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| - Later that afternoon Qui-Gon, Padmé and Danta helped Anakin move his podracer from its hiding place. Watto had dismissed Anakin earlier, telling him to go home and clean up his racer, lest he be a laughing stock. Padmé studied the podracer carefully, it looked rather like a strangely shaped landspeeder tethered to two massive cylindrical engines that wouldn’t look out of place on a starfighter. “What do you think?” Anakin asked with a grin. She was trying to think of an appropriate response when Anakin noticed Danta fiddling with one of the engines. “Don’t stick your hand in there, Danta,” Anakin said quickly, moving the Gungan’s hands well away from harm. “You might lose it,” he added with a grin. Artoo-Detoo made his own comment as he trundled past, rotating his dome rather quizzically as Anakin engaged Danta in removing the bugs which had attached themselves to the steel cables. Qui-Gon watched all this from a step outside the Skywalker’s home. Then, seeing that he was unobserved, he made a quick call to Obi-Wan. His apprentice answered promptly and Qui-Gon outlined what had happened. “If all goes well,” the Jedi Master concluded smoothly, “we will have the hyperdrive generator by tomorrow and be on our way.” Obi-Wan wasn’t so optimistic. “And what if this plan fails, Master?” he asked. “We could be stuck here for a very long time.” “We have no choice,” he reminded the Padawan. “A ship without a power supply will not get us anywhere.” He closed down the comlink as Shmi Skywalker emerged from the dwelling and stood next to him. The two exchanged a secret smile as they watched Anakin prepare his podracer. He had even gotten Padmé to help, handing him tools while he fixed the engines from underneath. “You must be very proud of your son,” Qui-Gon said suddenly. “He gives without any thought of reward.” “He knows nothing of greed,” Shmi replied, “only his dreams. And he has…” “Special powers,” Qui-Gon finished. “Yes,” Shmi said warily, staring at him. This didn’t deter Qui-Gon, he went on. “He can see things before they happen,” the Jedi Master said, “that’s why he appears to have such quick reflexes.” Shmi looked at him in barely veiled astonishment, how did he… “It’s a Jedi trait.” Qui-Gon added. Something in his voice convinced Shmi that she should trust him completely. “He deserves better than a slave’s life,” she said, still watching Anakin. “There is only so much I can give him, and that is never enough.” “The Force is unusually strong in him, that much is clear,” Qui-Gon said, more to himself than to Shmi. “Who was his father?” Qui-Gon wasn't sure what to expect for an answer. He was prepared for Shmi to tell him that she didn’t have a name, or that he was rehashing a memory she would rather forget. But the expressions that crossed her face were not of pain, or even anger. Confusion, Qui-Gon pondered, most interesting… “There is no father,” Shmi said finally, “I could never understand it; much less explain it to anyone else. I carried him, I gave birth to him, and I raised him. I can’t tell you anything more than that.” She placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “Can you help him?” As much as Qui-Gon wanted to tell her he could, there wasn't anyway he could be sure to Shmi, to Anakin or even to himself. Even if he did manage to get Anakin off Tatooine, there was no way of knowing whether the Jedi Council would accept him for training. All Jedi were identified within the first year of birth, it was the case for him, for Obi-Wan, Padmé and all the Jedi he knew. Such attachments could prove dangerous in later life; that was why there were no exceptions, not ever. Yet he could not repeat such platitudes to Shmi Skywalker, her plea was so genuine, so heartfelt. Can I help him? Qui-Gon wondered. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, “I didn’t come here to free slaves. If he had been born in the Republic he would have been tested and perhaps become a Jedi. I’m not sure what I can do for him.” Shmi nodded, as much as a part of her wanted to accept the Jedi’s words as they were, there was still a flicker of hope. When Anakin had emerged, stained with dust and muck, from beneath the podracer several others had joined them. Two boys named Kitster and Seek, a girl called Amee and a Rodian named Wald. Anakin made the necessary introductions quickly, yet his friends were more interested in the Gungan and Artoo than in his racer. “Wow, a real astro droid,” Kitster said, moving his hand across Artoo’s dome. “How did you get so lucky Annie?” “That’s not the best part,” Anakin said, dusting his hands off. “I’m going in the Boonta tomorrow!” Kitster stared at Anakin incredulously. “What? With this?” “That piece of junk will never make it off the ground,” Wald said, tapping his hand on the podracer with a grimace. “This is such a joke, Annie.” “You've been working on this for ages,” Amee said with a giggle. “It’s not going to work!” Somehow Anakin managed to ignore her, busying himself by scraping some sand off the side of the cockpit. “Come on,” Seek said to the others, “let’s go play ball.” He grinned back at Anakin. “Keep racing Annie, you’re gonna be bug squash!” They all ran off, but Kitster stayed behind. “What do they know?” Anakin said to Padmé, closing the panels of the engines before checking the wiring in the cockpit. If everything held together, if there weren’t any problems… “Annie,” Kitster said, leaning against the cockpit next to him. “You’re still not sure if this is going to work.” Kitster’s tone was not teasing like Wald’s or Seek’s had been, it more or less reflected the small sinking feeling he had at the back of his mind. He quickly put it out of his mind, it had to work, it would work. “It will work,” Anakin said, and as said it he believed it. Qui-Gon appeared suddenly, carrying something in his hand. “Perhaps we should find out,” he said, with a conspiratorial wink and handed Anakin a smooth, bulky cylinder. “Use this power pack. I picked it up earlier today. Watto has less of a need of it than you do.” Anakin had his own suspicions on how the Jedi had obtained to power pack, but he ignored them. With a grin he secured the power pack in place and activated it. Then pulled on his dented racing helmet and gloves. He looked around, his mother was standing some distance off, rather apprehensive. Padmé was next to Danta, her smile covered barely veiled scepticism. He would show her, he thought with conviction, and he would make his mother proud of him. Anakin pressed the ignition; there was a moment of coughing then the engines roared to life. Flames exploding from the afterburners, the entire podracer vibrating with life. “It’s working!” he shouted triumphantly over the din. “It’s working!” His mother was standing not far away, smiling sadly but not speaking Twilight fell and night followed, deep in the desert the Sand People settled into their camp for the evening, Jawas secured the doors of their Sandcrawlers lest there be unwelcome visitors. Into these usual happenings of night falling on Tatooine, something unusual appeared. A sleek black starfighter circled the desert before setting down on a plat plateau, far but within reach of the cities. From the hatch of the ship a figure in a black, hooded cloak emerged that seemed to blend with the night and darkness that was fast settling. Darth Maxah. She scanned the area with a small pair or electro-binoculars, there were several cities in the distance and the Force told her that the Jedi were near. Once she found the Jedi the ship would be near and she could take Queen Nalanda back to Naboo to sign the treaty. Maxah activated several probe droids from a control strapped to her wrist and made the required settings. These droids were trained to sense tremors in the Force, and Jedi of course were particularly strong. When the droids had dispersed to the different cities, Darth Maxah made her way back to the ship. She would have much preferred to do the searching herself, but it was her Master’s insistence so she would wait. For now.
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