by Jude Watson
Anakin looked worried. It was too far away. We didn’t know how fierce the sandstorms could be on Tatooine. We had to come with him to his home.
I looked at Qui-Gon. Even as he hesitated, the force of the wind picked up, driving the sand against our clothes and skin, Jar Jar moaned in fright, and Qui-Gon nodded at Anakin.
I couldn’t see the street behind us, or what was ahead. Everything was a blur. As I followed Anakin, I remembered my grandmother telling me, “Fate is a tangle. Follow one thread.”
Her name was Winama. She died last year. She wasn’t a farmer like her son, my father. She always preferred city life. I lived with her in Theed during my training. She was a weaver.
Those are the facts I can tell you about Winama. But the feelings are something else. How close we were, and how funny she was, and how she gave me the feeling I could do anything.
But she did have a habit of coming out with sayings I never quite understood. She knew it, too. She knew I was impatient with her. She knew that in my head I was asking, What does that mean?
I wish I could talk to her now. I wish I could say, Winama, I think I’m beginning to understand.
I miss her so much. But if I knew Winama was in a camp right now, I don’t think I could bear it.
I drew my hood around me and covered my mouth. I was choking on dust and sand. I closed my eyes to near slits. I had never felt such driving wind before. The storm blotted out the two suns and turned the air into a stinging force. Anakin held my hand firmly, leading us through the howling storm toward safety. And as he did, I had the strange sensation that I had met one thread of my fate.
LATER
Anakin led us to the quarter where the slaves lived. I could just make out the buildings, small and shabby and built out of what seemed to be sand mixed with a harder substance. Stacked on top of each other, the structures looked more like cubbyholes than houses.
Anakin stopped in front of a hut that looked identical to the others. He waited until he was sure we were all together. Then he quickly pushed open the door and urged us through. We ran inside so that the sand wouldn’t blow in.
What does the home of a slave look like?
I didn’t know what to expect. My first impression was care. Someone here had taken a cavelike structure and poured time and love into it. It looked clean and scrubbed. There wasn’t much furniture, but it looked sturdy and well kept.
The kitchen was small, with only a few pots for cooking. I could see alcoves that probably led to the sleeping areas.
“Dissen cozy,” Jar Jar said in relief. I had to agree.
Anakin called for his mother. An older woman who had eyes with the same piercing quality as Anakin’s emerged from an alcove. She couldn’t mask her surprise at seeing her hut filled with dusty strangers and a droid.
“These are my friends,” Anakin said quickly. “This is Padmé, and… and…”
Anakin’s mother waited, an eyebrow raised. And why did you bring strangers into our home? she seemed to say. Since I’d seen what a dangerous world Tatooine was, I didn’t blame her.
“They needed shelter,” Anakin said, pointing to the window. We could hear the sand pellets hammering against it.
Qui-Gon quickly stepped in and introduced us all. The woman told us that her name was Shmi Skywalker. I didn’t get a chance to hear anything else because Anakin dragged me off to his sleeping alcove. He had turned into a young boy again, anxious to show me his projects.
I must admit, I am impressed. He has fashioned a protocol droid out of stray parts. The droid has no covering yet, and only one eye. But the programming seems sound. Its name is See-Threepio.
“I’m also building a Podracer,” Anakin bragged.
Yet it wasn’t empty bragging. This boy has talents beyond his years.
When we returned to the main room for the meal, I noticed how often and how warmly Shmi’s eyes rested on Anakin. There is love in this house, I can see that. But there’s also a certain sadness. Something lurks in Shmi’s eyes that I don’t understand.
Qui-Gon is watching, too. He watches even more than I do, if that’s possible. But he seems to put pieces together. I just sift through them and try to puzzle out the meanings.
What does he see that I don’t?
Anakin had been right about the storm. It raged all that afternoon and evening. We never would have made it back to the ship.
As we ate our simple supper, we tried to ignore the wind outside. Over the noise of Jar Jar’s slurping, Anakin and his mother tried to give us a picture of what their lives were like. Anakin was cheerful, saying that finding Watto had been good luck. The blue creature was far from kind, but at least he did not beat his slaves.
