by Terry Brooks
Obi-Wan and Anakin rushed down the hallway to help him to his feet, and it was hard to tell which of them looked the more worried. It made him smile in spite of himself.
The boy spoke first. “Are you all right?” he asked, his young face mirroring his concern.
Qui-Gon nodded, brushing himself off. “I think so. That was a surprise I won’t soon forget.”
“What sort of creature was it?” Obi-Wan pressed, brow furrowed darkly. He wants to go back and pick up where I left off, Qui-Gon thought.
The Jedi Master shook his head. “I’m not sure. Whoever or whatever he was, he was trained in the Jedi arts. My guess is he was after the Queen.”
“Do you think he’ll follow us?” Anakin asked quickly.
“We’ll be safe enough once we’re in hyperspace,” Qui-Gon replied, sidestepping the question. “But I have no doubt he knows our destination. If he found us once, he can find us again.”
The boy’s brow furrowed. “What are we going to do about it?”
At this point, Obi-Wan turned to stare at the boy, giving him a look that demanded in no uncertain terms, What do you mean, “we”? The boy caught the look and stared back at him, expressionless.
“We will be patient,” Qui-Gon advised, straightening himself, drawing their attention back to him. “Anakin Skywalker, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
The boy beamed. “Pleased to meet you. Wow! You’re a Jedi Knight, too, aren’t you?”
The younger Jedi looked from the boy to Qui-Gon and rolled his eyes in despair.
From the entry, they made their way back down the hall to the cockpit, where Ric Olié was at work preparing the ship for the jump to hyperspace. Qui-Gon introduced Anakin to each of those present, then moved to the console to stand next to Ric.
“Ready,” the pilot announced over his shoulder, one eyebrow cocked expectantly.
Qui-Gon nodded. “Let’s hope the hyperdrive works and Watto doesn’t get the last laugh.”
Standing in a group behind Ric, the company watched silently as he fitted his hands to the controls and engaged the hyperdrive. There was a quick, sharp whine, and the stars that filled the viewport turned from silver pinpricks to long streamers as the ship streaked smoothly into hyperspace, leaving Tatooine behind.
Night lay over the planet of Naboo, but the silence of Theed exceeded even that normally experienced by those anticipating sleep. In the ornately appointed throne room that had once been the sole province of Queen Amidala, a strange collection of creatures gathered to witness the sentencing of Governor Sio Bibble. Trade Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray had convened the assembled, which consisted of Rune Haako and several other Neimoidians, the governor and a handful of officials in the Queen’s service, and a vast array of battle droids armed with blasters to keep the Naboo prisoners in line.
The Neimoidian was seated in a mechno-chair, a robotic walker that bore him from one part of the room to another, metal legs moving in response to a simple touch of his fingers. It carried him to Sio Bibble and the Naboo officials now, jointed armatures working in careful precision, allowing him to remain relaxed and comfortable as he took note of the fear in the eyes of the officials backing Bibble.
The governor was having none of it, however. Steadfast even now, he faced Gunray with anger and determination, his white head level, his eyes challenging. The Neimoidian glared at him; Sio Bibble was becoming a source of irritation.
“When are you going to give up this pointless strike?” he snapped at the governor, leaning forward slightly to emphasize his displeasure.
“I will give up the strike, Viceroy, when the Queen—”
“Your Queen is lost; your people are starving!”
Bibble stiffened. “The Naboo will not be intimidated, not even at the cost of innocent lives—”
“Perhaps you should worry more about yourself, Governor!” Gunray cut him off sharply. “The odds are good that you are going to die much sooner than your people!” He was shaking with rage, and all at once his patience was exhausted. “Enough of this!” he exploded. “Take him away!”
The battle droids moved quickly, surrounding Sio Bibble, separating him from his colleagues.
“This invasion will gain you nothing!” the governor called back over his shoulder as he was dragged out. “We are a democracy! The people have decided, Viceroy! They will not live in tyranny …”
The rest of what he said was lost as he disappeared through the doorway into the hall beyond. The Naboo officials filed out after him, silent and dejected.
