The Phantom Menace (25 page)

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 gown 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.”

Amidala did not seem convinced. “Valorum has been our strongest supporter. Is there no other way?”

Palpatine stood before her. “Our only other choice would be to submit the matter to the courts—”

“There is no time for that,” the Queen interrupted quickly, a hint of anger in her voice. “The courts take even longer to decide things than the Senate.” She shifted purposefully, an edge sharpening her words further. “Our people are dying—more and more each day. We must do something quickly. We must stop the Trade Federation before this gets any worse.”

Palpatine gave Amidala a stern look. “To be realistic about the matter, Your Highness, I believe we are going to have to accept Trade Federation control as an accomplished fact—for the time being, at least.”

The Queen shook her head slowly. “That is something I cannot do, Senator.”

They faced each other in the silence that followed, eyes locked, and Anakin Skywalker, hiding behind the door without, found himself wondering suddenly what had become of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Unlike other buildings in the vast sprawl of Coruscant, the Jedi Temple stood alone. A colossal pyramid with multiple spires rising skyward from its flat top, it sat apart from everything at the end of a broad promenade linking it with bulkier, sharper-edged towers in which solitude and mediation were less likely to be found. Within the Temple were housed the Jedi Knights and their students, the whole of the order engaged in contemplation and study of the Force, in codification of its dictates and mastery of its disciplines, and in training to serve the greater good it embodied.

The Jedi Council room dominated a central portion of the complex. The Council itself was in session, its doors closed, its proceedings hidden from the eyes and ears of all but fourteen people. Twelve of them—some human, some nonhuman—comprised the Council, a diverse and
seasoned group who had gravitated to the order from both ends of the galaxy. The final two Jedi, who were guests of the Council this afternoon, were Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The seats of the twelve Council members formed a circle facing inward to where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood, the former relating the events of the past few weeks, the latter a step behind his Master, listening attentively. The room was circular and domed, supported by graceful pillars spaced between broad windows open to the city and the light. The shape of the room and the Council seating reflected the Jedi belief in the equality of and interconnection between all things. In the world of the Jedi, the balance of life within the Force was the pathway to understanding and peace.

Qui-Gon studied the faces of his listeners as he spoke, each of them familiar to him. Most were Jedi Masters like himself, among them Yoda and Mace Windu, seniors in rank among those seated. They were more compliant in the ways of the Jedi order than he had ever been or would probably ever be.

He stood apart in the mosaic circle that formed a speaker’s platform for those who addressed the Council, his tall, broad form and deep voice commanding the attention of those gathered, his blue eyes fixing them each in turn, constantly searching for a reaction to his words. They watched him carefully—stately Ki-Adi-Mundi, young and beautiful Adi Gallia, slender Depa Billaba, crested and marble-faced Even Piell, and all the others, each different and unique in appearance, each with something vital to offer as a representative of the Council.

Qui-Gon brought his eyes back to Mace Windu and
Yoda, the ones he must convince, the ones most respected and powerful of those who sat in judgment.

“My conclusion,” he finished quietly, his story completed, “is that the one who attacked me on Tatooine is a Sith Lord.”

The silence that followed was palpable. Then there was a stirring of brown robes, a shifting of bodies and limbs. Glances were exchanged and murmurs of disbelief quickly voiced.

“A Sith Lord?” Mace Windu repeated with a growl, leaning forward. He was a strong, dark-skinned man with a shaved head and penetrating eyes, smooth-faced despite his years.

“Impossible!” Ki-Adi-Mundi snapped irritably, not bothering to hide his dismay at the suggestion. “The Sith have been gone for a millennium!”

Yoda shifted only slightly in his chair, a small and wizened presence in the company of much larger beings, his eyes gone to slits like a contented sand panther’s, his whiskery wrinkled face turned toward Qui-Gon’s thoughtfully.

“Threatened, the Republic is, if the Sith are involved,” he observed in his soft, gravelly voice.

The others began to mutter anew among themselves. Qui-Gon said nothing, waiting them out. They had believed the Sith destroyed. They had believed them consumed by their own lust for power. He could feel Obi-Wan shift uncomfortably at his shoulder, having trouble maintaining his silence.

Mace Windu leaned back heavily, his strong brow furrowing. “This is difficult to accept, Qui-Gon. I do not understand how the Sith could have returned without us knowing.”

“Hard to see, the dark side is,” Yoda said with a small snort. “Discover who this assassin is, we must.”

“Perhaps he will reveal himself again,” Ki-Adi-Mundi suggested with a nod to Qui-Gon.

“Yes,” Mace Windu agreed. “This attack was with purpose, that much is clear. The Queen is his target. Since he failed once, he may try again.”

Yoda lifted one skinny arm, pointing at Qui-Gon. “With this Naboo Queen, you must stay, Qui-Gon. Protect her, you must.”

The others murmured their approval, evidencing the confidence they felt in the Jedi Master’s abilities. Still Qui-Gon said nothing.

“We shall use all our resources to unravel this mystery and discover the identity of your attacker,” Mace Windu advised. One hand lifted in dismissal. “May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“May the Force be with you,” Yoda echoed.

Obi-Wan turned to leave. He stopped when Qui-Gon did not follow, but instead remained standing before the Council. Obi-Wan held his breath, knowing what was coming.

Yoda cocked his head questioningly. “More to say, have you, Qui-Gon Jinn?”

“With your permission, my Master,” the Jedi replied, gaze steady. “I have encountered a vergence in the Force.”

Yoda’s eyes widened slightly. “A vergence, you say?”

“Located around a person?” Mace Windu asked quickly.

Qui-Gon nodded. “A boy. His cells have the highest concentration of midi-chlorians I have ever seen in a lifeform.” He paused. “It is possible he was conceived by midi-chlorians.”

There was a shocked silence this time. Qui-Gon Jinn was suggesting the impossible, that the boy was conceived not by human contact, but by the essence of all life, by the connectors to the Force itself, the midi-chlorians. Comprising collective consciousness and intelligence, the midi-chlorians formed the link between everything living and the Force.

But there was more that troubled the Jedi Council. There was a prophecy, so old its origins had long since been lost, that a chosen one would appear, imbued with an abundance of midi-chlorians, a being strong with the Force and destined to alter it forever.

It was Mace Windu who gave voice to the Council’s thoughts. “You refer to the prophecy,” he said quietly. “Of the one who will bring balance to the Force. You believe it is this boy.”

Qui-Gon hesitated. “I don’t presume—”

“But you do!” Yoda snapped challengingly. “Revealed, your opinion is, Qui-Gon!”

The Jedi Master took a deep breath. “I request the boy be tested.”

Again, there was silence as the members of the Council exchanged glances, communicating without words.

Eyes shifted back to Qui-Gon. “To be trained as a Jedi, you request for him?” Yoda asked softly.

“Finding him was the will of the Force.” Qui-Gon pressed ahead recklessly. “I have no doubt of it. There is too much happening here for it to be anything else.”

Mace Windu held up one hand, bringing the debate to a close. “Bring him before us, then.”

Yoda nodded somberly, eyes closing. “Tested, he will be.”