Shmi had a more hardheaded view of the situation. As slaves, they were not permitted to travel without permission. They were assigned dwellings. She added that they also have a transmission device implanted in their bodies. If they make any attempt to escape, they will be blown up.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Slavery isn’t permitted by the Republic. There are antislavery laws—”
Shmi cut me off. “The Republic doesn’t exist out here,” she said sharply. “We must survive on our own.”
I looked at my plate, confused and embarrassed. My life hasn’t always been full of riches. I have worked on the land. I have studied and struggled. But now I know that I’d never even glimpsed the kind of hard effort that Shmi faces, just to get through one day.
I have placed all my faith in the Republic. Its laws are formalized, enforced throughout the galaxies. Yet there are places, whole worlds, where they are ignored.
Am I placing too much faith in the Senate? It is all I have. But is depending on it to right the wrongs of the Naboo asking too much?
Anakin broke the silence, asking if I’d ever seen a Podrace. Of course, I hadn’t.
Qui-Gon spoke up to say that he had. They are extremely dangerous. Anakin proudly responded that he is the only Human who’s able to do it.
Qui-Gon gave him a long look. Again, I had the sense that he was putting pieces together. “You must have Jedi reflexes,” he said.
Anakin flushed, pleased. Just then, Jar Jar tried to steal a morsel of food from the communal bowl with his long tongue. In a flash, Qui-Gon reached out and grabbed the end of his tongue. The movement was quicker than the eye could catch. Anakin stared at him, amazed.
And then he asked if Qui-Gon was a Jedi.
“What makes you think so?” Qui-Gon replied.
Anakin told him that he’d seen Qui-Gon’s laser sword. Qui-Gon suggested that he’d killed a Jedi and had stolen it.
“No one can kill a Jedi Knight,” Anakin said firmly.
A look came over Qui-Gon’s rugged face. Rueful. Sad. “I wish that were so.”
Anakin told us that he had a dream that he was a Jedi Knight. He returned to Tatooine and freed all the slaves. He asked if that was what Qui-Gon was here to accomplish.
Qui-Gon’s smile was sad as he told Anakin that he was afraid not.
Anakin fixed his eager, unblinking gaze on Qui-Gon. “Then why are you here?” he asked simply.
I could see Qui-Gon take a breath and consider. Then he told the truth, or at least part of it. He said we were on our way to Coruscant on a secret mission. We had to land on Tatooine for repairs.
I knew Anakin would burst forth with suggestions and help, and he did. But Qui-Gon pointed out that we needed an expensive part, and Watto was unwilling to trade.
“The junk dealers must have a weakness of some kind,” I mused aloud.
Shmi nodded. “Gambling. Everything around here revolves around betting on those terrible Podraces.”
Qui-Gon looked thoughtful. “Greed can be a powerful ally.”
Anakin almost bounced from his chair in excitement. The big Boonta Eve Classic Podrace was in just two days. He was building a Podracer that Watto didn’t know about. The scheme tumbled from him. Qui-Gon could enter the Podracer. He could get Watto to loan Anakin t
o drive it.
We all stared at the boy. It was actually a good plan. Then I saw Shmi’s pale face.
“Annie, you know I don’t want you to race,” she said quietly. “I die every time Watto makes you do it. It’s not just the speed. It’s the treachery of those other drivers.”
“But our friends are in trouble,” Anakin insisted.
Qui-Gon’s eyes darted from mother to son. He told Anakin that his mother was right. Then he turned to Shmi and asked her if she could think of anyone else who could help us.
Slowly, reluctantly, she shook her head.
“You see?” Anakin cried. “We have to help them, Mom. You always say that the biggest problem in the universe is that no one helps each other.”
Shmi turned her face away. I had just caught the sheen of tears. “Anakin, don’t…”
I felt my heart contract with her pain. I had come from seeing so much suffering on my world. I didn’t want to bring any to this house.
