Star Wars: Episode II: Attack of the Clones

by R. A. Salvatore

  Soon after, a frustrated and thoroughly bewildered Obi-Wan walked out of the small meditation chamber, shaking his head and no more certain of anything than he had been when he had entered the place.

  His patience exhausted into frustration, the Jedi Knight decided to seek a higher authority, one wiser and more experienced. His short trip took him out of the Temple proper and onto the veranda, and there he paused and watched, and in the innocent scene before him found some relief from the frustration.

  Master Yoda was leading twenty of the yo ungest Jedi recruits, children only four or five years old, through their morning training exercises, battling floating training droids with miniature lightsabers.

  Obi-Wan recalled his own training. He couldn't see the eyes of the youngsters, for they wore protective full-face helmets, but he could well imagine the range of emotions playing out on their innocent faces. There would be intensity, and then great joy whenever an energy bolt from a training droid was blocked, and that elation would inevitably dissipate in the next instant, when the joy brought distraction and distraction allowed the next energy bolt to slip past and bring a sudden, jolting sting.

  And those little bolts did sting, Obi-Wan remembered, as much physically as in pride. There was nothing worse than getting zapped, particularly in the backside. It always caused one to do a little hopping and twisting dance, which naturally made the embarrassment all the worse. Obi-Wan recalled that feeling vividly, recalled thinking that everyone in the courtyard was staring at him.

  The training could be humiliating.

  But it was also energizing, because with the failures would come the successes, each one building confidence, each one lending insights into the flowing beauty that was the Force, heightening the connection that separated a Jedi from the rest of the galaxy.

  To see Yoda leading the training this day, looking exactly as he had when he had led Obi-Wan's training a quarter century before, brought a flush of warmth to the Jedi Knight.

  “Don't think... feel,” Yoda instructed the group. “Be as one with the Force.”

  Obi-Wan, smiling, mouthed the exact words as Yoda finished, “Help you, it will.”

  How many times he had heard that!

  He was still grinning widely when Yoda turned to him. “Younglings, enough!” the great Jedi Master commanded. “A visitor we have. Welcome him.”

  Twenty little lightsabers clicked off and the students came to attention together, removing their helmets and tucking them properly under their left arms.

  “Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Yoda said, keeping enough gravity in his voice so that the younglings wouldn't feel mocked.

  “Welcome, Master Obi-Wan!” the twenty called out together.

  “I am sorry to disturb you, Master,” Obi-Wan said with a slight bow.

  “What help to you, can I be?”

  Obi-Wan considered the question for a moment. He had specifically come out here looking for Yoda, but now, in seeing the diminutive Master at his important work, he wondered if he had let his patience fall away too quickly. Was it his place to ask Yoda to help him with a mission that was his own responsibility? It didn't take long for Obi-Wan to dismiss the question. He was a Jedi Knight, Yoda, a Master, and his responsibilities and Yoda's were ultimately one and the same. He didn't expect that Yoda could help him with this particular problem, but then again, Yoda had always been full of surprises, full of going far beyond any expectations.

  “I'm looking for a planet described to me by an old friend,” he explained, and he knew that Yoda was absorbing every word. “I trust him and the information he provided, but the system doesn't show up on the archive maps.” As he finished, he showed Yoda that he had a hologlobe with him.

  “An interesting puzzle,” Yoda answered. “Lost a planet, Master Obi-Wan has. How embarrassing... how embarrassing. An interesting puzzle. Gather, younglings, around the map reader. Clear your minds and find Obi-Wan's wayward planet, we will try.”

  They went into a room to the side of the veranda. A narrow shaft was set in the middle, with a hollow depression at the top. Off to the side, Obi-Wan took up the hologlobe, then moved and placed it in the hollow of the shaft. The shades closed as soon as he put it there, darkening the room, and a star map hologram appeared, glittering distinctly.

  Obi-Wan paused a moment before presenting his dilemma, allowing the younglings to get past the initial excitement. He watched with amusement as some reached up and tried to touch the projected starlights. Then, when all quieted, he walked into the middle of the projection. “This is where it ought to be,” he explained. “Gravity is pulling all the stars in this area inward to this spot. There should be a star here, but there isn't.”

