by Jude Watson
The droid appears a few minutes later. I check its readout. One Jedi was spotted in Mos Espa. The coordinates indicate that he is heading out of the spaceport. He is most likely returning to his ship.
Jedi, I hope you are complacent right now. I hope you think you are safe for the moment. I know your arrogance tells you that you are a match for whoever is looking for you. Your surprise will add to my pleasure when I destroy you.
Technology pleases me. I personally retrofitted my speeder bike with an advanced ignition system. It is agile and fast. The Jedi don’t have a chance of outrunning me.
I speed over the desert floor. The heat slams down on me, and I’m glad. It will slow the Jedi. I bend over, eyes focused on the landscape ahead, searching for the movement that will show me my enemy. All I see is sand and dirt and dunes. Yellow ground, blue sky.
The background of the battle will be almost as crucial as the battle itself. The sand will make my footing difficult. But I must turn every obstacle into an advantage. I will use the softness of the ground to weaken the Jedi, make them clumsy. I am never clumsy.
A puff of sand alerts me. I see a spot on the horizon. As I speed closer, the spot separates in two. To my surprise, it is a man and a small boy. For a moment, I am confused. Is this my prey?
Then I watch how the grown man moves, and I know the figure in the distance is indeed a Jedi. But what is he doing with that boy?
The boy… there is something about the boy. I sense ripples in the Force around him. Yet it is unfocused, uncontrolled. Why is he with the Jedi?
Motivations are uninteresting. Results are what matter. I have one Jedi in my sights. This Jedi will lead me to the other. Even dead, he will lead me, for the other will return to find him, and I will be waiting.
I gain on them. My engine is almost silent. I could knock the Jedi down and start from there. Or would it be more satisfying to leap from the bike and engage him directly?
I want to see his eyes.
The Jedi picks up his pace. The boy lags behind. He is in the way, so I plan to smash into him.
I am almost on them when the Jedi turns and sees me. He shouts something to the boy, and without looking or hesitating one moment, the boy falls flat on the ground. How peculiar, I note as I zoom over his prostrate form. Most boys would have hesitated or turned. His instincts are sharp for one so young. Perhaps the Force is more focused than I thought.
As soon as I am past, I dismiss the boy contemptuously. He is nothing. The Jedi is my prey.
Yes, Jedi. See where your overblown reputation will leave you. Dead at my feet.
In one perfect movement I cut the engine and leap off the speeder, my lightsaber activated and in my hand. The Jedi meets my first blow, blocking it. He has expected my flying maneuver.
If an opponent can read you, the fight is over. I don’t like that the Jedi was perfectly prepared for my first blow. Within seconds, I throw away my usual combinations and strategies. This Jedi seems to know how I will move before I do.
But he cannot match my strength. I sense this. And I feel his surprise at this. Yet he does not let his puzzlement slow him down. I tell myself that this man has never met an enemy like me before, and it frightens him.
Your fear is justified. Prepare to die.
I accelerate my pace, calling on my anger to increase my power. My footwork has never been so brilliant. I use the shifting sand as resistance. My lightness and quickness will defeat this man, with his large body, his heavy movements.
But he is graceful, this Jedi. The sand doesn’t seem to hamper him. He is never off balance, no matter where or how I strike.
Our blows send shudders through my body. He meets my strength. Our lightsabers clash and sizzle. Dust and sand rise around us. I never lose my rhythm.
The Jedi calls to the boy, tells him to go back to the ship. The cowardly boy runs off. After I defeat my enemy, I will find the second Jedi.
But I must confess that this Jedi is a challenge. If I leap, he is with me. If I turn, he follows me. He meets my ferocity with his own. His lightsaber swirls and hums, and several times comes closer than I like.
It is because of my wound. It has slowed me down somewhat. It is almost imperceptible, but it is there. The Jedi has an advantage. I am not at my best.
