The Phantom Menace (11 page)

Queen Amidala brought up her hand sharply to silence the debate. Turning from her governor and head of security and the Jedi as well, she looked suddenly to her
handmaidens, who were pressed close about her. “Either choice presents great risk to all of us …,” she said softly, looking from face to face.

Qui-Gon watched the exchange, puzzled. What was the Queen seeking?

The handmaidens glanced at one another, faces barely visible within the confines of red and gold hooded robes. All were silent.

Finally, one spoke. “We are brave, Your Highness,” Padmé said firmly.

Alarms continued to sound. “If you are to leave, Your Highness, it must be now,” Qui-Gon urged.

Queen Amidala straightened and nodded. “So be it. I will plead our case before the Senate.” She glanced at Sio Bibble. “Be careful, Governor.”

She took the governor’s hand briefly, then beckoned to three of her handmaidens. Those not chosen began to cry softly. Amidala embraced them and whispered words of encouragement. Captain Panaka selected two of the four guards to stay behind with the handmaidens and Sio Bibble.

The Jedi Knights moved through the side door and into the hangar, leading the way for Jar Jar and the Naboo. “Stay close,” Qui-Gon admonished softly over his shoulder.

Captain Panaka moved next to him, dark face intense. “We need a pilot for the vessel.” He pointed to where a group of Naboo were being held captive in a corner of the hangar by a squad of battle droids. The insignia on their uniforms indicated a mix of guards, mechanics, and pilots. “There.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Obi-Wan declared, and veered toward the Naboo captives.

Qui-Gon and the rest continued on, striding boldly
across the hangar floor, moving directly toward the Queen’s vessel, ignoring the battle droids who moved to intercept them. Qui-Gon took note of the fact that the boarding ramp to the transport was lowered. More battle droids were closing on them, curious without yet being alarmed.

“Don’t stop for anything,” he said to the Queen, and he reached beneath his cloak for the lightsaber.

They were barely twenty meters from the Queen’s transport when the nearest of the battle droids challenged them. “Where are you going?” it asked in its blank, metallic voice.

“Get out of the way,” Qui-Gon ordered. “I am an ambassador for the supreme chancellor, and I am taking these people to Coruscant.”

The droid brought up his weapon quickly, blocking the Jedi Master’s passage. “You are under arrest!”

It was scrap metal within seconds, dissected by Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. More of the battle droids rushed to stop the Jedi, who stood alone against them as his charges boarded the Nubian vessel. Captain Panaka and the Naboo guards formed a protective screen for the Queen and her handmaidens as they hurried up the ramp. Jar Jar Binks clambered after, holding on to his head with his long arms. Laser bolts lanced through the hangar from all directions, and new alarms blared wildly.

On the far side of the hangar, Obi-Wan Kenobi launched himself at the battle droids holding the Naboo pilots hostage, cutting into them with ferocious determination. Qui-Gon watched his progress, long hair flying out as he withstood yet another rush from the battle droids attempting to reclaim the Queen’s transport, blocking their laser bolts as he fought to hold the boarding ramp.
Obi-Wan was running toward him now, a handful of the Naboo in tow. Explosions rose all around them, deadly laser fire burning into metal and flesh. Several of the Naboo went down, but the battle droids were unable to slow the Jedi.

Qui-Gon called sharply to Obi-Wan as he went past, telling him to get the ship in the air. More battle droids were appearing at the hangar doors, weapons firing. Qui-Gon backed quickly up the loading ramp and into the transport’s dimly lit interior. The ramp rose behind him and closed with a soft whoosh.

The Headon-5 engines were firing even before the Jedi Master reached the main cabin and flung himself into a chair. Laser fire hammered at the sides of the sleek craft, but it was already beginning to move forward. The pilot sat hunched forward over the controls, his weathered face intense, a sheen of sweat beading his forehead, hands steady on the controls. “Hold on,” he said.

The Nubian shot through the hangar doors, ripping past battle droids and laser fire, lifting away from the city of Theed into the blue, sunlit sky. The planet of Naboo was left behind in seconds, the ship rising into the darkness of space, arcing toward a suddenly visible cluster of Trade Federation battleships blocking its way.