  “Most interesting,” Yoda said. “Gravity's silhouette remains, but the star and all its planets have disappeared. How can this be? Now, younglings, in your mind, what is the first thing you see? An answer? A thought? Anyone?”

  Obi-Wan took Yoda's quiet cue and paused then, watching the Jedi Master look over his gathering.

  A hand went up, and while Obi-Wan felt the urge to chuckle at the idea of a youngling solving a riddle that had befuddled a trio of accomplished Jedi, including Yoda and Madame Jocasta Nu, he noted that Yoda was quite focused and serious.

  Yoda nodded to the student, who answered at once. “Because someone erased it from the archive memory.”

  “That's right!” another of the children agreed at once. “That's what happened! Someone erased it!”

  “If the planet blew up, the gravity would go away,” another one of the children called out.

  Obi-Wan stared blankly at the excited group, stunned, but Yoda only chuckled.

  “Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is,” he explained. “Uncluttered. The data must have been erased.”

  Yoda started out of the room and Obi-Wan moved to follow, flicking his hand as he passed the reader shaft, Force-pulling the hologlobe back to his grasp and instantly dismissing the starry scene.

  “To the center of the pull of gravity go, and find your planet you will,” Yoda advised him.

  “But Master Yoda, who could have erased information from the Archives? That's impossible, isn't it?”

  “Dangerous and disturbing this puzzle is,” Yoda replied with a frown. “Only a Jedi could have erased those files. But who and why, harder to answer. Meditate on this, I will. May the Force be with you.”

  A thousand questions filtered through Obi-Wan's mind, but he understood that Yoda had just dismissed him. They each had their riddles, it seemed, but at least now Obi-Wan's path seemed much clearer before him. He gave a deferential bow, but Yoda, already back to his work with the children, didn't seem to notice. Obi-Wan walked away.

  Soon after, not wanting to waste a moment, Obi-Wan was out on the landing platform standing beside his readied starfighter, a long and sleek delta-wing fighter, of a triangular design, with the cockpit set far aft. Mace Windu was there beside him, the tall and strong-featured Master regarding Obi-Wan with his typically calm and controlled demeanor. There was something reassuring about Mace Windu, a sense of power and, even more than that, of destiny. Mace Windu had a way of silently assuring all those around him that things would work out as they were supposed to.

  “Be wary,” he said to Obi-Wan, tilting his head back just a bit as he spoke, a posture that made him seem all the more impressive. “This disturbance in the Force is growing stronger.”

  Obi-Wan nodded, though in truth, his concerns were more focused and tangible at that moment. “I'm concerned for my Padawan. He is not ready to be on his own.”

  Mace gave a nod, as if to remind Obi-Wan that they had covered this already. “He has exceptional skills,” the Master replied. “The Council is confident in its decision, Obi-Wan. Not all of the questions about him have been answered, of course, but his talents cannot be dismissed, and we are not disappointed in the progress he has made under your tutelage.”

  Obi-Wan considered the words carefully and nodded again, knowing that he
was walking a fine line here. If he overstated his concerns about Anakin's temperament, he might be doing a great disservice to the Jedi and to the galaxy. And yet, if he let the magnitude of his assignment in training Anakin Skywalker bring him to silence on legitimate questions, then was he doing great harm?

  “If the prophecy is true, Anakin will be the one to bring balance to the Force,” Mace finished.

  “But he still has much to learn. His skills have made him... well—” Obi-Wan paused, trying to walk that delicate line. “—arrogant. I realize now what you and Master Yoda knew from the beginning. The boy was too old to start the training, and...”

  The frown spreading on Mace Windu's face signaled Obi-Wan that he might be pushing a bit too hard.

  “There's something else,” Mace observed.

  Obi-Wan took a deep and steadying breath. “Master, Anakin and I should not have been given this assignment. I'm afraid Anakin won't be able to protect the Senator.”

  “Why?”