“I’m sure Qui-Gon would never want to put your son in danger,” I told her. “We’ll find another way. There is always another way.” I shot an angry look at Qui-Gon. He stared back, impassive. I didn’t know what he was thinking.
But Shmi surprised me. She lifted her head. The tears were gone. Or had I imagined them?
“Annie is right. There is no other way,” she said. “He can help you. He was meant to help you.”
It was a strange thing to say. For a moment, Shmi and I locked eyes. Something passed between us. As though she were giving her son to me. How odd.
THE NEXT DAY
I’ve spoken to Qui-Gon. I waited until we were alone. Artoo and Jar Jar had gone ahead into the junk dealer’s, while Qui-Gon and I were in the plaza.
I started with a question. Was he sure that trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know was the right thing?
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“And break his mother’s heart?” I prodded.
He turned his neutral gaze on me. “She has willed it.”
“The Queen would not approve,” I told him.
“The Queen does not have to know,” he said.
The arrogance! I couldn’t help myself. “Well, I don’t approve,” I snapped.
Perhaps I gave too much away. I don’t care. It’s so infuriating to be in this handmaiden role, unable to command! Especially when it comes to Jedi. But to be honest, I have a feeling that even if I were in my most stately of costumes as Queen Amidala, Qui-Gon still wouldn’t listen to me.
Yes, they are wise and respected and brave. But does anyone ever mention how infuriating the Jedi can be?
Qui-Gon disappeared into Watto’s shop. I followed, keeping out of sight. I knew that Qui-Gon must have a plan to deal with Watto. The junk dealer had cunning, but I guessed that Qui-Gon was counting on his greed.
Watto buzzed around Qui-Gon in a flurry of irritation, saying that he’d heard Qui-Gon intended to sponsor Anakin in the Podrace. He pointed out that there was a hefty entry fee. And they didn’t take credit, he warned.
Qui-Gon showed Watto a hologram of the ship. He intended to use the ship as the entry fee.
Wait a second, I thought. Qui-Gon was about to gamble with my ship?
Qui-Gon told Watto that he had won a Podracer in a bet. Watto’s eyes suddenly gleamed with interest. If Qui-Gon would supply the Podracer and the entry fee, he’d supply Anakin, and they’d split any winnings fifty-fifty.
Qui-Gon’s eyebrows shot up. If Watto was demanding a fifty-fifty split, then he could front the entry fee. If Anakin won, Watto could keep all the winnings, minus what we need for the part.
“And if he loses,” Qui-Gon concluded, “you can keep my ship.”
My ship? Since when was my ship Qui-Gon’s ship? My blood boiled. How could he do this without consulting me?
Then I remembered I was Padmé, not Amidala. I couldn’t stride forward and give orders. I would have to trust Qui-Gon.
I hate that.
LATER
I am back at Anakin’s. He asked for my help fixing the Podracer. I’m afraid this engine is unlike any that I know. But I can hold tools and pass them.
Anakin’s friends suddenly appeared to help as well. It’s obvious that the little band looks to Anakin as their leader. Even as they tease him for entering his home-built Podracer in such a big race.
Qui-Gon approached us and gave Anakin a battery.
“I think it’s time we found out if this thing can run,” he said.
I had worked all afternoon. My hands were grimy. I was tired from stooping. And to my eye, it seemed impossible that this makeshift bucket could carry Anakin to victory.
But when I heard the engines ignite and roar, my cheer was louder than anybody’s. At that moment, anything seemed possible.
NIGHT
I’m not sure what woke me. I slipped out of bed and went to the window. Shmi sat on the front stoop. She looked up at the night sky. I saw her face in the starlight.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen such sadness.
Is this what life is? Today, we have a victory—the Podracer roars to life. Tonight, that victory cuts someone to the heart.
Is that the bargain we make with life? Does every pleasure have a pain embedded in it, like a stone at the heart of a fruit? The trick is to hold two contradictions at the same time. Pain and pleasure. Exhilaration and sadness. The fruit and the stone.
I don’t like contradictions. I like things to be clear.