This realization sends more rage pumping into my body. I am angry at myself, but I use the anger to fuel the dark side. I feel the Force come from the Jedi and I send it back to him, showing him that I, too, have a connection, and it is stronger than his. I launch a furious counterattack. I feel the Jedi beginning to tire, and triumph rises like a red mist before my eyes. I gain the advantage. I am winning. I will defeat him.
I have been surprised at his skill, but now I am confident of victory. I will savor each moment of this battle.
Even through his fatigue, his blows still have power. He is a large man with impressive strength. He will fall heavily, like a monument.
I feel a savage pleasure course through me. His weakness feeds my power. I drive him back, spin around when he parries, drive him back again. The dust chokes my throat, but I don’t notice it.
Suddenly, the ship is here. And in the blink of an eye, I lose sight of the Jedi. Does he disappear in the dust? Flip past me? I am still not sure.
Had I maneuvered him where I wanted him?
Or had he maneuvered me?
I see him make a gigantic leap and land on the ramp of the ship.
No! I am after him, but I am too late.
I stand and watch the ship as it rises. Soon it is just a speck in the distance.
I taste sand in my mouth. The Jedi is gone.
I stand in the same spot for a long time. The wind rises. It drives the sand against me furiously, sharp pricks against my face and exposed skin. I feel something trickle into my mouth: blood. Still I stand and let the wind whip the sand in a maelstrom around me and against me.
The blood in my mouth stings, tasting of humiliation. Shame. I have not felt shame like this before. It is a darkness darker than any I have known. But it is not a pleasing darkness.
I have failed. Now I must tell my Master.
There is no reason to remain on Tatooine, I know what I must do. I must return to Coruscant and face Lord Sidious. I send a report that the Jedi have taken off with the Queen, and I am returning. I know my Master will want to hear the details in person.
I am prepared to do this, but I do not look forward to it. I have brought him bad news once before. My successes have been spectacular, but on one mission, I had to report failure.
It was in the early days when Lord Sidious was secretly working to consolidate the strength of the Trade Federation. My mission was to go to the planet Chryya and ensure that their thriving spice business would be turned over to the Trade Federation to manage. I would accomplish this through threats and intimidation. I would not reveal my Sith powers unless I left my opponent dead.
At first, I was successful. A few incidents convinced the frightened merchants to sign all the agreements. But then one merchant organized a protest. Before I could move against him, a groundswell grew among the people. Every citizen of Chryya destroyed their spice supplies rather than give in to the Trade Federation. They wrecked their economy for principle.
I had not forseen this. In my experience, creatures are guided by their own comforts. I could not kill the entire population, so I had to leave and report my failure to my Master.
He did not take it well. He raised a hand, and the dark side grabbed me by the throat and lifted me high. My breath was squeezed out of me slowly. Too slowly. I had time to feel every stretched-out moment of panic as I struggled to force even the tiniest trickle of air into my lungs.
When I was close to passing out, I was dropped to the floor in a heap. My Master walked away. He did not address me or call for me for some time. The removal of his favor was worse than the punishment.
So on the journey back, I consider how much of my story to tell. I question whether it is necessary to
tell him of my battle with the pirates, or my encounter with the Sand People. If I do, I will have to confess that I sustained a leg wound. I do not want to show weakness in front of my Master. And my leg is almost healed. There is no reason to tell him.
He will blame me for allowing myself to get caught in the pirate’s snare. He won’t listen if I try to tell him it was impossible to avoid them. He will cut me off.
I don’t want excuses. Only results.
Sometimes explanations are not excuses, yet they sound that way. And sometimes stories are better left untold.
I do not like concealing something from my Master. I’ve never done it before. But I tell myself that any questioning of me would only distract him. We must focus on the next step.
I arrive at Coruscant at night. When I come out of hyperspace, the light of the planet dazzles my eyes like an impossibly bright star. At night it glows from the millions of lights that bounce off the atmosphere. Some say it is the most beautiful sight in the galaxy.
I do not know, or care, about beauty. Apprehension fizzes in my blood. There is nothing in the galaxy to compare to my Master when he is displeased.
