The Force was with them, as a sudden sandstorm swirled on the horizon just as Obi-Wan concluded his business with Watto.
After haggling to an agreed price, he'd initially offered the Toydarian Republic dataries, but Watto had snorted derisively.
"Republic credits are no good out here," thon said. "Only money."
So Obi-Wan haggled again, this time for aurodium. The negotiation began with the conversion of dataries to aurodium and went from there.
Aurodium itself being more valuable than dataries or the local currency, Obi-Wan had little trouble getting a slightly better price. Especially since he would carry the parts himself and didn't need a delivery service.
He'd just bowed his thanks to Watto when the sandstorm warning siren blared. Though he'd never been to Tatooine before, his instincts told him that they needed shelter.
Obi-Wan glanced briefly at Padmé before turning back to Watto to ask, "Where's the closest safe place to sit out the storm?"
"The closest hotel is near the spaceport," Watto said. "You'll have to run to beat the storm."
Then thon cackled. "If they have room. The Boonta Eve Classic is tomorrow. Many come to race, to watch."
"You can stay with us," the boy said. "My mom and me, I mean."
"Boy-" Watto began, but the child looked up at thon with big eyes and a guileless expression.
"It just makes sense," he said. "They stay with us, and you get your money when the storm's over. If they try for the hotel and get lost in the sandstorm…"
"Bah. Fine. But don't think I'm increasing your food allowance!"
BREAK
Obi-Wan had no idea what to expect as he followed the boy through the streets, wind whipping his poncho around him and Padmé stumbling along beside him.
Instinctively, he held out a hand. Her fingers clenched around his, and he used that contact to send a wave of strength through the Force. Her steps steadied.
The boy led them through a warren of narrowing streets lined with small dwellings made of some kind of mud or clay bricks, the walls sturdy and strong to stand against the harsh light and heat of twin suns as well as the wear of wind and sand.
No numbers or other insignia differentiated one door from the next. Obi-Wan supposed if one lived here, one learned one's correct door rather quickly. Following that thought, very few visitors must make their way to this area, or else there would be signs.
Finally, the boy – whose name Obi-Wan still didn't know, somehow – opened one of a hundred identical-appearing doors and rushed inside.
"Mom," he called. "I brought some new friends!"
Padmé started to follow, but Obi-Wan held fast to her hand and gave the slightest pressure in the other direction. She paused, frowning at him, but he only nodded once and, ignoring the sand stinging into his clothes, opened himself to the Force.
Besides the boy, there was one more presence in the house. At the boy's words, a spike of dismay ran through the Force, but was mastered quickly. Interesting.
Obi-Wan released Padmé's hand. She didn't exactly dart inside the building, but she certainly moved with more haste than would normally be considered proper or seemly. He concealed a grin and followed her.
He closed and secured the door behind him to the sound of the boy telling the other person, presumably his mother, about their meeting at Watto's shop and their need for a place to wait out the sandstorm that was only just beginning to hit its stride, so to speak. Sand pelted the walls outside, sounding oddly like a heavy rainstorm, and Obi-Wan offered momentary thanks to the Force that he didn't have to protect Padmé through that.
"Ani." The voice was feminine, heavy but warm, and did nothing to slow the boy's explanation. "Anakin!"
So Anakin was the boy's name. Obi-Wan had heard that name once before, in the vision he'd had that led to his irregular knighting. So he knew the name…but how could the child with a bright Force presence like a supernova be the heart of the darkness he'd seen in his vision?
And what could Obi-Wan do to prevent that horror?
"-this is my mom, Shmi Skywalker."
Obi-Wan came out of his musings in time to hear Padmé say, "I'm Padmé Naberrie. We're so grateful for your hospitality."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi." He bowed to the boy's mother, Shmi, as he introduced himself.
Reflexively, he tucked his hands into the sleeves of his outer robe…only to remember he wasn't wearing his standard robes, but rather a poncho that fell forward, away from his body.
From where he stood just inside the doorway, Anakin Skywalker gasped.