I’m shivering. It’s not from cold, but dread. I had felt safe here. But I was foolish to feel safe.
There are forces out there I don’t understand. I do know one thing, though. They want me dead.
There is no safe place. A mother can’t protect her child forever. And a queen cannot hide.
On the day of the race, I woke before dawn. Even before I was fully awake, I was up and hurrying outside. Artoo was painting the Pod. Anakin slept on the ground nearby. He had probably fallen asleep on his feet. Without the light of challenge in his dark eyes, he looked younger. Vulnerable.
I shook my head. What was Qui-Gon thinking? We should be protecting this boy, not depending on him to save us.
I touched his cheek to wake him.
“I was dreaming,” he said. “You were leading a huge army into battle.”
I couldn’t help smiling. I am not a warrior queen, and I can’t imagine ever being one. “I hope not. I hate fighting.”
I do hate it. And worse, I hate being in exile. How awful that I have to run away, maybe fight one day, just to find peace. That’s why I am on fire to get to Coruscant. I want to stand up and say, This is wrong! Say it so clearly and strongly that the Senate would rise up and cry it with me. Naboo will be free again.
I told Anakin to hurry. The others had already left for the arena. Today, a race would decide my fate.
Anakin and I rode to the arena together on an eopie, a Tatooine beast of burden. We dragged the Podracer engines behind us. Anakin’s friend Kitster rode on another eopie, dragging more parts.
I was shocked at the huge size of the arena and the tremendous crowd. Every available seat was filled. The heat and the noise were like a physical force, pressing against my chest.
“Isn’t it great?” Anakin said cheerfully. “The Boonta Classic always gets a crowd. Everyone comes from the Outer Rim Territories.”
I saw creatures of every description. Sluglike, spiderlike, tall as trees, tall as my knee. They were all arguing, betting, eating, shouting, fighting, laughing.
“They come because this is the most dangerous race of all,” Anakin said, his eyes shining.
I couldn’t believe he didn’t feel the pressure. This crowd was out for blood. I imagined that a crash or dismemberment would only make them roar with delight and call for more.
Anakin guided our eopies toward a huge hangar nearby. As we entered, I saw Qui-Gon and Watto deep in conversation. I gave Qui-Gon a sharp look. Was there something going on that I didn’t know about? He pretended not
to notice me. I turned away in frustration.
“This is so wizard!” Kitster called from the other eopie as he surveyed the other Pods. “I’m sure you’ll do it this time, Annie!”
This time? I asked Kitster what he meant.
“Finish the race, of course!” Kitster replied.
Shocked, I turned to Anakin. “You mean you’ve never won a race?”
Anakin looked sheepish. “Not exactly.”
“Did you ever finish a race?” I persisted.
Anakin threw Kitster a dark look. “I will today,” he vowed.
“Of course you will,” Qui-Gon said in the calm tone that made me want to take his lightsaber and clunk him over the head.
We climbed down from the eopie and Anakin and Kitster wandered off.
I’ve found a quiet place behind the bleachers to write this, but I hear the announcers. The race will begin soon. I must hide my apprehension and wish Anakin luck.
LATER
I didn’t have time for much encouragement. Just a few words. “You carry all our hopes,” I whispered.
Anakin’s gaze was steady. “I won’t let you down.”
Next to him was Sebulba, the ugly creature who’d almost pummeled Jar Jar. He growled something at Anakin. I assumed it was not in the spirit of good sportsmanship.
“What did he call you?” I asked.
“Slave scum,” Anakin replied. “Don’t worry, Padmé. He’ll be chewing on my exhaust in a couple of minutes.”
It was time. I headed to the viewing platform where Shmi was already waiting. Jar Jar stared longingly at the food stalls, unraveling his long tongue as if testing the air for tastes. Then Qui-Gon arrived and took a seat with a calmness I envied.
I turned to him furiously. “This is pure recklessness,” I said, quietly so the others wouldn’t hear. “The Queen—”
Qui-Gon interrupted me with a gesture. “The Queen trusts my judgment. You should, too.”
