Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace

by Terry Brooks

  Mace Windu nodded his concurrence, his dark, smooth face expressionless in the dim light. “His cells contain a very high concentration of midi-chlorians.” There was emphasis on the word very as he spoke.

  “The Force is strong in him,” Ki-Adi-Mundi agreed.

  Qui-Gon felt a rush of satisfaction on hearing the words, a vindication of his insistence on freeing the boy from his life on Tatooine and bringing him here. “He is to be trained, then,” he declared in triumph.

  There was an uncomfortable silence as the Council members looked from one to the other.

  “No,” Mace Windu said quietly. “He will not be trained.”

  Anakin’s face crumpled, and there were tears in his eyes as he glanced quickly at Qui-Gon.

  “No?” the Jedi Master repeated in disbelief, shocked almost speechless. He tried hard to ignore the I-told-you-so look on Obi-Wan’s young face.

  Mace Windu nodded, dark eyes steady. “He is too old. There is already too much anger in him.”

  Qui-Gon was incensed, but he held himself in check. This decision made no sense. It could not be allowed to stand. “He is the chosen one,” he insisted vehemently. “You must see it!”

  Yoda cocked his round head contemplatively. “Clouded, this boy’s future is. Masked by his youth.”

  Qui-Gon searched the faces of the other members of the Jedi Council, but found no help. He straightened and nodded his acceptance of their decision. “Very well. I will train him then. I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan apprentice.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Obi-Wan stiffen in shock. He saw, as well, the sudden flicker of hope that crossed Anakin’s face. He did not respond to either, keeping his gaze directed toward the Council.

  “An apprentice, you already have, Qui-Gon,” Yoda pointed out sharply. “Impossible, to take on a second.”

  “We forbid it,” Mace Windu advised darkly.

  “Obi-Wan is ready,” Qui-Gon declared.

  “I am!” his protégé agreed heatedly, trying unsuccessfully to mask his surprise and disappointment in his mentor’s unexpected decision. “I am ready to face the trials!”

  Yoda’s sleepy eyes shifted. “Ready so early, are you? What know you of ready?”

  Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged quick, hard looks, and the measure of their newfound antagonism was palpable. The breach in their relationship was widening so quickly it could no longer be mapped.

  Qui-Gon took a deep breath and turned back to the Council. “Obi-Wan is headstrong, and he has much to learn still about the living Force, but he is capable. There is little more he will learn from me.”

  Yoda shook his wizened face. “Our own counsel we will keep on who is ready, Qui-Gon. More to learn, he has.”

  “Now is not the time for this,” Mace Windu stated with finality. “The Senate will vote tomorrow for a new supreme chancellor. Queen Amidala returns home, we are advised, which will put pressure on the Federation and could widen the confrontation. Those responsible will be quick to act on these new events.”

  “Drawn out of hiding, her attackers will be,” Yoda whispered.

  “Events are moving too fast for distractions such as this,” Ki-Adi-Mundi added.

  Mace Windu took a quick look about at the others sitting on the Council, then turned once more to Qui-Gon. “Go with the Queen to Naboo and discover the identity of this dark warrior who attacked you, be it Sith or otherwise. That is the clue we need to unravel this mystery.”

  Yoda’s nod was slow and brooked no argument. “Decided later, young Skywalker’s fate will be.”

  Qui-Gon took a deep breath, filled with frustration and disappointment at the unexpected turn of events. Anakin would not be trained, even though he had offered to take the boy as his Padawan. Worse, he had offended Obi-Wan, not intentionally perhaps, but deeply nevertheless. The rift was not permanent, but it would take time for the younger man’s pride to heal—time they could not afford.

  He bowed his acquiescence to the Council. “I brought Anakin here; he must stay in my charge. He has nowhere else to go.”

  Mace Windu nodded. “He is your ward, Qui-Gon. We do not dispute that.”

  “But train him not!” Yoda admonished sharply. “Take him with you, but train him not!”

  The words stung, the force behind them unmistakable. Qui-Gon flinched inwardly, but said nothing.

  “Protect the Queen,” Mace Windu added. “But do not intercede if it comes to war until we have the Senate’s approval.”