"Is that a lightsaber?" he asked. "Are you a Jedi? What are you doing on Tatooine?"
"Ani." Shmi's stern but gentle rebuke made the boy fall silent. "Don't bombard our guests with questions before dinner. Go clean your hands and help me set the table for two more."
Anakin ran off, and with his identity at least somewhat revealed, Obi-Wan pulled the poncho over his head and folded it neatly before placing it by the door.
"I can help you, Mistress Skywalker," he said, "if you'll tell me where the dishes are kept."
Shmi eyed him warily, but gestured to a cabinet by a small window before turning back to the stove.
Padmé eyed him more curiously than warily, but he only shrugged. Despite learning to meditate about the same time he learned to walk – or perhaps because of that – Obi-Wan found simple, repetitive tasks nearly as useful as meditation for calming himself. This task, however, took only a few moments, even stretching it as he did by making an extra trip to the cabinet for flatware.
The flap-flap of shoes on stone alerted him to Anakin's return, and Obi-Wan looked up in time to see Anakin's mouth drop open.
"A Jedi is setting our table?"
Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at him. "Jedi are servants of the Force."
"I don't think it's meant that way, Master Jedi," Padmé said, her tone light, teasing.
Obi-Wan chuckled. "One of the first things the younglings learn is that service comes in many forms."
His words were punctuated by the roar of sand – lots of sand – skittering across the shelter. Where before he'd thought the storm sounded little different from rain, now he understood that sand was far less forgiving than rain.
"Again, our thanks for your hospitality, Mistress Skywalker," he told her. She barely glanced back from where she stood at the stove.
"Are you a Jedi, too?" Anakin asked.
Padmé shook her head. "I'm not sensitive to the Force. Not like that, anyway."
Anakin's face scrunched in confusion as he took a seat at the table. "What do you mean?"
"The Force is an energy field," Obi-Wan said. "It's created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us, binding the galaxy together."
Shmi finally turned from the stove, a bowl in each hand. From their size, Obi-Wan guessed they held individual servings of whatever she'd cooked.
He offered to take the bowls, and she surrendered them. A glance inside told him they held some kind of stew. He placed one in front of Padmé and the other in front of Anakin before turning to accept two more bowls from Shmi.
Shortly, all four of them were seated with bowls of stew in front of them and a board holding a loaf of fresh bread in the center of the table.
"So the Force surrounds us and pen- penetrates us," Anakin prompted.
"Yes." Obi-Wan paused long enough to take a spoonful of stew, chew, and swallow. "It's very good, Mistress Skywalker."
"Shmi, please," she answered. "And thank you."
Padmé was toying with her stew. Obi-Wan concealed a frown and directed an impression her way, hoping she'd feel it. Eat. It would be rude not to.
She blinked and looked up at him. He took another spoonful of stew, chewed, and swallowed, hoping she'd take the hint.
Then he focused on Anakin, "The Force penetrates us, all of us. Some of us, like Jedi, are more sensitive to its movements and can work with the Force to accomplish many things. Others of us, like Padmé, are not as sensitive. But that doesn't mean the Force doesn't work through them, sometimes."
Padmé blinked at him, her spoon paused halfway to her mouth. "It does?"
"Certainly. If you've ever had anything remarkably unlikely happen, something that you wished for with all your heart despite believing it would never come true? That was very likely the Force."
Padmé's wasn't the only expression that cleared.
"You mean like when I pod race?" Anakin said. "I'm the only human who can do it."
Obi-Wan's eyes hurt with how quickly his brows rose. "The only human? And, forgive me, but what is pod racing?"
He shouldn't have asked.
He got a very long, very excited, description from Anakin, and the longer his description went, the more pinched Shmi's expression became.
Finally, Obi-Wan held up a hand. "I get the idea. It sounds dangerous."
"It is." Shmi rose and began collecting their empty bowls. Obi-Wan started to rise to assist, but she shook her head. "I don't like it, but he is very good at it."
With that last, she smiled at her son before turning back to the tiny kitchen.
BREAK
The storm died down not long after dinner, and then there was a bit of a discussion when it came to sleeping arrangements.
