by Terry Brooks
"Viceroy," Darth Sidious spoke softly in the sudden silence, "this is my apprentice, Lord Maul. He will find your lost ship."
Nute Gunray inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, averting his eyes from the frightening presence. "Yes, my lord."
The hologram shimmered and disappeared, leaving the conference room empty of sound. The Neimoidians sat without moving, without even looking at each other, reptilian eyes fixed, on the space the hologram had occupied.
"This is getting out of hand," Nute Gunray ventured finally, his voice high and tight, thinking that their plans for sabotaging the trade-routes tax did not contemplate risking their lives in the process.
Rune Haako managed a quick nod. "We should not have made this bargain. What will happen when the Jedi become aware that we are doing business with these Sith Lords?"
Nute Gunray, his hands clasped tightly before him, did not care to venture an answer.
Aboard the Queen's transport, the Jedi stood with Captain Panaka and the remaining R2 unit as the captain gave his report to the Queen on the events surrounding their escape through the Trade Federation blockade. Amidala sat surrounded by her three handmaidens, white face framed by the black headdress, dark eyes steady, listening as the captain concluded.
"We are lucky to have this one in our service, Your Highness." Panaka glanced down at the blue-domed astromech droid. "It is an extremely well put together little droid. Without a doubt, it saved the ship back there, not to mention our lives."
Amidala nodded, eyes shifting to the droid. "It is to be com^mended. What is its number?"
The little blue droid, lights blinking on and off as it processed the conversation, gave a series of small beeps and tweets. Captain Panaka reached down and scraped a large smudge off the droid's metal shell, then straightened.
"Artoo-Detoo, Your Highness."
Queen Amidala leaned forward, and a slender white hand came out to touch the droid's domed casing. "Thank you, Artoo-Detoo. You have proven both loyal and brave." She glanced over her shoulder. "Padme."
One of her handmaidens came forward. Qui-Gon Jinn, listening to the exchange with half an ear as he considered the problems that lay ahead on Tatooine, noticed it was the young woman who had supported the Queen's decision to escape from Naboo. He frowned. Except, it hadn't been exactly like that...
"See to the cleaning up of this little droid." The Queen was speaking to the girl. "Artoo-Detoo deserves our gratitude." She turned back to Panaka. "Please continue with your report, Captain."
Panaka glanced uncomfortably at the Jedi Knights. "Your Highness, we are heading for a remote planet called Tatooine." He paused, unwilling to speak further on the matter.
"It is a system far beyond the reach of the Trade Federation." Qui-Gon stepped into the gap smoothly. "Once there, we will be able to make needed repairs to the ship, then to travel on to Coruscant and complete our journey."
"Your Highness," Captain Panaka said quickly, regaining his thoughts on the matter. "Tatooine is very dangerous. It's controlled by the Hutts. The Hutts are gangsters and slavers. I do not agree with the Jedi on their decision to land there."
The Queen looked at Qui-Gon. The Jedi did not waver. "You must trust my judgment, Your Highness."
"Must I?" Arnidala asked quietly. She shifted her gaze to her handmaidens, ending with Padme. The girl had not moved from the Queen's side, but seemed to remember suddenly she had been given a task to complete. She nodded briefly to the Queen, and moved to take R2 - D2 in hand.
Amidala looked back at Qui-Gon Jinn. "We are in your hands," she advised, and the matter was settled.
Jar Jar Binks had been left in the droid storage hold until after the lone R2 unit returned through the airlock and the Naboo came to retrieve it. They didn't seem to have any orders regarding the Gungan, so they simply left him to his own devices. At first Jar Jar was reluctant to venture out, still thinking of the younger Jedi's admonishment to stay put and out of trouble. He'd managed one out of two, and he wasn't sure he wanted to tempt fate.
But in the end his curiosity and restlessness got the better of him. The transport had stopped spinning, the Trade Federation attack had ceased, and the warning alarms had been silenced. Everything was peaceful, and the Gungan saw no reason why he should have to stay shut away in this tiny room for one more minute.
