The Phantom Menace (22 page)

Obi-Wan gave him a hard, steady look, then turned away.

On a rise overlooking the spacecraft, hidden in the glare of the suns and the ripple of the dunes, the Sith probe droid hung motionless for a final transmission, then quickly sped away.

Anakin walked home with his mother and C-3PO, still wrapped in the euphoria of his victory, but wrestling as well with his sadness over the departure of Padmé. He hadn’t thought about what would happen to her if he won the Boonta Eve, that it would mean Qui-Gon would secure the hyperdrive generator he needed to make their transport functional. So when she bent to kiss and hug him good-bye, it was the first time he had given the matter any serious thought since her arrival. He was
stunned, caught in a mix of emotions, and all of a sudden he wanted to tell her to stay. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words, knowing how foolish they would sound, realizing she couldn’t do so in any case.

So he stood there like a droid without its vocoder, watching her ride away behind Qui-Gon, thinking it might well be the last time he would ever see her, and wondering how he was going to live with himself if it was.

Unable to sit still once he had walked his mother to their home, he placed C-3PO back in his bedroom, deactivated him, and went out again. Qui-Gon had told him he was relieved of any work today at Watto’s, so he pretty much could do what he wanted until the Jedi returned. He gave no thought to what would happen then, wandering down toward Mos Espa Way, waving as his name was shouted out from every quarter on his journey, basking in the glow of his success. He still couldn’t quite believe it, and yet it felt as if he had always known he would win this race. Kitster appeared, then Amee and Wald, and soon he was surrounded by a dozen others.

He was just approaching the connector to Mos Espa Way when a Rodian youngster, bigger than himself, blocked his way. Anakin had cheated, the Rodian sneered. He couldn’t have won the Boonta Eve any other way. No slave could win anything.

Anakin was on top of him so fast the bigger being barely had time to put up his arms in defense before he was on the ground. Anakin was hitting him as hard and fast as he could, not thinking about anything but how angry he was, not even aware that the source of his anger had nothing to do with his victim and everything to do with losing Padmé.

Then Qui-Gon, returned by now with the eopies, was
looming over him. He pulled Anakin away, separating the two fighters, and demanded to know what this was all about. Somewhat sheepishly, but still angry, Anakin told him. Qui-Gon studied him carefully, disappointment registering on his broad features. He fixed the young Rodian with his gaze and asked him if he still believed Anakin had cheated. The youngster, glowering at Anakin, said he did.

Qui-Gon put his hand on Anakin’s shoulder and steered him away from the crowd, not saying anything until they were out of hearing.

“You know, Annie,” he said then, his deep voice thoughtful, “fighting didn’t change his opinion. The opinions of others, whether you agree with them or not, are something you have to learn to tolerate.”

He walked the boy back toward his home, counseling him quietly about the way life worked, hand resting on his shoulder in a way that made Anakin feel comforted. As they neared the boy’s home, the Jedi reached beneath his poncho and produced a leather pouch filled with credits.

“These are yours,” he announced. “I sold the Pod.” He pursed his lips. “To a particularly surly and rather insistent Dug.”

Anakin accepted the bag, grinning broadly, the fight and its cause forgotten.

He ran up the steps to his door and burst through, Qui-Gon following silently. “Mom, Mom!” he cried out as she appeared to greet him. “Guess what! Qui-Gon sold the Pod! Look at all the money we have!”

He produced the leather pouch and dropped it into her hands, enjoying the startled look on her face. “Oh, my goodness!” she breathed softly, staring down at the bulging pouch. “Annie, that’s wonderful!”

Her eyes lifted quickly to meet Qui-Gon’s. The Jedi stepped forward, holding her gaze.

“Annie has been freed,” he said.

The boy’s eyes went wide. “What?”

Qui-Gon glanced down at him. “You are no longer a slave.”

Shmi Skywalker stared at the Jedi in disbelief, her worn face rigid, her eyes mirroring her shock and disbelief.

“Mom? Did you hear that, Mom?” Anakin let out a whoop and jumped as high as he could manage. It wasn’t possible! But he knew it was true, knew that it really was!

He managed to collect himself. “Was that part of the prize, or what?” he asked, grinning.

Qui-Gon grinned back. “Let’s just say Watto learned an important lesson about gambling.”

