“Most importantly, find out who he’s working for,” Mace Windu added.
Beside him, Obi-Wan felt some of the tension leave Anakin. He appreciated Anakin’s confidence in his ability to find the assassin, but Anakin should have learned by this time that receiving an assignment didn’t necessarily mean completing it successfully. And there was still Padmé to consider. “What about Senator Amidala?” he asked. “She will still need protection.”
“Handle that, your Padawan will,” Yoda said.
Obi-Wan looked at Yoda in consternation. Anakin, alone, guarding Padmé…He’s too young, and too interested in her. They should assign someone else. But he couldn’t say that to the Jedi Council in front of Anakin, not without a strong reason. All he had was an uncomfortable feeling. He stayed silent.
“Anakin,” Mace Windu said, “escort the Senator back to her home planet. She’ll be safer there. And don’t use registered transport. Travel as refugees.”
“It will be very difficult to get Senator Amidala to leave the capital,” Anakin said.
At least he’s thinking. Obi-Wan began to feel less worried. As long as Anakin thought about what he was doing, instead of charging ahead on impulse, he would be fine.
Master Yoda’s ears turned down firmly. “Until caught this killer is, our judgment she must respect.”
Anakin still looked doubtful—with reason, Obi-Wan thought. Senator Amidala isn’t going to like taking orders from someone she remembers as a little boy. Mace Windu looked thoughtfully at the two of them, then said, “Anakin, go to the Senate and ask Chancellor Palpatine to speak with her.”
The other Council members nodded. It was a good idea, Obi-Wan had to admit. If anyone could persuade Padmé to follow the Jedi’s advice, Palpatine could. So why did he have such a bad feeling about all this?
Anakin hurried past the Senate and into the huge office building beside it. He had only been to the Chancellor’s office a few times before, usually with his Master, but there was no way to go wrong. Palpatine’s office occupied the very top of the skyscraper.
When he heard the problem, Chancellor Palpatine nodded in understanding. “I will talk to her,” he told Anakin. “Senator Amidala will not refuse an executive order. I know her well enough to assure you of that.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency.”Anakin replied. He took a last glance out the window—the Chancellor’s office had a matchless view of the endless city below, and Anakin had always found it compelling.
Before Anakin could say farewell, Palpatine smiled warmly. “So, my young Padawan, they have finally given you an assignment,” he said, and Anakin could sense his interest and approval. “Your patience has paid off.”
“Your guidance, more than my patience,” Anakin said, but he couldn’t help being gratified, as always, by Palpatine’s interest. When they had first met on Naboo just after the war, Anakin had only been nine. He hadn’t really expected so important a person as the Chancellor to remember him. But Chancellor Palpatine had said then that he would follow Anakin’s career with interest, and he had done just that. The Chancellor kep his promises; Anakin couldn’t understand why Obi-Wan insisted on doubting him just because he was a politician.
“You don’t need guidance, Anakin,” the Chancellor said seriously. “In time, you will learn to trust your feelings. Then you will be invincible.”He turned to walk to the door with Anakin. “I have said it many times: You are the most gifted Jedi I have ever met.”
Anakin felt a shiver of pleasure at the compliment. It meant even more, coming from the Chancellor. He’s not even a Jedi, and he can see I have talent! “Thank you, your Excellency,” he said.
Palpatine smiled, as if he knew how good his praise made Anakin feel. “I see you becoming the greatest of all the Jedi, Anakin. Even more powerful than Master Yoda.”
Slightly dazzled by such an impressive vision of his future, Anakin could only mutter his thanks and appreciation once more. But as he left the building, he felt as if he were floating on air.
As soon as the Jedi Council adjourned, Obi-Wan went in search of Master Yoda. He couldn’t hurt Anakin by expressing his doubts about the mission in public, but he could certainly ask Yoda for advice privately.
He found Yoda making the circuit of the Jedi Temple halls in a floating chair. He was deep in discussion with Master Windu, who walked beside him. The two looked at Obi-Wan encouragingly. Obi-Wan hesitated only a moment when he saw them both. He’d only planned to talk to Master Yoda, but another point of view might be very useful, and Master Windu was certainly as understanding as Master Yoda.
