The Phantom Menace (28 page)

Panaka snapped to attention. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Ready my ship.”

Palpatine stepped forward quickly to intercept her. “Please, Your Majesty. Stay here, where it is safe.”

Amidala’s voice was edged with iron. “No place is safe, if the Senate doesn’t condemn this invasion. It is clear to me now that the Republic no longer functions.” Her eyes locked on his. “If you win the election, Senator, I know you will do everything possible to stop the Federation. I pray you will find a way to restore sanity and compassion to the Republic.”

She moved past him in a smooth, gliding motion and was out the door, her handmaidens and Panaka at her heels. Jar Jar Binks followed, shuffling after as unobtrusively as he could manage, glancing just once at Palpatine in passing.

He was surprised to catch the barest glimpse of a smile on the senator’s shrewd face.

In the Temple of the Jedi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin Skywalker stood before the Council of twelve. Clustered together at the center of the speaker’s platform, they faced the circle of chairs in which the members of the Council were seated, and awaited their decision on the boy. Outside, the light was pale and wan as twilight replaced sunset, and night began its slow descent across the city.

“Finished, we are, with our examination of the boy,” Yoda advised in his guttural, whispery voice. His eyes were lidded and sleepy, his pointed ears pricked forward. “Correct, you were, Qui-Gon.”

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 mind, 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.

A
board 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?