"I can share with Ani," Shmi said. "It won't be the first time. But my bed might be a little cramped for the two of you."
"Padmé can have it," Obi-Wan said.
"But-" she began.
"I can rest anywhere," he said gently. "This won't be the first time I've slept on a floor or the ground. Besides, I probably will spend much of the night in meditation, rather than sleep."
Padmé eyed him dubiously, but eventually disappeared into Shmi's bedroom. He wished the Skywalkers a good night, and went outside into the darkness.
Tatooine nights were as dark as the days were bright, but the Force guided his steps out of the rear of the house to a tiny deck barely big enough to fit two people.
With a check to confirm that he was alone, he pulled out his comm and tapped in Qui-Gon's code.
It was answered almost immediately. "Obi-Wan."
"I've located the parts we need," Obi-Wan reported. "And should complete the transaction tomorrow morning. I expect we'll be back to the ship by midday, or possibly somewhat later. Are you well?"
"Well enough."
Obi-Wan suspected that was all the answer he'd get. "Good."
"Her Highness informed me earlier that the handmaiden accompanying you doesn't have a comm," Qui-Gon said. "Nevertheless, she would like a report."
"Take her yours," Obi-Wan said. "Five minutes."
"May the Force be with you."
"And you, Master." The honorific slipped out without his conscious intention, but Obi-Wan didn't take it back.
He shut off the comm and stepped back inside and made his way to the bedrooms. He knocked softly on Padmé's door.
It opened quickly enough that he knew she hadn't been asleep. She looked up at him, clearly puzzled. "Obi-Wan?"
He offered her his comm. "The queen would like a report."
"Oh. Of course." She smiled as she took the small device. "The Trade Federation took our personal comms, so thank you."
Obi-Wan inclined his head, and the door closed again. He padded into the small sitting area and used the Force to move the sparse furniture toward the walls, leaving a space large enough for him to do some very basic katas.
He tugged off his boots, placed them with the poncho he'd shed earlier, then padded back to the center of the open space, took a breath to center himself, and began the easiest, earliest, kata he'd learned as a child.
The movements came as naturally as breathing, and after the first full set, during which he'd mapped the space he currently had for the exercise, he let his eyes drift closed. He'd always thought the early katas were practiced in sets of eight so as not to overly strain a child's attention span, but he was no child and right now he needed familiar movements so he could let his mind sink into a light meditation.
Anakin Skywalker.
He seen the child in his vision. He'd seen the destruction the Anakin could wreak. He'd felt his own sorrow, his own failure with Anakin, even if he didn't know the exact form that failure would take.
And now, he was here, only a short distance away from the child he'd seen. What was he supposed to do now?
Trust in the Force, of course.
Sometimes, he wished his inner voice weren't quite so sarcastic.
And trust in yourself, your knowledge and mastery of the Force.
He figured that would be the best he'd get without a deeper meditation, which he couldn't indulge in at the moment. So he finished the final repetition of the kata, straightened, and bowed to the Force as he returned to full consciousness and opened his eyes…
…to see Padmé standing in the doorway to her room. She flushed but gave no other sign of discomfort.
"Padmé."
"Obi-Wan." She apparently took that as an invitation, because she crossed to the small settee and sat, patting the cushion next to her in invitation.
Rather than join her on the settee, Obi-Wan chose to sink into a meditation pose on the floor opposite her. What little light the Tatooine night offered slanted through the tiny window, casting her face into stark shadowy relief.
"I didn't mean to intrude. I just came to return your comm." She offered it to him, and he summoned it to his hand to tuck it back into his belt pouch.
"Thank you," he said.
"What…what were you doing? If it's all right to ask, of course."
"The foundational kata for Form I lightsaber training. It's one of the earliest forms we're taught. It's…" he hesitated over the word before finishing, "…comforting in its familiarity."
She titled her head to one side, and he felt her curiosity through the Force. It wouldn't be the first time someone asked him about the forms, and he'd gotten quite good at providing non-answers that still satisfied the asker.