Shmi Skywalker was shaking her head, still stunned by the news, still working it through. But the sight of Anakin’s face made everything come clear for her in an instant. She reached out to him and pressed him to her.

“Now you can make your dreams come true, Annie,” she whispered, her face radiant as she touched his cheek. “You’re free.”

She released him and turned to Qui-Gon, her eyes bright and expectant. “Will you take him with you? Is he to become a Jedi?”

Anakin beamed at the suggestion, wheeling quickly on Qui-Gon, waiting for his answer.

The Jedi Master hesitated. “Our meeting was not a coincidence. Nothing happens by accident. You are strong with the Force, Annie, but you may not be accepted by the Council.”

Anakin heard what he wanted to hear, blocking away everything else, seeing the possibilities that had fueled
his hopes and dreams for so long come alive in a single moment.

“A Jedi!” he gasped. “You mean I get to go with you in your starship and everything!”

And be with Padmé again! The thought struck him like a thunderbolt, wrapping him in such expectancy that it was all he could do to listen to what the Jedi Master said next.

Qui-Gon knelt before the boy, his face somber. “Anakin, training to be a Jedi will not be easy. It will be a challenge. And if you succeed, it will be a hard life.”

Anakin shook his head quickly. “But it’s what I want! It’s what I’ve always dreamed about!” He looked quickly to his mother. “Can I go, Mom?”

But Qui-Gon drew him back with a touch. “This path has been placed before you, Annie. The choice to take it must be yours alone.”

The man and the boy stared at each other. A mix of emotions roiled through Anakin, threatening to sweep him away, but at their forefront was the happiness he felt at finding the thing he wanted most in all the world within reach—to be a Jedi, to journey down the space lanes of the galaxy.

He glanced quickly at his mother, at her worn, accepting face, seeing in her eyes that in this, as in all things, she wanted what was best for him.

His gaze returned to Qui-Gon. “I want to go,” he said.

“Then pack your things,” the Jedi Master advised. “We haven’t much time.”

“Yippee!” the boy shouted, jumping up and down, anxious already to be on his way. He rushed to his mother and hugged her as hard as he could manage, then broke away for his bedroom.

He was almost to the doorway when he realized he
had forgotten something. A chill swept through him as he wheeled back to Qui-Gon. “What about Mom?” he asked hurriedly, eyes darting from one to the other. “Is she free, too? You’re coming, aren’t you, Mom?”

Qui-Gon and his mother exchanged a worried glance, and he knew the answer before the Jedi spoke the words. “I tried to free your mother, Annie, but Watto wouldn’t have it. Slaves give status and lend prestige to their owners here on Tatooine.”

The boy felt his chest and throat tighten. “But the money from selling …”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “It’s not nearly enough.”

There was a hushed silence, and then Shmi Skywalker came to her son and sat down in a chair next to him, taking both of his hands in hers and drawing him close. Her eyes were steady as she looked into his.

“Annie, my place is here,” she said quietly. “My future is here. It is time for you to let go … to let go of me. I cannot go with you.”

The boy swallowed hard. “I want to stay with you, then. I don’t want things to change.”

She gave him an encouraging smile, her brow knitting. “You can’t stop change any more than you can stop the suns from setting. Listen to your feelings, Annie. You know what’s right.”

Anakin Skywalker took a long, slow breath and dropped his gaze, his head lowering. Everything was coming apart inside, all the happiness melting away, all the expectancy fading. But then he felt his mother’s hands tighten over his own, and in her touch he found the strength he needed to do what he knew he must.

Nevertheless, his eyes were brimming as he lifted his gaze once more. “I’m going to miss you so much, Mom,” he whispered.

His mother nodded. “I love you, Annie.” She released his hands. “Now, hurry.”

Anakin gave her a quick, hard hug, and raced from the room, tears streaking his face.

Once within his own room, Anakin stood staring about in sudden bewilderment. He was leaving, and he did not know when he would be coming back. He had never been anywhere but here, never known anyone but the people of Mos Espa and those who came to trade with them. He had dreamed about other worlds and other lives, about becoming a pilot of a mainline ship, and about becoming a Jedi. But the impact of what it actually meant to be standing at the threshold of an embarkation to the life he had so often wished for was overwhelming.