Qui-Gon left his seat and came forward to stand beside the pilot.

“Ric Olié,” the other announced with a quick glance up at the Jedi. “Thanks for helping out back there.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Better save your thanks until we deal with what’s up here. ”

The pilot gave him a rakish grin. “Copy that. What do we do about these big boys? Our communications are still jammed.”

“We’re past the point of talking. Just keep the ship on
course.” Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. “Make sure everyone is settled safely in place.” His eyes moved to where Jar Jar Binks was already up and poking about.

The younger Jedi moved quickly to take the Gungan in hand, propelling him forcibly through the main cabin door and into the anteway beyond. Ignoring Jar Jar’s protests, he glanced about for somewhere to stash the bothersome creature. Catching sight of a low, cramped entry with the words
ASTROMECH DROIDS
lettered above, he released the retaining latch and shoved the Gungan inside.

“Stay here,” he directed with a meaningful look. “And keep out of trouble.”

Jar Jar Binks watched the door close behind him, then glanced around. A line of five R2 astromech droids stood against one wall, short, dome-topped, all-purpose mechanics painted different colors, their lights off, their engines quiet. Five identical units, each stout body positioned between two sturdy restraint arms, they gave no indication of being aware of him. The Gungan ambled along in front of them, waiting to be noticed. Maybe they weren’t activated, he thought. Maybe they weren’t even alive.

“Heydey ho, yous,” he tried, hands gesturing. “Tis a long trip somewheres, hey?”

No response. Jar Jar tapped the closest R2 unit, a bright red droid, on the head. The tap made a hollow sound, and the head popped up a notch from the cylindrical body.

“Whoa!” Jar Jar said, surprised. He glanced around, wondering why the Jedi had put him down here when everyone else was up there. Nothing much to do down here, he thought disconsolately. Nothing much happening.

Curious, he gripped the red droid’s head and lifted gently. “Dis opens?” he whispered. He lifted some more. Something caught. He yanked hard. “Dis … ooops!”

The head lifted right out of its seating. Springs and wires popped out in a tangled mess. Jar Jar quickly jammed the red droid’s head back into place, easing his three-fingered hands away cautiously.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he murmured, glancing about to make sure no one had seen, hugging himself worriedly.

He moved down the line of droids, still looking for something to occupy his time. He didn’t want to be in this room, but he didn’t think he should try to leave, either. The younger Jedi, the one who had stuck him in here, didn’t like him much as it was. The Jedi would like him a whole lot less if he caught Jar Jar sneaking out of this room.

Explosions sounded close by the transport. Cannon fire. The ship rocked in response to a series of near misses. Jar Jar looked about wildly, suddenly not liking where he was at all. Then the running lights began to flicker, and the transport shook violently. Jar Jar moaned, and crouched down in a corner. More explosions sounded, and the craft was buffeted from side to side.

“We doomed,” the frightened Gungan muttered. “Tis bad business, dis.”

Abruptly the ship began to spin as if caught in a whirlpool. Jar Jar cried out, fastening his arms about a strut to keep from being thrown against the walls. The lights in the compartment all came on, and the droids were abruptly activated. One by one, they began to whir and beep. Released from their restraints, they rolled out of their racks toward an airlock at one end of the compartment—all but the red R2, who rolled directly into a wall and fell over, more parts tumbling out.

The R2 unit painted blue paused as it motored by its red counterpart, then charged past Jar Jar, giving out a loud screech that caused the Gungan to jerk away in fright.

One after another, the four R2 units entered the airlock lift and were sucked up toward the top of the ship.

Left behind in the storage compartment with the droid he had unwittingly sabotaged, Jar Jar Binks moaned in despair.

O
bi-Wan Kenobi had just reentered the transport’s cockpit when explosions began to buffet the ship. He could see a huge Trade Federation battleship looming ahead through the viewport, cannons firing. The Queen’s transport was rocked so violently by the blasts that it was thrown from its trajectory. Ric Olié’s gloved hands were locked onto the steering grips, fighting to bring the slender craft back into line.