“I am concerned for my Padawan,” Obi-Wan told them. “He is not ready to be given this assignment on his own yet.”
Yoda tilted his head, looking up at him slantwise. “The Council is confident in this decision, Obi-Wan.”
“The boy has exceptional skills,” Master Windu added.
“But he still has much to learn, Master,” Obi-wan said. “And his abilities have made him…well, arrogant.”
To his surprise, Yoda nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes,” the little Jedi Master said. “It is a flaw more and more common among Jedi. Too sure of themselves they are. Even the older, more experienced ones.”
And Master Yoda is worried about it, Obi-Wan thought. Or he wouldn’t be so emphatic, or call it a common flaw. He thought back to his first encounters with Anakin. The boy had been much older than normal to begin Jedi training—too old, some had said. But if Anakin had been too old to begin training, Obi-Wan had certainly been very young to take on a Padawan apprentice. Perhaps there was arrogance on more than one side. Was it really Anakin he doubted, or was it his own abilities as a teacher?
“Remember, Obi-Wan,” Master Windu said. “If the prophecy is true, your apprentice is the only one who can bring the Force back into balance.”
“If he follows the right path,” Obi-Wan said without thinking. Then he did think, and shivered. Prophecies were tricky things, and the dark side of the Force was growing stronger. Anakin would never choose that path, of course, but—
But what would happen if he did?
Padmé dropped a silk jacket into her carry bag and tucked it into place with exaggerated care. She hated to be driven away from Coruscant after all she had gone through to get back in time for the vote. Be honest; you just hate running away, period. But Chancellor Palpatine had been very firm.
She saw Dormé give her a wary, sidelong look, and sighed. She shouldn’t be taking her temper out on people who had nothing to do with the problem. She put a skirt into the bag and glared at the doorway, where Anakin stood talking to Jar Jar Binks, just as if this were normal. There was the problem—that overgrown apprentice Jedi who’d talked Chancellor Palpatine into making her leave Coruscant.
Jar Jar caught her glare and looked at her uncertainly. Padmé sighed again. This wasn’t his fault, either. From Jar Jar’s expression, it was clear that Anakin hadn’t fully explained. Well, he couldn’t; he wasn’t the Senator, after all. Forcing a smile, she said to Jar Jar, “I am taking an extended leave of absence. It will be your responsibility to take my place in the Senate. Representative Binks, I know I can count on you.”
“Mesa honored to be taken on dissa heavy burden,” Jar Jar replied, a little pompously. “Mesa accept this with muy muy humility and da—”
Padmé walked over and gave him a hug, which completely derailed his speech. “You are a good friend, Jar Jar,” she said. “But I don’t wish to hold you up. I’m sure you have a great deal to do.”
“Of course, M’lady,” Jar Jar said. As he left, he nodded to Anakin, which only made Padmé feel more cross.
As soon as Jar Jar was gone, Padmé turned to Anakin. “I do not like this idea of hiding,” she complained.
Anakin raised his hands placatingly. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “Now that the Council has ordered an investigation, it won’t take Master Kenobi long to find that bounty hunter.”
As if t
hat was the main problem! Padmé frowned at him. “I haven’t worked for an entire year to defeat the Military Creation Act in order not to be here when its fate is decided!”
“Sometimes we have to let go of our pride and do what is requested of us.”
He sounds as if he’s lecturing a small child! Just because he’s gotten so tall…“Pride?” She drew herself up in all her Senatorial formality and dignity. “Annie, you’re young, and you don’t have a very firm grip on politics. I suggest you reserve your opinions for some other time.”
She saw the flash of hurt in his expression before he, too, sought refuge in formality. “Sorry, M’lady,” he said. As he turned away, she heard him murmur, “I was only trying to…”
To what? To help? Annie had always tried to help. But now she could feel him withdrawing from her, and somehow she knew that he was doing so only because he thought it was what she wanted. “Annie!” she protested. “No!”
