The Phantom Menace (37 page)

He stopped his pacing and stared momentarily at nothing, thinking of Qui-Gon Jinn, his Master, his teacher, his friend. He had failed Qui-Gon in life. But he would carry on his work now, honoring him in death by fulfilling his promise to train the boy, no matter what.

Listen to me, he thought, smiling ruefully. I sound like him.

The door opened, and Yoda appeared. He entered the room in a slow shuffle, leaning on his walking stick, his wizened face sleepy-eyed and contemplative.

“Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan greeted, hurrying forward to meet him, bowing deferentially.

The Jedi Master nodded. “Confer on you the level of Jedi Knight, the Council does. Decided about the boy, the Council is, Obi-Wan,” he advised solemnly.

“He is to be trained?”

The big ears cocked forward, and the lids to those sleepy eyes widened. “So impatient, you are. So sure of what has been decided?”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue and kept his silence, waiting dutifully on the other. Yoda studied him carefully. “A great warrior, was Qui-Gon Jinn,” he gargled softly, his strange voice sad. “But so much more he could have been, if not so fast he had run. More slowly, you must proceed, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan stood his ground. “He understood what the rest of us did not about the boy.”

But Yoda shook his head. “Be not so quick to judge. Not everything, is understanding. Not all at once, is it revealed. Years, it takes, to become a Jedi Knight. Years more, to become one with the Force.”

He moved over to a place where the fading light shone in through a window, soft and golden. Sunset approached, the appointed time for their farewell to Qui-Gon.

Yoda’s gaze was distant when he spoke. “Decided, the Council is,” he repeated. “Trained, the boy shall be.”

Obi-Wan felt a surge of relief and joy flood through him, and a grateful smile escaped him.

Yoda saw the smile. “Pleased, you are? So certain this is right?” The wrinkled face tightened. “Clouded, this boy’s future remains, Obi-Wan. A mistake to train him, it is.”

“But the Council—”

“Yes, decided.” The sleepy eyes lifted. “Disagree with that decision, I must.”

There was a long silence as the two faced each other, listening to the sounds of the funeral preparations taking place without. Obi-Wan did not know what to say. Clearly the Council had decided against the advice of Yoda. That in itself was unusual. That the Jedi Master chose to make a point of it here emphasized the extent of his concerns about Anakin Skywalker.

Obi-Wan spoke carefully. “I will take this boy as my Padawan, Master. I will train him in the best way I can. But I will bear in mind what you have told me here. I will go carefully. I will heed your warnings. I will keep close watch over his progress.”

Yoda studied him a moment, then nodded. “Your promise, then, remember well, young Jedi,” he said softly. “Sufficient, it is, if you do.”

Obi-Wan bowed in acknowledgment. “I will remember.”

Together, they went out into a blaze of light.

The funeral pyre was lit, the fire building steadily around the body of Qui-Gon Jinn, the flames slowly beginning to envelop and consume him. Those who had been chosen to honor him encircled the pyre. Queen Amidala stood with her handmaidens, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, Governor Sio Bibble, Captain Panaka, and an honor guard of one hundred Naboo soldiers. Boss Nass, Jar Jar Binks, and twenty Gungan warriors stood across from them. Linking them together were the members of the Jedi Council, including Yoda and Mace Windu. Another clutch of Jedi Knights, those who had known Qui-Gon longest and best, completed the circle.

Anakin Skywalker stood with Obi-Wan, his young face intense as he fought to hold back his tears.

A long, sustained drum roll traced the passage of the flames as they reduced Qui-Gon to spirit and ash. When the fire had taken him away, a flight of snowy doves was released into a crimson sunset. The birds rose in a flutter of wings and a splash of pale brilliance, winging swiftly away.

Obi-Wan found himself remembering. For his entire life, he had studied under the Jedi, and Qui-Gon Jinn, in particular. Now Qui-Gon was gone, and Obi-Wan had passed out of an old life and into a new. Now he was a Jedi Knight, not a Padawan. Everything that had gone before was behind a door that had closed on him forever. It was hard to accept, and at the same time, it gave him an odd sense of release.

He looked down at Anakin. The boy was staring at the ashes of the funeral bier, crying softly.

He put his hand on one slim shoulder. “He is one with the Force, Anakin. You must let him go.”