So he cracked the door, stuck his billed face out for a look around, eyestalks swiveling guardedly, saw no one, and made his decision. He left the storage room and wandered along the ship's corridors-choosing a path that took him away from the cockpit, where the Jedi were likely to be found. He waited for someone to tell him to go back to where he had come from, but no one did, so he began to poke into things, careful what he touched, but unable to help himself sufficiently to forgo all investigation. He was following a narrow corridor that led up from the lower levels of the transport to the main cabin when he poked his head through an airlock to find one of the Queen's handmaidens hard at work with an old cloth cleaning the R2 astromech droid.
"Heydey ho!" he called out.
The handmaiden and the R2 unit both started, the girl with a small cry and the droid with a loud beep. Jar Jar jumped in turn, then slowly eased himself through the opening, embarrassed that he had frightened them so badly.
"Me sorry," he apologized. "Me not mean to scare yous. Okeday?"
The girl smiled. "That's all right. Come over here."
Jar Jar came forward a few steps, studying the condition of the droid. "Me find oilcan back dere. Yous need it?"
The girl nodded. "It would help. This little guy is quite a mess."
Jar Jar scrambled back through the opening, groped about a bit, found the oilcan he had remembered, and brought it to the girl. "This helps?"
"Thank you," she said, accepting the can. She flipped up the cap and poured some of the oil onto the cloth, then began rubbing the R2 unit's dome.
"Me Jar Jar Binks," Jar Jar said after a few moments, taking a chance on trying to continue the conversation. He liked this Naboo girl.
"I'm Padme," the girl answered. "I attend Her Highness, Queen Arnidala. This is Artoo-Detoo." She rubbed a black smudge from the droid's strut. "You're a Gungan, aren't you?"
Jar Jar nodded, long ears flapping against his neck. "How did you end up here with us?"
Jar Jar thought about it a minute. "Me not know exactly. Da day start okeday wit da sunnup. Me munchen clams. Den, boom! Maccaneks every which way, dey flyen, dey scooten...Me get very scared. Den Jedi runnen, and me grab Quiggon, den maccaneks rollen over, den go down under da lake to Otoh Gunga ta da Boss Nass..."
He stopped, not knowing where else to go. Padme was nodding encouragingly. R2 - D2 beeped. "Tis 'bout it. Before me know what, pow! Me here!"
He sat back on his haunches and shrugged. "Get very, very scared."
He looked from the girl to the droid. Padrne smiled some more. R2-D2 beeped again. Jar Jar felt pretty good.
In the cockpit, Ric Olie was directing the transport toward a large yellowish planet that was steadily filling up the viewport as they approached its surface. The Jedi and Captain Panaka stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the ground maps he had punched up on the monitors.
"Tatooine," Obi-Wan Kenobi confirmed, speaking to no one in particular.
Ric Olie pointed to one of the maps on the scopes. "There's a settlement that should have what we need...a spaceport, it looks like. Mos Espa." He glanced up at the Jedi.
"Land near the city's outskirts," Qui-Gon Jinn ordered. "We don't want to attract attention."
The pilot nodded and began to guide the transport in. It took only moments to direct it down through the planet's atmosphere to a patch of desert just in sight of the city. The Nubian landed in a swirl of dust, settling comfortably in place atop its landing struts. In the distance, Mos Espa glimmered faintly through the shimmer of the midday heat.
Qui-Gon sent his protege to uncouple the hyperdrive and Captain Panaka to advise the Queen of their landi
ng. He was settled on going into the spaceport alone as he left the cockpit to find other clothing and carne upon Jar Jar Binks, the Queen's handmaiden Padrne, and the little R2 unit.
He slowed, considering the possibility that going into the city alone would make him more noticeable. "Jar Jar," he said finally. "Get ready. You're going with me. The droid as well."
He continued on without looking back. The Gungan stared after him in disbelief, then in horror. By the time he regained his wits, the Jedi was out of view. Wailing in dismay, he chased after him and came upon Obi-Wan in the main cabin hoisting the hyperdrive out of the bowels of the ship.
"Obi-One, sire!" he gasped, throwing himselft'O his knees in front of the younger Jedi. "Pleeese, me no go wit Quiggon!"