"What troubles you, that you needed comfort?"
That wasn't the question he'd expected, but nevertheless he answered honestly. "The thought of doing something both personally and morally reprehensible."
He felt her shock through the Force, but her voice was steady when she said, "I find it difficult to believe, even to contemplate, a Jedi knight doing something reprehensible."
He chuckled, and if there were a bitter edge to it, she didn't react. "I also find myself contemplating that the lesser of two evils is still evil."
She studied him for a long moment. Finally, she asked, "How can I help?"
Her question surprised him, and he briefly considered deflecting it. Then he realized that perhaps she could help – whether she were the simple attendant she presented to be or, as he suspected, the queen herself.
He blew out a breath, releasing his anxiety to the Force with it. "You know about my vision."
Padmé inhaled sharply, but gave no other outward sign of her thoughts or feelings. "So it was Tatooine. What else did you see?"
"Many things," he answered truthfully. "But the boy, Anakin, was a large part of it."
"Ani? How?"
"I'm not entirely certain," he said. "Visions can be difficult to interpret, and sometimes, because of that uncertainty, in our attempts to avoid them, we bring them about. The only thing I was certain of is that he needs to be freed."
"Why are you so certain about that?" Her question held only curiosity, no censure.
"Because he shines like a star in the Force, and because of that, he will be a target."
"For whom? The Jedi?"
"Force-sensitive children are highly sought after in the slave markets."
"But he's already…" she trailed off, uncertain.
"Watto doesn't know what Anakin is. Not yet. Once he does, he'll either sell him for a ridiculous amount, or he'll use Anakin up himself."
Padmé was quiet a long time before she took a breath and met his gaze. "And what are you contemplating that is so reprehensible?"
"Buying him and his mother."
"What? But-" she broke off, and he could feel her curtailing her shock to think through the situation.
Finally, she said, "You intend to buy them, and then free them."
"Yes, though I don't know what comes after that. Right now, I'm considering how to persuade Watto to sell them both."
"I suppose just taking them isn't possible?"
"It is," Obi-Wan said, "in theory. In practice, most slaves either wear a collar or have a chip implanted somewhere in their bodies that will cause great pain, or worse, if they displease or desert their master."
Padmé's shock reverberated through the Force, and Obi-Wan hastily shielded it. No need for the subject of their conversation to wake at an inopportune moment.
"I-didn't know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Why should you?" Obi-Wan asked, not unkindly. "Naboo has never tolerated slavery."
"No, of course not. But as…I just should have known."
Obi-Wan simply smiled. "Your compassion does you credit."
She smiled back, which he felt more than saw as the light had shifted and most of her face was shadowed.
"Maybe," she ventured. "Maybe we should ask his mother."
"Ask me what?"
Obi-Wan silently cursed his lack of situational awareness, even as he turned to nod a greeting to Shmi Skywalker.
"I'm so sorry," Padmé said. "We didn't mean to disturb you."
Obi-Wan felt Shmi's dismissal through the Force more than saw her wave her hand. "You weren't speaking loudly, but this is my home. I know every sound it should make in the night."
"Still, please accept our apologies," Obi-Wan murmured. "And join us, of course."
Warily, Shmi came to sit next to Padmé, her posture stiff.
"You had something to ask me," she prompted.
"First, you should know the background." Obi-Wan summarized what he'd told Padmé, concluding with, "If our current mission were not exigent, I would remain here and do all I could to free all the slaves, not just you and your son."
Shmi nodded tightly. Then, "Watto will not let us go cheaply."
Obi-Wan reached into his belt pouch and retrieved the aurodium and nova crystals he'd brought. Picking out the payment for the hyperdrive parts, he showed Shmi the rest on his outstretched palm.
"Will this be enough?"
Shmi's eyes widened, glinting in the dim light. "That would be too much."
"I'm prepared to overpay if I must," Obi-Wan said.
"That is too much, even to overpay," Shmi said. "And he will wonder why you want us."
"I wonder that, too," Obi-Wan murmured. He'd have to come up with a good reason.
"I have an idea," Padmé said.