His head came up, and he looked at her for a long moment. He seemed almost more hurt than before. Then he said softly, “Please don’t call me that.”
“What?” She hadn’t insulted him; she had only called him—
“Annie.”
Bewildered, Padmé stared at him, her anger forgotten. “But I’ve always called you that. It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“My name is Anakin,” he said, and she heard an echo in his voice of the nine-year-old boy telling her firmly, My name is Anakin, and I’m a person. “When you say Annie it’s like I’m still a little boy. And I’m not.”
“I’m sorry, Anakin,” she said sincerely. Then she grinned and let her gaze travel slowly from his feet up—and up—until her head tilted back so that she could see his face. “It’s impossible to deny that you’ve grown up.”
Anakin reddened, and his eyes fell. “Master Obi-Wan manages not to see it,” he muttered.
“Mentors have a way of seeing more of our faults than we would like,” Padmé said, thinking of her own teachers on Naboo. “It’s the only way we grow.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Anakin said, looking up. “Obi-Wan is a great mentor, as wise as Master Yoda and as powerful as Master Windu. I am truly thankful to be his apprentice. Only…” He hesitated, as if he weren’t sure he should say what he really wanted to.
Padmé nodded reassuringly, and after a moment Anakin went on, “Although I’m a Padawan learner, in some ways—a lot of ways—I’m ahead of him. I’m ready for the trials, I know I am! He knows it, too. But he feels I’m too unpredictable.” He was almost talking to himself now; the words had the sound of something he’d said inside his head many times. “Other Jedi my age have gone through the trials and made it. I know I started my training late, but he won’t let me move on.”
“That must be frustrating,” Padmé said, trying hard to keep from smiling.
“It’s worse,” Anakin burst out. “He’s overly critical. He never listens! He just doesn’t understand. It’s not fair!”
Despite herself, Padmé laughed. Anakin looked at her in surprise, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you sounded exactly like that little boy I once knew…when he didn’t get his way.”
“I’m not whining,” Anakin insisted. “I’m not!”
Still smiling, Padmé shook her head again. “I didn’t say it to hurt you.”
“I know,” Anakin said softly, and she knew that he did.
“Anakin,” she said after a moment’s silence, “don’t try to grow up too fast.”
“I am grown up,” he replied. “You said it yourself.” He looked down into her eyes.
The intensity of his gaze was disturbing. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her like that—not at Senator Amidala or Queen Amidala or the earnest young legislator, but just at Padmé. And he has the deepest eyes…She shook herself. “Please don’t look at me like that,” she said.
Anakin blinked. “Why not?”
“Because I can see what you’re thinking.” She hadn’t meant to say that, straight out.
“Ahh,” Anakin nodded, laughing. “So you have Jedi powers, too?”
Padmé turned away. This ex-slave boy had no business laughing at her. “It makes me feel uncomfortable,” she said stiffly.
“Sorry, M’lady.” Anakin sounded sincere, but Padmé couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still laughing at her. Her lips tightened, and she walked firmly away to finish packing.
Obi-Wan, Captain Typho, and Dormé all went along with Anakin and Padmé to the spaceport freighter docks. Privately, Obi-Wan felt that even that was too many people, but Captain Typho was Padmé’s official security head, and Padmé was worried about her handmaiden, who would be taking her place as “Senator Amidala” in hopes of fooling the assassins, so he hadn’t tried very hard to talk them out of coming. He had, however, insisted that no one but Padmé and Anakin would get off the little transport that carried them to the docks. A Jedi, a Naboo officer in uniform, and “Senator Amidala” would attract far too much attention, and the whole point of sending Padmé by ordinary freighter was to get her away from Coruscant unnoticed.
Anakin and Padmé wore loose peasant clothes of gray and brown. Anakin had bundled his Padawan braid into a knot at the back of his head to make it less obvious. A Jedi Padawan accompanying a young woman on a refugee transport would be unusual enough to cause considerable comment. For the hundredth time, Obi-Wan studied them, and decided again that their disguises would do.