Obi-Wan was inclined to agree, but knew better than to say so. "Sorry, but Qui-Gon is right. This is a multinational spaceport, a trading center. You'll make him appear less obvious by going along." His brow furrowed as he turned back to the hyperdrive. "I hope," he muttered to himself.
Jar Jar climbed to his feet and trudged disconsolately toward R2 - D2, his mouth set in a grimace of forbearance. The astromech droid beeped in sympathy, then made a series of encouraging clicks.
Qui-Gon reappeared, dressed now as a farmer in tunic, leggings, and a poncho. He walked past them to where Obi-Wan was studying the hyperdrive. "What have you found?"
Obi-Wan's young face clouded. "The generator is shot. We'll need a new one. "
"I thought as much." The Jedi Master knelt next to his protege. "Well, we can't risk a communication with Coruscant this far out on the edge of the galaxy. It might be intercepted and our position revealed. We'll have to get by on our own." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "Don't let anyone send a transmission while I'm gone. Be wary, Obi-Wan. I sense a disturbance in the Force."
Obi-Wan's eyes lifted to find his. "I feel it also, Master. I will be careful."
Qui-Gon rose, gathered up Jar Jar and the R2 unit, and headed down the loading ramp to the planet's floor. An empty carpet of sand stretched away in all directions, broken only by massive rock formations and the distant skyline ofMos Espa. The suns that gave the planet life beat down with such ferocity that it seemed as if they were determined to steal that life back again. Heat rose off the sand in a shimmering wave, and the air was so dry it sucked the moisture from their throat and nose passages.
Jar Jar glanced skyward, eyestalks craning, billed amphibious face wrinkling in dismay. "Dis sun gonna do murder ta da skin of ills Gungan," he muttered.
At a signal from Qui-Gon, they began to walk-or, in the case of the R2 unit, to roll. A strange caravan of animals and riders, carts and sleds appeared against the distant skyline like a shadowy mirage, all misshapen and threatening to evaporate in the blink of an eye. Jar Jar muttered some more, but no one was paying attention.
They had not gotten far when a shout brought them around. Two figures were running toward them from the transport. As they neared, Qui-Gon was able to make out Captain Panaka and a girl dressed in rough peasant's garb. He stopped and waited until they caught up, a frown creasing his leonine features.
Panaka was sweating. "Her Highness commands you to take her handmaiden with you. She wishes for Padme to give her own report of what you might-"
"No more commands from Her Highness today, Captain," Qui-Gon interrupted quickly, shaking his head in refusal. "Mos Espa is not going to be a pleasant place for-"
"The Queen wishes it," Panaka interrupted him right back, his face angry and set. "She is emphatic. She wishes to know more about this planet."
The girl took a step forward. Her dark eyes found Qui-Gon's. "I've been trained in self-defense. I speak a number of languages. I am not afraid. I can take care of myself."
Captain Panaka sighed, looking over his shoulder toward the ship. "Don't make me go back and tell her you refuse."
Qui-Gon hesitated, prepared to do exactly that. Then he looked at Padme again, saw strength in her eyes, and changed his mind. She might be useful. Traveling with a girl, they might suggest a family in transit and present a less aggressive look.
He nodded. "I don't have time to argue the matter, Captain. I still think this is a bad idea, but she may come." He gave Padme a look of warning. "Stay close to me."
He started away again, the others trailing. Captain Panaka stood watching with undisguised relief as the strange little procession of Jedi Master, handmaiden, Gungan, and astromech droid moved off into the sweltering landscape toward Mos Espa.
9
It was not yet midafternoon by the time the members of the little company under Qui-Gon Jinn's command reached Mos Espa and made their way toward the spaceport's center. Mos Espa was large and sprawling and had the look of a gnarled serpent hunkered down in the sand to escape the heat. The buildings were domed and thick-walled and curved to protect against the sun, and the stalls and shops were fronted by awnings and verandas that provided a measure of shade to their vendors. Streets were broad and packed with beings of every shape and size, most from off planet. Some rode the desert-seasoned eo pies. Domesticated banthas, massive and horned, and lumbering dew backs hauled carts, sleds, and wagons that ran on wheels and mechanical tracks by turn, a mishmash of commerce trafficking between Tatooine's smaller ports and the planets of star systems beyond.