  There was a long silence as the members of the Council regarded Qui-Gon Jinn gravely. He stood there, trying to think of something more to say, some other argument to offer. Outside, the last of the twilight faded into darkness, and the lights of the city began to blink on like watchful eyes.

  “May the Force be with you,” Yoda said finally, signaling to the Jedi Master that the audience was over.

  The Jedi and the boy, having been made aware of Amidala’s imminent departure for Naboo, went directly to the landing platform where the Queen’s transport was anchored to await her arrival. The shuttle ride over was marked by a strained silence between the Jedi and a discomfort in the boy he could not dispel. He looked down at his feet most of the time, wishing he could think of a way to stop Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan from being angry at each other.

  When they disembarked from the shuttle at the landing platform, R2-D2 was already bustling about. The little droid beeped at Anakin cheerfully, then wandered over to the edge of the rampway to look down at the traffic. In doing so, he leaned out too far and tumbled over. Anakin gasped, but a second later the astromech droid reappeared, boosted back onto the rampway by his onboard jets. On hearing R2-D2’s ensuing flurry of chirps and whistles, the boy smiled in spite of himself.

  At the head of the loading ramp, Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi were engaged in a heated discussion. Wind whipped down the canyons of the city’s towering buildings, hiding their words from the boy. Carefully, he edged closer so that he could listen in.

  “It is not disrespect, Master!” Obi-Wan was saying vehemently. “It is the truth!”

  “From your point of view, perhaps.” Qui-Gon’s face was hard and tight with anger.

  The younger Jedi’s voice dropped a notch. “The boy is dangerous. They all sense it. Why can’t you?”

  “His fate is uncertain, but he is not dangerous,” Qui-Gon corrected sharply. “The Council will decide Anakin’s future. That should be enough for you.” He turned away dismissively. “Now get on board!”

  Obi-Wan wheeled away and stalked up the ramp into the ship. R2-D2 followed, still whistling happily. Qui-Gon turned to Anakin, and the boy walked up to him.

  “Master Qui-Gon,” he said uncomfortably, riddled with doubt and guilt over what was happening, “I don’t want to be a problem.”

  Qui-Gon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You won’t be, Annie.” He glanced toward the ship, then knelt before the boy. “I’m not allowed to train you, so I want you to watch me instead and be mindful of what you see. Always remember, your focus determines your reality.” He paused, eyes locked on Anakin. “Stay close to me, and you will be safe.”

  The boy nodded his understanding. “Can I ask you something?” The Jedi Master nodded. “What are midi-chlorians?”

  Wind whipped at Qui-Gon’s long hair, blowing strands of it across his strong face. “Midi-chlorians are microscopic life-forms that reside within the cells of all living things and communicate with the Force.”

  “They live inside of me?” the boy asked.

  “In your cells.” Qui-Gon paused. “We are symbionts with the midi-chlorians.”

  “Symbi-what?”

  “Symbionts. Life-forms living together for mutual advantage. Without the midi-chlorians, life could not exist, and we would have no knowledge of the Force. Our midi-chlorians continually speak to us, Annie, telling us the will of the Force.”

  “They do?”

  Qui-Gon cocked one eyebrow. “When you learn to quiet your mi
nd, you will hear them speaking to you.”

  Anakin thought about it a moment, then frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Qui-Gon smiled, and his eyes were warm and secretive. “With time and training, Annie, you will.”

  A pair of shuttles eased up to the loading dock, and Queen Amidala, her handmaidens, Captain Panaka, and an escort of officers and guards disembarked. Last off the second shuttle was Jar Jar Binks. Amidala was wearing a purple velvet travel cloak that draped her body in soft folds and a gold-rimmed cowl that framed her smooth white face like a cameo portrait.

  Qui-Gon rose and stood waiting beside Anakin as the Queen and her handmaidens approached.

  “Your Highness,” Qui-Gon greeted with a deferential inclination of his head. “It will be our pleasure to continue to serve and protect you.”

  Amidala nodded. “I welcome your help. Senator Palpatine fears the Federation means to destroy me.”