The Neimoidian stared after them momentarily, then turned his attention to OOM-9 as the commander of his battle droids approached, metal face blank, voice devoid of inflection.
“My troops are in position to begin searching the swamps for the rumored underwater villages,” OOM-9 reported. “They will not stay hidden for long.”
Nute Gunray nodded and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He thought nothing of these savages who occupied the swamps. They would be crushed in short order. For all intents and purposes, the planet was in his control.
He leaned back in the mechno-chair, a measure of calmness returning. All that remained was for the Sith Lords to bring him the Queen. Certainly they should have little difficulty in accomplishing that.
Nevertheless, he knew he wouldn’t be happy until this business was over.
Aboard the Queen’s transport, Anakin Skywalker sat shivering in a corner of the central chamber, trying to decide what he should do to get warm. Everyone else was asleep, and he had been asleep as well, but only for a short time, troubled by his dreams. He came awake to the silence and could not make himself move, paralyzed by more than simply the cold.
Jar Jar slept to one side, stretched out in a chair, head back, snoring loudly. Nothing kept the Gungan from sleeping. Or eating, for that matter. The boy smiled briefly. R2-D2 rested close by, upright and mostly silent, his lights blinking softly.
Anakin stared into the darkness, willing himself to move, to overcome his inertia. But his dreams haunted him still. He found himself thinking of his mother and home, and everything closed down inside. He missed her so much! He had thought it would get better once he was away, but it hadn’t. Everything reminded him of her, and if he tried to close his eyes against those memories, he found her face waiting for him, suspended in the darkness of his thoughts, anxious and worn.
Tears came to his eyes, unbidden. Maybe he had made a mistake by coming. Maybe he should go home. Except he couldn’t now. Maybe not ever again.
A slim figure entered the room, and Anakin watched the light of a viewscreen illuminate Padmé’s soft face. Standing as if carved from stone, she clicked on a recording and stood watching the replay of Sio Bibble’s plea to Queen Amidala to come home, to save her people from starvation, to help them in their time of need. She watched it all the way through, then shut it off again and stood staring at nothing, her head bent.
What was she doing?
Suddenly she seemed to sense him watching, and turned quickly toward where he crouched. Her beautiful face seemed tired and careworn as she approached and knelt beside him. He stiffened, trying desperately to stop from crying, but he couldn’t hide either the tears or his shivering, and was left huddled before her, revealed.
“Are you all right, Annie?” she asked him softly.
“It’s very cold,” he managed to whisper.
She smiled and removed her heavy over jacket, wrapping it around his shoulders and tucking it about him. “You’re from a warm planet, Annie. Space is cold.”
Anakin nodded, pulling the jacket tighter. He brushed at his eyes. “You seem sad,” he said.
If she saw the irony in his observation, she did not say so. “The Queen is worried. Her people are suffering, dying. She must convince the Senate to intervene, or else …” She trailed off, unwilling to speak the words. “I’m not sure what will happen,” she finished, her voice distant, her eyes sliding away from his to fix on something else.
“I’
m not sure what’s going to happen to me, either,” he admitted worriedly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see—”
He stopped, his throat tightening, the words fading away into silence. He took a deep breath, furrowed his brow, and reached into his pocket.
“Here,” he said, “I made this for you. So you’d remember me. I carved it out of a japor snippet. Take it. It will bring you good fortune.”
He handed her an intricately carved wooden pendant. She studied it a moment, face lowered in shadow, then slipped it around her neck.
“It’s beautiful. But I don’t need this to remember you.” Her face lifted to his with a smile. “How could I forget my future husband?” She looked down at the pendant, fingering it thoughtfully. “Many things will change when we reach Coruscant, Annie. My caring for you will not be one of them.”
The boy nodded, swallowing. “I know. And I won’t stop caring for you, either. Only, I miss—”
His voice broke, and the tears sprang into his eyes once more.
“You miss your mother,” the girl finished quietly.
Anakin nodded, wiping at his face, unable to speak a word as Padmé Naberrie drew him against her and held him close.
