meant to hurt him. Anakin flinched back. He turned white beneath his tan. His eyes locked on Obi-Wan's, wide and terrified. He began to shake.
Obi-Wan felt it: Anakin had not known how much discomfort his emotions could cause to those awake to the Force around him. He had not before understood that the presence of someone else's mind in your own could be an intrusion, because to Anakin, the minds and emotions of everyone around him were available all the time. Like sands in the Tatooine desert, they blew around him, coating him and digging into him. Anakin was never sure where those around him stopped and he began. Now, through Obi-Wan, for the first time he felt what it was to be separate and to have his privacy ripped away without permission, and to Anakin, it felt like the slave dwellings, none of which had locks, and he was the master, walking in where he was not wanted.
I didn't mean . . . I didn't want . . . I never want . . .
For the first time, Anakin realized the depth of danger Obi-Wan had been alluding to when warning him about the way he had sent his power, realized how close he had come to hurting or killing his friend with his inexperience. Obi-Wan felt Anakin's mind flood with horror and remorse, and his own heart filled with regret.
"I'm not, I didn't . . ." Anakin's voice faded out into a whisper, his words no more developed than the feeling in his mind.
That was when Padmé Naberrie entered the room, still in her handmaiden's guise. She would not remove it until the fighting ended and she was safe again. She took in the room at a glance and swept over to their table.
She glared at Obi-Wan. "That is enough," she said. "The pilot is moving to drop us out of hyperspace. He must concentrate, and your arguing is loud enough to echo through the entire ship. Anakin, pick up your plate. Obi-Wan Kenobi, you may dispose of the mess and move to the cockpit. Master Nodric may require your advice. Anakin and I shall strap ourselves into the seats right here for the flight down past the blockade."
Obi-Wan looked down at the fourteen-year-old child dressed as a servant girl. She was small, even for her age, yet she radiated confidence and authority. Anakin scrambled to pick up his plate. He handed it to Obi-Wan, eyes down.
"Sorry," he muttered, and Obi-Wan wasn't sure who he was speaking to. He decided he had best go for the broom.
PADMÉ
Padawan Kenobi left for the cockpit as requested, and Padmé was left alone with her small friend from Tatooine. She had suspected when Yané had told her about Padawan Kenobi's questions about the rations that it was Ani who had come in inside the other half of the trunk where Rabé had found one of her gowns missing. It might have been a drone or spy droid, or a hostile from one of the smaller species, but somehow, she had known it wasn't.
She stared down at Ani—at his beautiful blue eyes, the sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks, his blond hair stuck up into spikes with who knew what—and had to fight an urge to weep. She had not wanted him to come. Bad enough to think of all the children imprisoned on her home world, frightened, maybe starving or dying, without bringing another down into it. She tried to comb his hair into some kind of order with her fingers.
"Obi-Wan is right, you know," she told him. "You should not have come."
Obi-Wan Kenobi had been harsh with Ani, yet, in the manner of children, when Anakin grew defensive, he had been quick enough with hurtful words for the padawan. Obi-Wan Kenobi was not a particularly warm person, yet Anakin had accused him of such terrible things. Wishing Anakin had been left to slavery? It was nonsense.
"I wanted to help you," Anakin said.
"And we just wanted you to be safe."
"I didn't know I was gonna make things worse," Anakin said. "I thought I could do something, like in the podrace, or with Obi-Wan before the Council told him he had to come here. But I—I hurt him, Padmé. I didn't know that I hurt him, hurt all the Jedi! I knew I'd been a little trouble, but I didn't know how bad it was. I—maybe Master Qui-Gon should've left me on Tatooine. Maybe they should send me back."
"You know Obi-Wan doesn't want that. None of them do." Padmé felt the jolt as the ship dropped out of hyperspace. She pushed down her fear, her need to know where the ship was within space, how close their enemies were, if they would make it. This was the center of the ship, the most secure place she could be. From here, if need be, they could head toward any one of the ship's four escape pods. In the event of an emergency, this area, far from the engines or shield matrices, would be one of the last to be targeted or lose power.