  “I promise you, we will not let that happen,” the Jedi Master advised solemnly.

  The Queen turned and with her handmaidens followed Panaka and the Naboo guards and officers into the transport.

  Jar Jar hurried over and enveloped Anakin in a huge hug. “Weesa goen home, Annie!” he exclaimed with a grin, and Anakin Skywalker hugged him back.

  Moments later they were all aboard, and the sleek transport had lifted off, leaving Coruscant behind.

  It was night in the Naboo capital city of Theed, the streets empty and silent save for the occasional passing of battle-droid patrols and the whisper of the wind. In the Queen’s throne room, Nute Gunray and Rune Haako stood attentively before a hologram of Darth Sidious. The hologram filled the space at one end of the room, rising up before them menacingly.

  The dark-cloaked figure at its center gestured. “The Queen is on her way to you,” the Sith Lord intoned softly. “When she arrives, force her to sign the treaty.”

  There was a momentary pause as the Neimoidians exchanged worried looks. “Yes, my lord,” Nute Gunray agreed reluctantly.

  “Viceroy, is the planet secure?” The dark figure in the hologram shimmered with movement.

  “Yes, my lord.” Gunray was on firmer ground here. “We have taken the last pockets of resistance, consisting of mostly primitive life-forms. We are now in complete control.”

  The faceless speaker nodded. “Good. I will see to it that in the Senate things stay as they are. I am sending Darth Maul to join you. He will deal with the Jedi.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The words were a litany.

  The hologram and Darth Sidious faded away. The Neimoidians stood where they were, frozen in place.

  “A Sith Lord, here with us?” Rune Haako whispered in disbelief, and this time Nute Gunray had nothing to say at all.

  Aboard the Queen’s transport, coming out of hyperspace and approaching the Naboo star system, Qui-Gon Jinn paused on his way to a meeting with the Queen to study Anakin Skywalker.

  The boy stood at the pilot’s console next to Ric Olié. The Naboo pilot was bent forward over the controls, pointing each one out in turn and explaining its function. Anakin was absorbing the information with astonishing quickness, brow furrowed, eyes intense, concentration total.

  “And that one?” The boy pointed.

  “The forward stabilizer.” Ric Olié glanced up at him expectantly, waiting.

  “And those control the pitch?” Anakin indicated a bank of levers by the pilot’s right hand.

  Ric Olié’s weathered face broke into a grin. “You catch on pretty quick.”

  As quick as anyone he had ever encountered, Qui-Gon Jinn thought. That was the reason Anakin was so special. It gave evidence of his high midi-chlorian count. It suggested anew that he was the chosen one.

  The Jedi Master sighed. Why could the Council not accept that this was so? Why were they so afraid of taking a chance on the boy, when the signs were so clear?

  Qui-Gon found himself frustrated all over again. He understood their thinking. It was bad that Anakin was so old, but not fatal to his chances. What troubled them was not his age, but the conflict they sensed within him. Anakin was wrestling with his parentage, with his separation from his mother, his friends, and his home. Especially his mother. He was old enough to appreciate what might happen, and the result was an uncertainty that worked within him like a caged animal seeking to break free. The Jedi Council knew that it could not tame that uncertainty from without, that it could be mastered only from within. They believed Anakin Skywalker too old for this, his thinking and his beliefs too settled to be safely reshaped. He was vulnerable to his inner conflict, and the dark side would be quick to take advantage of this.

  Qui-Gon shook his head, staring over at the boy from the back of the cockpit. Yes, there were risks in accepting him as an apprentice. But few things of worth were accomplished in life without risk. The Jedi order was founded on strict adherence to established procedures in the raising and educating of young Jedi, but there were exceptions to all things, even this. That the Jedi Council was refusing even to consider that this was an instance in which an exception should be made was intolerable.

  Still, he must keep faith, he knew. He must believe. The decision not to train Anakin would be reconsidered on their return and reversed. If the Council did not embrace the boy’s training as a Jedi voluntarily, then it would be up to Qui-Gon to find a way to make it do so.