I dock my ship in the landing bay. The entrance panel slides closed. To outsiders it looks like a sheer wall. I complete my arrival checks. When I realize that I am delaying, I wrench my mind into the proper form for a Sith Lord. We do not delay. We do not feel dread.
I head straight for my Master. He sits in the middle of an empty room, the place where he plans and meditates. There is nothing in the room to distract him. Even the door slides closed and becomes invisible.
I relate what happened. How I raced to find the Jedi, how I was close to defeating him, how he leaped onto the ramp of the ship.
My Master is wearing his hood, so I cannot see his eyes. I rely on his mouth and skin tone to tell me if he’s angry, but I see no change.
“You feel you would have defeated this Jedi?” he asks.
“Yes, Master. I felt him tire. I can defeat him.”
“Was he bearded?”
I nod.
“Good. That is Qui-Gon Jinn. He is the stronger of the two.”
My Master seems satisfied. This puzzles me. Surely he is furious at me for allowing the Jedi to escape.
I venture my guess that the Jedi and the Queen will come to Coruscant. What else can she do? She is young and looks to authority. She will be naive enough to think that the Senate can help her. I am pleased with my deduction, but it does not seem to interest my Master.
He waves his hand and tells me that she is already here.
She is close by, staying in the Senatorial quarters.
I stiffen. “And the Jedi?”
They are on Coruscant as well.
My hand goes to the hilt of my lightsaber. My enemy is near. A burning begins in my chest and spreads outward.
“Let me kill them, Master.”
“Not here,” he says. He seems preoccupied, as though I am not even in the room. “I have another plan.”
While in my Master’s presence, I was relieved at my lack of punishment. Obviously, his mind is on other things.
But as soon as I am alone, I wonder. Is my Master reviving an old method used when I was young, delaying punishment until my nerves are screaming? I never knew when my punishment would come, or what it would be. Then when it came, I would almost feel relief.
But never for long. As soon as the punishment began, relief was but a memory. I am too old now to be frightened by a roomful of dinkos, but I never underestimate my Master’s ingenuity.
Did he know of my battle with the pirates, my foolish decision to follow those bantha tracks? Did he sense my leg wound? Both of these episodes put me in danger and slowed me down. Is he waiting until I am complacent to fling my mistakes in my face?
Think of the now, Maul. Think of the future. Do not meditate on the past.
I must use my shame. I must turn it inward to make the darkness in me grow. My shame will feed my hatred. That will make me stronger, and when I meet my enemy again, I will be ready.
And now my enemy has a name. Qui-Gon Jinn.
In the past I never cared about the name of my enemy. My enemy was a target, nothing more. Knowing his name for any other purpose than tracking was valueless.
But I am glad now to be able to name my enemy. Qui-Gon Jinn. I repeat the name to myself with hatred in every syllable, chant it like a curse.
I will destroy you, Qui-Gon Jinn. I will see the shock in your eyes when I run you through, Qui-Gon Jinn. I will stand over your dead body in triumph, Qui-Gon Jinn.
Because of you, I have failed my Master.
You will pay.
My Master calls me to him and tells me that Queen Amidala has attempted to bring the Senate to her cause, just as we expected. She has asked them to outlaw the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo. She has failed, just as we expected.
He chortles with triumph, in the best mood I’ve ever seen him. It is a satisfying thing, he says, when every piece of your plan falls into place, thanks to your guile and the stupid, unknowing cooperation of your pawns.
I feel relief. My Master doesn’t know about my leg wound, about the Togorian pirates. He is vibrating with triumph, ready to take the next step. My mistakes don’t matter. Unless he is distracted by good news and will turn on me later…
“She is going back to Naboo,” he says harshly. “Foolish girl. The Jedi accompany her.” He smiles. “Come. Let us contact the Neimoidians and share the good news.”