The boy shook his head. “I miss him.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I miss him, too. And I will remember him always. But he is gone.”

Anakin wiped the tears from his face. “What will happen to me now?”

The hand tightened on the boy’s shoulder. “I will train you, just as Qui-Gon would have done,” Obi-Wan Kenobi said softly. “I am your new Master, Anakin. You will study with me, and you will become a Jedi Knight, I promise you.”

The boy straightened, a barely perceptible act. Obi-Wan nodded to himself. Somewhere, he thought, Qui-Gon Jinn would be smiling.

Across the way, Mace Windu stood with Yoda, his strong dark face contemplative as he watched Obi-Wan put his hand on Anakin Skywalker’s shoulder.

“One life ends and a new one begins in the Jedi order,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Yoda hunched forward, leaning on his gnarled staff, and shook his head. “Not so sure of this one as of Qui-Gon, do I feel. Troubled, he is. Wrapped in shadows and difficult choices.”

Mace Windu nodded. He knew Yoda’s feelings on the matter, but the Council had made its decision. “Obi-Wan will do a good job with him,” he said, shifting the subject. “Qui-Gon was right. He is ready.”

They knew of what the young Padawan had done to save himself from the Sith Lord in the melting pit after Qui-Gon had been struck down. It took an act of extraordinary courage and strength of will. Only a Jedi Knight fully in tune with the Force could have saved
himself against such an adversary. Obi-Wan Kenobi had proved himself beyond everyone’s expectations that day.

“Ready this time, he was,” Yoda acknowledged grudgingly. “Ready to train the boy, he may not be.”

“Defeating a Sith Lord in combat is a strong test of his readiness for anything,” the Council leader pressed. His eyes stayed with Obi-Wan and Anakin. “There is no doubt. The one who tested him was a Sith.”

Yoda’s sleepy eyes blinked. “Always two there are. No more, no less. A master and an apprentice.”

Mace Windu nodded. “Then which one was destroyed, do you think—the master or the apprentice?”

They looked at each other now, but neither could provide an answer to the question.

That night Darth Sidious stood alone on a balcony overlooking the city, a shadowy figure amid the multitude of twinkling lights, his visage dark and angry as he contemplated the loss of his apprentice. Years of training had gone into the preparation of Darth Maul as a Sith Lord. He had been more than the equal of the Jedi Knights he had faced and should have been able to defeat them easily. It was bad luck and chance that had led to his death, a combination that even the power of the dark side could not always overcome.

Not in the short run, at least.

His brow furrowed. It would be necessary to replace Darth Maul. He would need to train another apprentice. Such a one would not be easy to find.

Darth Sidious walked to the railing and put his hands on the cool metal. One thing was certain. Those responsible for killing Darth Maul would be held accountable. Those who had opposed him would not be forgotten. All would be made to pay.

His eyes glittered. Still, he had gotten what he wanted most from this business. Even the loss of Darth Maul was worth that. He would bide his time. He would wait for his chance. He would lay the groundwork for what was needed.

A smile played across his thin lips. A day of reckoning would come about soon enough.

There was a grand parade the following day to publicly recognize the newfound alliance of the Naboo and Gungan peoples, to celebrate their hard-fought victory over the Trade Federation invaders, and to honor those who had fought to secure the planet’s freedom. Crowds lined the streets of Theed as columns of Gungan warriors astride kaadu and Naboo soldiers aboard speeders rode through the city to the sounds of cheering and singing. Fambaa lumbered down the avenues, draped in rich silks and embroidered harnesses, heads weaving from side to side on long necks. Here and there, a captured Federation tank hovered amidst the marchers, Naboo and Gungan flags flying from cannons and hatchways. Jar Jar Binks and General Ceel led the Gungans, both riding their kaadu, Jar Jar managing to stay aboard this time for the entire parade, though he looked to those in attendance to be having a bit of trouble doing so.

Captain Panaka and the Queen’s own guards stood at the top of the stone steps in the central plaza, watching the parade approach. Panaka’s uniform was creased, metal insignia on his epaulets gleaming, proud and strong.

Anakin Skywalker stood with Obi-Wan Kenobi near the Queen. He was feeling out of place and embarrassed. He thought the parade wonderful, and he appreciated being honored with the others, but his mind was elsewhere.