  He turned away then and walked from the cabin to the passageways beyond and descended one level to the Queen’s chambers. The others she had called together for this meeting were already present when he arrived. Obi-Wan gave him a brief, neutral nod of recognition, standing next to a glowering Captain Panaka. Jar Jar Binks hugged the wall to one side, apparently trying to disappear into it. Amidala sat on her shipboard throne on a raised dais set against one wall, two of her handmaidens, Rabé and Eirtaé, flanking her. Her white-painted face was composed and her gaze cool as it met his own, but there was fire in the words she spoke next.

  “When we land on Naboo,” she advised the Jedi Master after he had bowed and taken up a position next to Panaka, “it is my intention to act on this invasion at once. My people have suffered enough.”

  Panaka could barely contain himself, his dark face tight with anger. “When we land, Your Highness, the Trade Federation will arrest you and force you to sign their treaty!”

  Qui-Gon nodded thoughtfully, curious as to the Queen’s thinking. “I agree. I’m not sure what you hope to accomplish by this.”

  Amidala might have been carved from stone. “The Naboo are going to take back what is ours.”

  “There are only twelve of us!” Panaka snapped, unable to keep silent. “Your Highness,” he added belatedly. “We have no army!”

  Her eyes shifted to Qui-Gon. “The Jedi cannot fight a war for you, Your Highness,” he advised. “We can only protect you.”

  She let her gaze drift from them to settle on Jar Jar. The Gungan was studying his toes. “Jar Jar Binks!” she called.

  Jar Jar, clearly caught off guard, stiffened. “Me, Your Highness?”

  “Yes,” Amidala of the Naboo affirmed. “I have need of your help.”

  Deep in the Naboo swamps, at the edge of the lake that bored downward to the Gungan capital city of Otoh Gunga, the fugitives from the Queen’s transport were grouped at the water’s edge, waiting for the return of Jar Jar Binks. Amidala and her handmaidens, the Jedi Knights, Captain Panaka, Anakin, R2-D2, Ric Olié and several other pilots, and a handful of Naboo guards clustered uneasily in the misty silence. It was safe to say that even now no one but the Queen knew exactly what it was she was attempting to do. All she had been willing to reveal to those in a position to inquire was that she wished to make contact with the Gungan people and Jar Jar would be her emissary. She had insisted on landing in the swamp, even after both Panaka and the Jedi had advised against it.

  A single battleship orbited the planet, all that remained of the Trade Federation blockade. Housed within was the control station responsible for
directing the droid army that occupied Naboo. When Panaka wondered aloud at the absence of the other battleships, Qui-Gon pointed out rather dryly that you don’t need a blockade once you control the port.

  Anakin, standing apart from the others with R2-D2, studied the group surreptitiously. Jar Jar had been gone a long time, and everyone but the Queen was growing restless. She stood wrapped in her soft robes, silent and implacable in the midst of her handmaidens. Padmé, Eirtaé, and Rabé had changed from their crimson hooded cloaks into more functional trousers, tunics, boots, and long-waisted overcoats, and there were blasters strapped to their waists. The boy had never seen Padmé like this, and he found himself wondering how good a fighter she was.

  As if realizing he was thinking of her, Padmé broke away from the others and came over to him.

  “How are you, Annie?” she asked quietly, her kind eyes locking on his.

  He shrugged. “Okay. I’ve missed you.”

  “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk with you before, but I’ve been very busy.”

  They hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other since leaving Tatooine, and Anakin hadn’t even seen Padmé since their departure from Coruscant. It had bothered him, but he’d kept it to himself.

  “I didn’t—I—” he stuttered, looking down at his boots. “They decided not to make me a Jedi.”

  He recounted the story for her, detailing the events surrounding his appearance before the Jedi Council. Padmé listened intently, then touched his cheek with her cool fingers. “They can change their minds, Annie. Don’t give up hope.”

  She bent close then. “I have something to tell you. The Queen has made a painful, difficult decision—a decision that will change everything for the Naboo. We are a peaceful people, and we do not believe in war. But sometimes there is no choice. Either you adapt or you die. The Queen understands this. She has decided to take an aggressive posture with the Trade Federation army. The Naboo are going to fight to regain their freedom.”