“We should abort, sir!” the pilot shouted at Qui-Gon, who was braced at his side, eyes fixed on the battleship. “Our deflector shields can’t withstand much more of this!”

“Stay on course,” the Jedi Master ordered calmly. He glanced down at the controls. “Do you have a cloaking device?”

“This is not a warship!” Captain Panaka snapped, looking angry and betrayed. “We have no weapons, Ambassador! We’re a nonviolent people, which is why the Trade Federation was brave enough to attack us in the first place!”

A series of explosions jarred the Nubian, and the lights on the control panel flickered weakly. An alarm sounded, shrill and angry. The transport shuddered, its power drive stalling momentarily in a high-pitched whine.

“No weapons,” Qui-Gon Jinn breathed. Obi-Wan was next to him, feeling the weight of the other’s gaze as it shifted to find him, steady and unwavering. One hand settled on Ric Olié’s shoulder. “The Trade Federation uses pulser tracking for its weapons. Spin the ship. It will make it difficult for them to get a reading on us.”

The pilot nodded, flipped a series of levers, and put the Nubian into a slow spin. Ahead, the battleship filled the viewport, then lost focus. The Queen’s transport accelerated, racing toward the enemy craft, whipping past towers and gunports, bays and stabilizers, speeding down an alleyway of jagged metal protrusions and cannon fire. A laser bolt hammered into them, causing sparks and smoke to explode from one panel, sending the ship reeling. For a brief moment they were tumbling out of control. Then Ric Olié pulled back hard on the controls, and the hull of the battleship receded.

“Something’s wrong,” the pilot announced quietly, fighting the steering, feeling the ship shudder beneath. “Shields are down!”

They continued to spin, to hug the cavernous shell of the Trade Federation battleship, so close that the larger guns were rendered useless and only the smaller could chance firing at them. But without shields even a glancing hit could be disastrous.

“Sending out the repair crew!” Olié shouted, and flipped a lever.

On the viewscreen, an airlock snapped open, and one by one a series of astromech droids popped out of the
hatch and onto the transport’s hull. The transport straightened and leveled out, and the spinning stopped. The droids motored swiftly across the hull, seeking out the damage as Ric Olié hugged the battleship’s shadow in an effort to protect them.

But now there was a new threat. Unable to bring the weapons of their warship to bear in an effective manner, the Trade Federation command dispatched a squad of starfighters. Small, sleek, robot attack ships, they consisted of twin compartments attached to a rounded, swept-back head. As they roared out of the battleship bays, their compartments opened into long slits that exposed their laser guns. Down the length of the mother ship they tore, seeking out the Queen’s transport. Fast and maneuverable, they had no trouble working close to the battleship’s hull. In seconds, they were on top of the transport, weapons firing. Ric Olié struggled to find cover and gain speed. Two of the R2 units were blown away, one on a direct hit, the second when its hold on the transport hull was shattered.

On the viewscreen, the blue R2 unit could be seen working furiously to connect a series of wires exposed by a damaged hull plate. Laser fire lanced all around it, but it continued its effort without stopping. The fourth droid, working close by, disappeared in a cloud of shattered metal and brilliant fire.

Now only the blue unit remained, still busy amid the onslaught of Trade Federation starfighters. Something changed on the cockpit display, and Ric Olié gave a shout of approval. “The shields are up! That little droid did it!” He jammed the thrusters all the way forward, and the transport rocketed away from both the battleship and the starfighters, leaving the Trade Federation blockade and the planet of Naboo behind.

The lone R2 unit turned and motored back into the airlock and disappeared from view.

When they were well away from any Trade Federation presence, Ric Olié made a thorough check of the controls, assessing their damage, trying to determine what was needed. Obi-Wan sat next to him in the copilot’s seat, lending help. Qui-Gon and Captain Panaka stood behind them, awaiting their report. The Queen and the rest of the Naboo had been secured in other chambers.