  “He has a... an emotional connection with her. It's been there since he was a boy. Now he's confused, and distracted.” As he spoke, Obi-Wan started toward his star fighter. He climbed up the cockpit ladder and into his seat.

  “So you have already stated,” Mace reminded. “And your concerns were weighed properly, and did not change the decision of the Council. Obi-Wan, you must have faith that Anakin will take the right path.” It made sense, of course. If Anakin was to become a great leader, a creature of prophecy, then surely his character tests must be passed. Anakin was waging one of those tests right now, Obi-Wan knew, off in seclusion on a distant planet with a woman whom he loved too deeply. He had to be strong enough to pass that test; Obi-Wan just hoped that Anakin recognized the trial for what it was.

  “Has Master Yoda gained any insight as to whether or not this war will come about?” he asked, somewhat changing the subject, though he felt that it was all very connected. Finding the assassin, making peace with the separatists—all of these things would allow him to focus more closely on Anakin's training and would keep things at a more even keel around the troubled Padawan.

  “Probing the dark side is a dangerous process,” Mace stated. “I know not when he will choose to begin, but when he does , it is quite possible that he will remain in seclusion for days.”

  Obi-Wan nodded his agreement and Mace gave him a smile and a wave. “May the Force be with you.”

  “Set the course to the hyperspace ring, Arfour,” Obi-Wan instructed his astromech droid, an R4-P unit that was hardwired into the left wing of the sleek starfighter. Silently, the Jedi Knight added to himself, Let's get this thing moving.

  = XIV =

  It was a scene of simplicity, of children playing and adults sitting quietly under the warm sun, or gossiping across neatly trimmed hedgerows. It was a scene of absolute normalcy for Naboo, but it was nothing like Anakin Skywalker had ever witnessed. On Tatooine, the houses were singular, out in the desert, or they were clustered tightly in cities like Mos Eisley, with its hustle and bustle and bright colors and brighter characters. On Coruscant, there were no streets like this one any longer. There were no hedgerows and trees lining the ground, just permacrete and old buildings and the gray foundations of the towering skyscrapers. People did not gossip, with children running carefree about them, in either place.

  To Anakin, it was a scene of simple beauty.

  He was back to wearing his Jedi robes, the peasant garb discarded. Padmé walked alongside him in a simple blue dress that only seemed to enhance her beauty. Anakin kept glancing her way, stealing images of her to burn into his mind, to hold forever in a special place. She could be wearing anything, he realized, and still be beautiful.

  Anakin smiled as he recalled the ornate outfits Padmé had often worn as Queen of Naboo, huge gowns with intricate embroidery and studded with gemstones, tremendous headpieces of plumes and swirls and curves and twists.

  He liked her better like this, he decided. All of the decorations of her Queenly outfits had been beautifully designed, but still could only detract from the more beautifully designed Padmé. Wearing a great headpiece only hid her silken brown hair. Painting her face in whites and bright red only hid her beautiful skin. The embroidery on the great gowns only blurred the perfection of her form.

  This was the way Anakin wanted to see her, where her clothing was just a finishing touch.

  “There's my house!” Padmé cried suddenly, startling Anakin from his pleasant daydreams.

  He followed her gaze to see a simple but tasteful structure, surrounded, like everything on Naboo, by flowers and vines and hedges. Padmé started off immediately for the door, but Anakin didn't follow right away. He studied the house, every line, every detail, trying to see in it the environment that had produced her. She had told him many stories of her childhood in this house during their trip from Coruscant, and he was replaying those tales, seeing them in context now that the yard was in view.

  “What?” Padmé asked him from some distance ahead, when she noticed that he was not following. “Don't tell me you're shy!”

  “No, but I—” the distracted Anakin started to answer, but he was interrupted by the squeals of two little girls, running out from the yard toward his companion.

  “Aunt Padmé! Aunt Padmé!”

  Padmé's smile went as wide as Anakin had ever seen it and she rushed ahead, bending low to scoop the pair, who looked to be no more than a few years old, one a bit taller than the other, into her arms. One had hair short and blond and curly, the other, the older of the two, had hair that resembled Padmé's.