He dons his robe and hood and activates the holocomm. Nute Gunray responds almost immediately. His eyes are fearful as he glimpses Darth Sidious. I stay out of sight.
My Master tells Nute that the Queen is on her way back to Naboo. Nute is surprised, but he does not fear her arrival.
“When she gets there, destroy her,” my Master says.
Nute nods. This is not hard for him to accomplish. He has troops and guards and assassin droids. He won’t have to dirty his hands.
Lord Sidious asks if the planet is secure. Nute rushes to assure him that it is. The Trade Federation has taken over the last pocket of primitives. They are in complete control.
I wait, hoping, knowing what my Master will say. It is my time. He needs me now. I must redeem myself. He must give me the chance to bring down Qui-Gon Jinn.
“I am sending Darth Maul to join you. He will deal with the Jedi.”
I see Nute swallow. He darts a quick look at Rune. They are not pleased at the thought of my company.
But they nod and pretend that they are.
The screen goes black. My Master laughs.
“Soon the Neimoidians will no longer be useful to us,” he says. “What a happy day that will be.”
He turns. His eyes command me. “Make sure the Neimoidians take care of Queen Amidala. You yourself must destroy the Jedi. Do not fail me again.”
Terror rises off Nute Gunray and Rune Haako like steam. I intimidate them without saying a word. It is clear the minute I arrive on Naboo. Is it my ritual tattoos, my silence, my eyes? All I have to do is look in their direction and they scurry away.
So I look in their direction often.
I find on my arrival that Nute and Rune have settled into the Theed palace as though it had been built just for them. Nute has taken over Queen Amidala’s private bedroom. They think that they will be rewarded for their loyalty with the control of Naboo.
It is true that the Neimoidians are still useful to us. But it’s also important for our lackeys to know who is really in charge.
So on the morning I arrive, I stride into the Queen’s bedroom, where Nute snoozes on her sleep-couch, covered by a blanket woven of soft shimmersilk. I yank off the coverlet and kick him. Hard.
He wakes in a panic. “Are they invading?”
What a fool he is. Disgusted, I tell him to clear out.
“These are now my quarters,” I say.
His eyes dart in fear. He tries at the last moment to take the shimmersilk cover, but
I grab it from his hands. It tears in half, and I note the dismay on Nute’s face. I rend it further just to scare him. Then I fling the pieces in his face.
“Send someone to remove the traces of your presence here,” I snap.
He runs as fast as a Neimoidian is capable, anxious to get out of my sight.
As soon as he is gone, I laugh. It’s not that I want to sleep in luxury. But I do enjoy terrifying Nute. It’s too easy, but it’s pleasurable.
I walk through the palace, noting the richness of the materials, the fine workmanship of the furnishings, the grandeur of the hallways and staircases. Windows run floor to ceiling and reflect back the pools and waterfalls of the city of Theed. I do not often notice my surroundings except as something to move through and exploit in order to accomplish a mission. But here I begin to see what lies ahead for us. Control of the galaxy in our grasp, with every luxury at our feet.
I have been raised without luxury. Bare walls, bare floors, a sleep-mat. A bowl to eat from. I have believed fine things make one soft. All my joy comes in battle, all my pleasure comes in preparing for it.
But I could be wrong about this. I could rule from a palace like this one day. It would not be so terrible a fate.
I find the throne room. Nute and Rune are talking, and they stop abruptly when I appear in the doorway. No doubt Nute was complaining about me.
I stroll in and look at Nute hard. He rises off the throne and hurries to a low chair. I sit, and they glance at me nervously.
“Status report,” I tell them.
Nute blathers that things are going well on Naboo. Rune chimes in that the people are cowed completely in the camps. The underground resistance movement is small and will be crushed any day. Every ship in the area, every troop has been alerted to watch out for the Queen’s ship. She will be spotted as soon as she enters Naboo’s atmosphere, they promise. She will no doubt land in the central square, hoping to negotiate, with the Jedi as her shields. It is impossible for her to slip through the many safeguards they have set up.