Qui-Gon kept a close watch for trouble. There were Rodians and Dugs and others whose purpose was always suspect. Most of those they passed paid them no notice. One or two turned to glance at Jar Jar, but dismissed the Gungan almost out of hand once they got a good look at him. As a group, they blended in nicely. There were so many combinations of creatures of every species that the appearance of one more meant almost nothing.
"Tatooine is home to Jabba the Hutt, who controls the bulk of the trafficking in illegal goods, piracy, and slavery that generates most of the planet's wealth," Qui-Gon was explaining to Padme. He had been on Tatooine before, though it had been some years ago. "Jabba controls the spaceports and settlements, all of the populated areas. The desert belongs to the Jawas, who scavenge whatever they can find to sell or trade, and to the Tuskens, who live a nomadic life and feel free to steal from everyone."
The Jedi kept his voice low and conversational. The girl walked silently at his elbow, her sharp eyes taking in everything. Speeders nosed by them, and droids of every size toiled in the service of desert-garbed aliens.
"There are a number of farms as well, outlying operations that take advantage of the climate-moisture farms for the most part, operated by off- worlders not a part of the indigenous tribes and scavengers, not connected directly to the Hutts." His eyes. swept the street ahead. "This is a rough and dangerous place. Most avoid it. Its few spaceports have become havens for those who do not wish to be found."
Padme glanced up at him. "Like us," she said.
A pair of domesticated banthas rumbled down the broad avenue, hairy bulks clearing a path for a sled train of quarry blocks and metal struts, horned heads nodding sleepily, padded feet stirring sand and dust in thick clouds with each lumbering step. Their driver dozed atop the foremost sled in the train, small and insignificant in their shadow.
Jar Jar Binks stayed as close as he could manage to the Jedi and the girl, his eyes darting left and right, head swiveling as if it might twist right off his shoulders. Nothing he saw was familiar or welcome. Hard looks followed after him. Sharp eyes measured him for things he would just as soon not think about. Stares were at best challenging and at worst unfriendly. He did not like this place. He wished he were almost anywhere else.
"Tis very bad, dis." He swallowed against a dryness in his throat that was caused by more than the heat. "Nutten good 'bout ills place!" He took a careless step and found himself ankle deep in a foul-smelling ooze. "Oh, oh. Tis icky!"
R2 - D2 rolled cheerfully along at his side, beeping and chirping in a futile effort at reassuring the Gungan that all was well.
They traveled the main street of the spaceport to its far end and turned down a
side street that led to a small plaza ringed with salvage dealers and junk shops. Qui-Gon glanced at the mounds of engine parts, control panels, and communication chips recovered from starships and speeders.
"We'll try one of these smaller dealers first," he advised, nodding toward one in which a vast pile of old transports and parts was heaped within an attached compound.
They walked through the shop's low entry and were greeted by a pudgy blue creature who flew into their faces like a crazed probe, tiny wings buzzing so fast they could barely be seen. "Hi chubba da nago?" it snapped in a frizzy, guttural voice, demanding to know their business.
A Toydarian, Qui-Gon thought. He knew enough to recognize one, but not much else. "1 need parts for a J-type 327 Nubian," he advised the other.
The Toydarian fairly beamed with delight, his reticular snout curling over his toothy mouth and making odd smacking noises. "Ah, yes! Nubian! We have lots of that." The sharp, bulbous eyes flicked from one face to the other, ending with the Gungan. "What's this?"
Jar Jar shrank behind Qui-Gon fearfully. "Never mind that." The Jedi brushed the Toydarian's question aside. "Call. you help us or not?"
"Can you pay me or not-that's the question!" The skinny blue arms crossed defiandy over the rounded torso as the Toydarian regarded them with disdain. "What kinda junk you after, farmer?"
"My droid has a readout of what I need," Qui-Gon advised the otber with a glance down at the R2 unit.
Still hanging midair in front of Qui-Gon's nose, the Toydarian glanced over one shoulder. "Peedunkel! Naba dee unko!"