The transport pulled up at the docks at last. While Padmé and Dormé began a rather tearful good-bye, Obi-Wan pulled Anakin aside. Ignoring Anakin’s frown, he repeated the mission instructions, with a little added emphasis. “Anakin, you stay on Naboo. Don’t do anything without first consulting either myself or the Council.”
“Yes, Master,” Anakin said in the tones of someone who’d heard this too many times already.
Obi-Wan sighed, wishing he could believe it. Not that he thought Anakin was lying; he was quite sure his apprentice meant to follow instructions. Anakin always meant well. But Anakin was impulsive, and too sure of himself and his abilities. If he thought there was a need, he might easily forget his promise and jeopardize everything. This is the only way to be sure of Padmé’s safety, Obi-Wan told himself. That last assassin had come too close. Still, he could not shake his feeling of unease.
Padmé finished saying farewell to her handmaiden, and joined them. Her expression was grave. Obi-Wan nodded and said, “I will get to the bottom of this plot quickly, M’lady. You’ll be back here in no time.”
“I will be most grateful for your speed, Master Jedi,” Padmé replied formally.
She’s still angry about leaving Coruscant, Obi-Wan thought. He was almost ready to call the trip off, to look for some other alternative, but Anakin picked up their battered travel cases and said, “Time to go.”
Padmé gave Dormé one last hug, and she and Anakin went to the door of the transport, where R2-D2 waited to accompany them.
“May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin.
“May the Force be with you, Master,” Anakin replied.
Why do I feel as if we’re saying good-bye to each other for the last time? Obi-Wan shook himself. He was doing just what he always scolded Anakin for—focusing on the negative. But as he watched Anakin and Padmé and R2 disappear into the spaceport, he could not help murmuring to Captain Typho, “I hope he doesn’t try anything foolish.”
Captain Typho glanced at Obi-Wan and shook his head. “I’d be more concerned about her doing something than him.”
Well, you don’t know Anakin. On the other hand, some of the things Padmé had done during the Naboo war had been just as risky as anything his apprentice had come up with. Perhaps that was the source of his unease.
They waited in silence until the freighter took off. Obi-Wan even stretched his Jedi abilities to make sure that Anakin and Padmé were on board—he’d almost been afraid that Padmé would talk Ana
kin into letting her stay at the last minute.
As soon as he knew that everything had gone smoothly, Obi-Wan sent the transport back toward the diplomatic section of Coruscant. He let Captain Typho and Dormé off at the Senator’s apartment to continue their dangerous masquerade, and went on to the Jedi Temple. He had promised Padmé he’d finish this investigation quickly, and he wanted to get to work.
The analysis cubicles at the Temple were busy, but he found an empty one. Pulling out the toxic dart that had killed the attempted assassin, he put it on the sensor tray. “I need to know where this came from and who made it,” he told the Analysis Droid.
“One moment, please,” said the droid. It retracted the tray and began its work.
Obi-Wan waited, watching diagrams and data scroll rapidly past on the droid’s display. Then, to his surprise, the screen went blank.
“Markings cannot be identified,” the droid announced. “As you can see on your screen, subject weapon does not exist in any known culture. Probably self-made by a warrior not associated with any known society. Stand away from the sensor tray, please.” The tray slid out, waiting for him to take back the dart.
“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan said. “Could you try again, please?”
“Master Jedi, our records are very thorough,” the droid said. If it were human, Obi-Wan thought it would have sounded miffed at the suggestion that it hadn’t checked everything the first time. “If I can’t tell you where it came from, nobody can.”
Obi-Wan looked at the dart. Nobody can? Hmm. I wonder…“Thank you for your assistance,” he told the droid as he pocketed the dart. He turned away and said, half to himself, “I know who can identify this.”
He could have sworn he heard an incredulous sniff from behind him as he left the analysis cubicle.
At first glance, Dex’s Diner looked like every other low-level eatery in this tough part of town. Shiny maroon booths lined the walls, slick tile covered the floor, and the counter along the wall was edged in shiny chrome. Dex’s was, however, much cleaner and smelled far better than most of the other such places Obi-Wan had been in.
Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones Page 4