  “Ryoo! Pooja!” Padmé cried, hugging them and twirling them about. “I'm so happy to see you!” She kissed them both and set them down, then took them by the hand and led them toward Anakin.

  “This is Anakin. Anakin, this is Ryoo and Pooja!”

  The blush on the pair as they shyly said hello brought a burst of laughter from Padmé and a smile to Anakin's face, though he was equally ill at ease as the two children.

  The girls' shyness lasted only as long as it took for them to notice the little droid rolling behind Anakin, trying to catch up.

  “Artoo!” they shouted in unison. Breaking away from Padmé, they rushed to the droid, leaping upon him, hugging him cheek to dome.

  And R2-D2 seemed equally thrilled, beeping and whistling as happily as Anakin had ever heard.

  Anakin couldn't help but be touched by the scene, a view of innocence that he had never known.

  Well, not never, he had to admit. There were times when Shmi had found some way to produce such moments of joy amid the drudgery that was life as a slave on Tatooine. In their own way, in that dusty, dirty, hot, and smelly place, Anakin and his mother had carved out a few instants of innocent beauty. Here, though, such moments seemed so much more the norm than the memorable exception.

  Anakin turned back to Padmé, to see that she was no longer looking his way, but had turned toward the house, where another woman, who looked very much like Padmé, was approaching.

  Not exactly like Padmé, Anakin noted. She was a little older, a little heavier, and a little more... worn, was the only word he could think of. But not in a bad way. Yes, he could see it now, he thought, watching as she and Padmé hugged tightly. This was whom Padmé could become—more settled, more content, perhaps. Considering the amazing resemblance, Anakin was hardly surprised when Padmé introduced the woman as her sister, Sola.

  “Mom and Dad will be so happy to see you,” Sola said to Padmé. “It's been a difficult few weeks.”

  Padmé frowned. She knew that word of the attempts on her life would have reached her parents' ears, and that was possibly the most disturbing thing of all to her.

  Anakin saw it all on her face, and he understood it well, and he loved her all the more for that generosity. Padmé wasn't really afraid of anything—she could handle the reality of her current situation, the reality of the fact that someone was trying to kill her, with determination and courage. But the one thing
about it all that troubled her, aside from the political ramifications of such distractions, the ways they might weaken her position in the Senate, was the effect of such danger upon those she loved. He knew that she didn't want to bring pain to her family.

  Anakin, who had left his mother as a slave on Tatooine, could appreciate that.

  “Mom's making dinner,” Sola explained, noting Padmé's discomfort and generously changing the subject. “As usual, your timing is perfect.” She started toward the house. Padmé waited for Anakin to move beside her, then took his hand, looked up, smiled at him, and led him toward the door. R2-D2 rolled along right behind, with Ryoo and Pooja bouncing all about him.

  The interior of the house was just as simply wonderful and just as full of life and soft color as was the yard. There were no glaring lights, no beeping consoles or flickering computer screens. The furniture was plush and comfortable; the floors were made of cool stone or covered in soft carpeting.

  This was not a building as Anakin had known on Coruscant, and not a hovel, as he had known all too well on Tatooine. No, seeing this place, this street, this yard, this home, made the young Padawan even more convinced of what he had declared to Padmé not so long before that if he had grown up on Naboo, he would never leave.

  The next introductions were a bit more uncomfortable, but only for a moment, as Padmé showed Anakin to Ruwee, her father, a strong-shouldered man with a face that was plain and strong and compassionate all at once. He wore his brown hair short, but still it was a bit out of place, a bit... comfortable. Padmé introduced Jobal next, and Anakin knew that the woman was her mother without being told. The moment he met her, he understood where Padmé had gotten her innocent and sincere smile, a look that could disarm a mob of bloodthirsty Gamorrean raiders. Jobal's face had that same comforting quality, that same obvious generosity.

  Soon after, Anakin, Padmé, and Ruwee were sitting at the dinner table, comfortably quiet and listening to the bustle in the next room, which included the clanking of stoneware plates and mugs, and Sola repeatedly saying, “Too much, Mom.” And every time she said that, Ruwee and Padmé smiled knowingly.