It was with Qui-Gon, gone back into the Force.

It was with Padmé, who had barely spoken to him since he had been accepted for training by the Jedi Council.

It was with his home, to which he might never return.

It was with his mother, whom he wished could see him now.

He wore the clothing of a Jedi Padawan, his hair cut short in the Padawan style, a student in training to become a Knight of the order. He had achieved all that he had hoped in coming with Qui-Gon to Coruscant and beyond. He should have been happy and satisfied, and he was. But his happiness and satisfaction were clouded by the sadness he could not banish at losing Qui-Gon and his mother both. They were lost to him in different ways, to be sure, but they were gone out of his life. Qui-Gon had provided the stability he required to leave his mother behind. With the Jedi Master’s death, Anakin was left adrift. There was no one who could give him the grounding that Qui-Gon had provided—not Obi-Wan, not even Padmé. One day, perhaps. One day, each of them would play a part in his life that would change him forever. He could sense that. But for now, when it mattered most, he felt all alone.

So he smiled, but he was sick in spirit and lost in his heart.

Perhaps sensing his discomfort, Obi-Wan reached over to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s the beginning of a new life for you, Anakin,” he ventured.

The boy smiled back dutifully, but said nothing.

Obi-Wan looked off at the crowds in front of them. “Qui-Gon always disdained celebrations. But he understood the need for them, as well. I wonder what he would have made of this one.”

Anakin shrugged.

The Jedi smiled. “He would have been proud to see you a part of it.”

The boy looked at him. “Do you think so?”

“I do. Your mother would be proud of you as well.”

Anakin’s mouth tightened, and he looked away. “I wish she was here. I miss her.”

The Jedi’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “One day you will see her again. But when you do, you will be a Jedi Knight.”

The parade wound through the central plaza to where the Queen and her guests viewed the procession. She stood with her handmaidens, Governor Sio Bibble, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, Boss Nass of the Gungans, and the twelve members of the Jedi Council. R2-D2 occupied a space just below the handmaidens and next to Anakin and Obi-Wan, domed head swiveling from side to side, lights blinking as his sensors took everything in.

R2 beeped at the boy, and Anakin touched the little droid’s shell gently.

Boss Nass stepped forward and held the Globe of Peace high over his head. “Dis grand party!” an exuberant Jar Jar shouted above the noise of cheering and clapping. “Gungans and Naboo, dey be friends forever, hey?”

His enthusiasm made Anakin smile in spite of himself. The Gungan was dancing up and down, long ears flapping, gangly limbs twisting this way and that as he mounted the steps. Jar Jar would never let the bad things in life get him down, the boy thought. Maybe there was a lesson to be learned in that.

“We bombad heroes, Annie!” Jar Jar laughed, lifting his arms over his head and showing all his teeth.

The boy laughed. He guessed maybe they were.

On the broad avenue below, in a long, colorful ribbon of life, the parade that had carried them to this place and time continued on.

A CONVERSATION WITH
TERRY BROOKS

Del Rey:
A lot of people were surprised to learn that Terry Brooks would be doing the novelization of
The Phantom Menace
.
You’re known as a fantasy writer, while
Star Wars
,
as we all know, is science fiction. What convinced George Lucas that you were the right man for the job?

Terry Brooks: It’s hard to know exactly why George selected me for the work on adapting
TPM
. It wasn’t something we discussed. He did say he was very familiar with my work, and I’m sure as well that he held some discussions with the people at Del Rey Books. Also, our connection goes all the way back to 1977, when both
Star Wars
and
Sword of Shannara
were published under the guidance of Del Rey editor in chief Judy-Lynn del Rey. Judy-Lynn believed strongly in both projects, and she used to talk to me about
Star Wars
and George and to George about
Sword
and me. Perhaps something of that carried over. I would add that Judy-Lynn and her husband, Lester, placed a high premium on storytelling. I think they found solid storytelling components in both
Sword
and
Star Wars
, and that was what attracted Judy-Lynn to both. As for my writing science fiction, I asked George about that as well. He said, “Don’t worry, I don’t make science fiction movies.” He views
Star Wars
, as I do, as adventure storytelling. I agreed with him. I write adventure stories, so the transition was pretty easy.