Even before an off-world traveler was close enough to understand why, he could tell that Coruscant was different from other planets. Seasoned veterans were always amazed at how strange the planet looked from space, casting not the softer blue and white shades of planets still verdant and unspoiled, but an odd silvery glow that suggested the reflection of sunlight off metal.
The impression was not misleading. The days in which Coruscant could be viewed in any sort of natural state were dead and gone. The capital city had expanded over the centuries, building by building, until it wrapped the entire planet. Forests, mountains, bodies of water, and natural formations had been covered over. The atmosphere was filtered through oxygen regulators and purified by scrubbers, and water was gathered and stored in massive artificial aquifers. Native animals, birds, plants, and fish could be found in the museums or the climate-controlled indoor preserves. As Anakin Skywalker could clearly see from the viewport of Queen Amidala’s slowly descending transport, Coruscant had become a planet of skyscrapers, their gleaming metal towers stretching skyward in a forest of spear points, an army of frozen giants blanketing the horizon in every direction.
The boy stared at the city-planet in awe, searching for a break in the endless forest of buildings, finding none. He glanced at Ric Olié in the pilot’s seat, and Ric smiled.
“Coruscant, capital of the Republic, an entire planet evolved into one city.” He winked. “A nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
“It’s so huge!” the boy breathed softly.
They dropped into a landfall traffic lane and cruised slowly through the maze of buildings, sliding along the magnetic guidance lines that directed airborne vehicles. Ric explained how it worked to Anakin, who listened with half an ear, his attention still held captive by the vastness of the cityscape. In the background, the Jedi moved silently. Jar Jar crouched to one side, peering over the console through the viewport, clearly terrified by what he was seeing. Anakin knew the Gungan must long for the familiarity of his swamp home, just as the boy was thinking how much better he liked the desert.
The Queen’s transport slowed now, edging its way out of the traffic lane, onto a landing dock that floated near a cluster of huge buildings. Anakin peered down doubtfully. They were several hundred stories up, hundreds and hundreds of meters in the air. He tore his gaze away, swallowing hard.
The ship docked with a soft bump on the landing platform, its antigrav clamps locking in place. The Queen was waiting in the main corridor with her retinue of handmaidens, guards, and Captain Panaka. She nodded at Qui-Gon, indicating that he should lead the way. Giving Padmé a quick smile, Anakin followed close on the heels of the Jedi Master as he moved to the hatchway.
The hatch slid open, the loading ramp lowered, and the Jedi Knights, Anakin Skywalker, and Jar Jar Binks exited into the sunlight of Coruscant. The boy spent the first few minutes concentrating on not being overwhelmed, which became even more difficult once he was outside the ship. He kept his eyes on the rampway and Qui-Gon, not allowing himself to look around at first for fear he might walk right off into space.
Two men clothed in robes of office of the Republic Senate stood at the end of the ramp, flanked by a contingent of Republic guards. The Jedi approached the pair and bowed formally in greeting. Anakin and Jar Jar were quick to do the same, though only Anakin knew who they were bowing to and why.
Now Queen Amidala appeared, dressed in her black and gold robes with the feathered headpiece lending height and flow to her movements as she descended the ramp. Her handmaidens surrounded her, wrapped in their cloaks of crimson, faces barely visible in the shadows of their drawn hoods. Captain Panaka and his complement of Naboo guards escorted them.
Amidala stopped before the two men who waited, eyes shifting to the man with the kindly face and anxious eyes. Senator Palpatine, the Queen’s emissary to the Republic Senate, bowed in welcome, hands clasped in the folds of his blue-green robes.
“It is a great relief to see you alive and well, Your Majesty,” he offered with a smile, straightening once more. “May I present Supreme Chancellor Valorum.”
Valorum was a tall, silver-haired man of indeterminate age, neither young nor old in appearance, but something of each, his bearing and voice strong, but his face and startling blue eyes tired and worried.
“Welcome, Your Highness,” he said, a faint smile working its way onto his stern features. “It is an honor to finally meet you in person. I must relay to you how distressed everyone is over the current situation on Naboo. I have called for a special session of the Senate so that you may present your request for relief.”