He found himself thinking of the old spacer, telling him that he wouldn’t be surprised at all if Anakin Skywalker became something more than a slave. He had wanted that more than anything, had hoped with all his heart for it to happen.

But he had never, ever considered the possibility he would have to leave his mother behind.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, fighting back new ones, hearing his mother’s and Qui-Gon’s voices from the other room.

“Thank you,” his mother was saying softly.

“I will watch after him. You have my word.” The Jedi’s deep voice was warm and reassuring. “Will you be all right?”

Anakin couldn’t hear her reply. But then she said, “He was in my life for such a short time …”

She trailed off, distracted. Anakin forced himself to quit listening, and he began pulling clothes out and stuffing
them into a backpack. He didn’t have much, and it didn’t take him long. He looked about for anything of importance he might have missed, and his eyes settled on C-3PO, sitting motionless on the workbench. He walked over to the protocol droid and switched him on. C-3PO cocked his head and looked at the boy blankly.

“Well, Threepio, I’m leaving,” Anakin said solemnly. “I’m free. I’m going away, in a starship …”

He didn’t know what else to say. The droid cocked his head. “Well, Master Anakin, you are my maker, and I wish you well. Although I’d like it better if I were a little less naked.”

The boy sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to finish you, Threepio—to give you coverings and all. I’m going to miss working on you. You’ve been a great pal. I’ll make sure Mom doesn’t sell you or anything. Bye!”

He snatched up his backpack and rushed from the room, hearing C-3PO call after him plaintively, “Sell me?”

He said good-bye to his mother, braver now, more determined, and walked out the door with Qui-Gon, his course of action settled. He had gotten barely a dozen meters from his home when Kitster, who had trailed them back from the fight, came rushing up to him.

“Where are you going, Annie?” his friend asked doubtfully.

Anakin took a deep breath. “I’ve been freed, Kitster. I’m going away with Qui-Gon. On a spaceship.”

Kitster’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened in a silent exclamation. Anakin fished in his pockets and came out with a handful of credits, which he shoved at his friend. “Here. These are for you.”

Kitster’s dark face looked down at the credits, then
back up at Anakin. “Do you have to go, Annie? Do you have to? Can’t you stay? Annie, you’re a hero!”

Anakin swallowed hard. “I …” He glanced past Kitster to his mother, still standing in the doorway looking after him, then down to where Qui-Gon was waiting. He shook his head. “I can’t.”

Kitster nodded. “Well.”

“Well,” Anakin repeated, looking at him.

“Thanks for everything, Annie,” the other boy said. There were tears in his eyes as he accepted the credits. “You’re my best friend.”

Anakin bit his lip. “I won’t forget.”

He hugged Kitster impulsively, then broke away and raced toward Qui-Gon. But before he reached him, he glanced back one more time at his mother. Seeing her standing in the doorway brought him about. He stood there momentarily, undecided, conflicting emotions tearing at him. Then his already shaky resolve collapsed altogether, and he raced back to her. By the time he reached her, he was crying freely.

“I can’t do it, Mom,” he whispered, clinging to her. “I just can’t!”

He was shaking, wracked with sobs, disintegrating inside so quickly that all he could think about was holding on to her. Shmi let him do so for a moment, comforting him with her warmth, then backed him away.

She knelt before him, her worn face solemn. “Annie, remember when you climbed that dune in order to chase the banthas away so they wouldn’t be shot? You were only five. Remember how you collapsed several times in the heat, exhausted, thinking you couldn’t do it, that it was too hard?”

Anakin nodded, his face streaked with tears.

Shmi held his gaze. “This is one of those times when
you have to do something you don’t think you can do. But I know how strong you are, Annie. I know you can do this.”

The boy swallowed his tears, thinking she was wrong, he was not strong at all, but knowing, too, she had decided he must go, even if he found it hard, even if he resisted.

“Will I ever see you again?” he asked in desperation, giving voice to the worst of his fears.

“What does your heart tell you?” she asked quietly.

Anakin shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know. Yes, I guess.”

His mother nodded. “Then it will happen, Annie.”

Anakin took a deep breath to steady himself. He had stopped crying now, and he wiped the dampness of his tears from his face.