She envied Anakin Skywalker. He knew nothing of the great danger they were in. He was still preoccupied with his quarrel with Padawan Kenobi. "I know Obi-Wan doesn't want me to go back," he said. His voice was small. "Saying that was stupid. He's good, Padmé. Like Mom. Like you. Padmé, I think—I think I messed up."
"We all make mistakes sometimes."
A clichéd response, but a true one. It was all Padmé could manage for Ani now.
"No, not coming here," Anakin persisted. "Though, maybe I shouldn't of done that either. I mean, with the Force, the stuff I can do that the Jedi say is the Force. It's why they're gonna train me, even though I'm older than their usual apprentices and don't know all the stuff that I'm supposed to. I think I've messed it up, especially with Obi-Wan. There's this—I don't know." Anakin's face creased with distress. He looked ready to cry. "He showed me. I've hurt him. More than any of the rest of 'em." He waved his hand in a gesture Padmé supposed was meant to include all the Jedi he had referred to before. "And sometimes, I was just trying to help. Or get to him, you know?" Padmé didn't know. She didn't have the faintest idea of what Ani meant. But she understood that he was sad and scared, that Anakin had powers she didn't understand and that he didn't understand yet. She understood he was sorry that he had come but also that he had only come out of love. She reached out and took his hand.
"Obi-Wan should hate me," Ani murmured. "I would hate me."
"I don't think Jedi hate people," Padmé said.
Anakin looked down at their joined hands. "I don't hurt you, do I?" he asked. "I don't want to hurt you, Padmé, not ever!"
"I'm worried about you, Ani," Padmé told him. "I'm sad that you are here. I'm frightened we may not be able to protect you from danger. I know you will see things once we land upon my home world that we cannot protect you from. That is a kind of hurt."
"Yeah," Anakin admitted, "but don't you see? I was feeling like that back there in that dumb old med wing in the Temple on Coruscant. I didn't want you guys to come here without me. We're friends. Friends help, even if somebody tells them not to. Isn't that what your queen is doing? The Senate didn't want her to come back, right? But she had to help your guys' people. You 'n' Obi-Wan seem to think it's real bad that I'm here when I'm just nine, but the queen's not that much older than I am, the way I see it. And she can't use the Force or anything!"
Padmé looked down at Ani. The ship spun around them and made a sharp turn. Her stomach swooped, and she closed her eyes a moment. "You don't need the Force to be brave or do the right thing."
"No, but that's what I mean!" Anakin agreed, pulling her hand in emphasis. "Look, I didn't even know I had the Force until Mister Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan isn't as strong in the Force as me; that's why I hurt him so bad. That, and 'cause I'm not much good yet. But Obi-Wan knows a lot of things I don't. You and the queen and Artoo and all you guys don't have the Force, but you're fighting anyway. I think that's amazing. That's why I like you guys. Especially you."
"Especially me, huh?" Padmé smiled, distracted for a moment from thoughts of making it to the surface and what they would do if they arrived there.
"Well, I don't know if you're that much better than the others, really," Ani admitted, attempting to be fair. "But I know you best."
Padmé's smile widened. She dared suppose it could be true. It had been some time since she had had a friend to truly be herself with. To everyone else, she was Queen Amidala, or else a servant. Whether they looked to see the leader of the Naboo, the youngest elected monarch within decades, whose inexperience had led to tragedy, or a girl in uniform behind her, they were not seeing Padmé. Even the closest of her handmaidens—dear, dear Sabé—saw the position she had run for before the person she had been and still was inside. Ani had not known her for a servant when they met. He did not know now she was a queen. He did not think a servant lowly, for he had been a slave, and a slave never had true respect for any queen. But to Anakin, she was simply a girl. He had seen her and thought her beautiful.
"You know me," she repeated. "Are you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure," Ani answered. "I know you here and here—" pointing at his head and heart.
"Your Majesty, we are being hailed," a voice said over the speaker.
Padmé unbuckled her harness and stood. "I must go," she said. "The queen will be headed to the cockpit. She may require my advice."