The Queen held his gaze without moving even a fraction of a centimeter, tall and regal in her robes of office, white-painted face as still and cool as ice. “I am grateful for your concern, Chancellor,” she said quietly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin recognized Padmé staring out at him from beneath her concealing hood. When he turned toward her, she gave him a wink, and he felt himself blush.
Palpatine had moved to the Queen’s side and was indicating an air shuttle that was awaiting them. “There is a question of procedure, but I feel confident we can overcome it,” he was saying, guiding her along the rampway, her handmaidens, Captain Panaka, and the Naboo guards in tow.
Anakin started to follow, Jar Jar at his side, then stopped as he saw that the Jedi were still standing with Supreme Chancellor Valorum. Anakin glanced back questioningly at Qui-Gon, not certain where he was supposed to go. The Queen and her retinue slowed in response, and Amidala motioned for Anakin and the Gungan to join them. Anakin looked again at Qui-Gon, who nodded wordlessly.
Moving into the air shuttle with the Queen, Anakin and Jar Jar settled quietly into place in the very back seat. Senator Palpatine glanced over his shoulder at them from the front, a look of skepticism crossing his face before he turned away again.
“Me not feelen too good ’bout being here, Annie,” the Gungan whispered doubtfully.
Anakin nodded and tightened his mouth determinedly.
They flew only a short distance to another cluster of buildings and another loading dock, this one clearly meant for shuttlecraft. There, they disembarked and were escorted by Palpatine to his quarters, a portion of which had been made ready for the Queen and her entourage. Anakin and Jar Jar were given a room and a chance to clean up and were left alone. After a time, they were collected by one of the handmaidens—not Padmé, Anakin noted with disappointment—and escorted to a waiting room situated outside what appeared to be Pal-patine’s office.
“Wait here,” the handmaiden instructed, and disappeared back down the hallway.
The doors to the senator’s office were open, and the boy and the Gungan could see inside clearly. The Queen was present, dressed now in a gow
n of purple velvet, which was wrapped about her slim form in layers, the sleeves long and full, hanging gracefully from her slender arms. A fan-shaped crown with ornate beadwork and tassels rested upon her head. She was sitting in a chair, listening as Palpatine spoke to her. Her handmaidens stood to one side, crimson robes and hoods drawn close about them. Anakin did not think either was Padmé. He wondered if he should try to find her instead of waiting here, but he did not know where to look.
The conversation within seemed decidedly one-sided, Senator Palpatine gesturing animatedly as he stalked the room, the Queen as still as stone. Anakin wished he could hear what was being said. He glanced at Jar Jar, and he could tell from the Gungan’s restless eyes he was thinking the same thing.
When Captain Panaka walked past them and entered the room beyond, screening them from view for just a moment, Anakin rose impulsively. Motioning for Jar Jar to stay where he was, putting a finger to his lips in warning, he moved to one side of the doorway, pressing close. Through the crack between the open door and the jamb, he could just make out the voices of Palpatine and the Queen, muffled and indistinct.
Palpatine had stopped moving and was standing before the Queen, shaking his head. “The Republic is not what it once was. The Senate is full of greedy, squabbling delegates who are only looking out for themselves and their home systems. There is no interest in the common good—no civility, only politics.” He sighed wearily. “It’s disgusting. I must be frank, Your Majesty. There is little chance the Senate will act on the invasion.”
Amidala was silent a moment. “Chancellor Valorum seems to think there is hope.”
“If I may say so, Your Majesty,” the senator replied, his voice kind, but sad, “the chancellor has little real power. He is mired in baseless accusations of corruption. A manufactured scandal surrounds him. The bureaucrats are in charge now.”
The Queen rose, standing tall and fixed before him. “What options do we have, Senator?”
Palpatine seemed to think on the matter for a moment. “Our best choice would be to push for the election of a stronger supreme chancellor—one who could take control of the bureaucrats, enforce the laws, and give us justice.” He brushed back his thick hair, worrying his forehead with steepled fingers. “You could call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Valorum.”
