"Well, I think his wife died of a long and tragic disease," Liana said, leaning her ample bosom on the bar. "And he had to take care of the kid
and nurse her...and he's been in mourning since she died."

"Nah. Not him. I think he's a bum who's hiding from something, and the kid is some sort of disguise. Maybe an orphan he picked up somewhere."

Spath Kadnau was torn from his admiration of the barmaids speculating on possible histories for Anakin's handsome guardian by a tug on his coat. He looked down to find the charge of the conversation topic, himself.

"Ani. Where's the old man?"

"I dunno. He told me he didn't want me, then took off."

"What?" Spath nudged Rocno off the chair next to him and picked Anakin up, planting him firmly in the middle of the spinning circle.

Anakin made a full rotation before grabbing the edge of the bar. "He said
what?"

"Well..." Anakin screwed up his face. "I've had enough of Obi-Wan. It's time to go out on my own."

"Ani, you're what? Eight? Nine?"

"I'm ten. And I'm old enough."

"Right, you're old enough. Look, your old man has a lot on his mind right now--"

"But he told me I should have stayed a slave!"

Before he knew it, all three of the barmaids had flocked to their end of the bar.

"Come on, kid," Spath pulled Anakin off the stool, stepped over Rocno's happily drunk mass, and ushered him to a darker, quieter corner.

The barmaids looked disappointed. "Now, tell me what's up."

"I need to get to Naboo."

"What's on Naboo?"

Anakin thought fast. Spath would never believe he was friends with the Queen, so he would have to come up with something else.

"My sister," he said, quickly. "She'll take care of me."

Spath looked doubtful. "I don't know, kid," he said. "I think you should talk to whatsisface, first. Obi-What?"

"Obi-Wan. And we already talked. I'm going to Naboo."

"You talked? What? He just comes out with, ya shoulda stayed a slave, you say, ok, I'm goin' to Naboo, and he said, yeah, have fun?"

Anakin shrugged and looked innocently at Spath. "Sure."



Obi-Wan came awake with a start. He had dozed off, sitting there at the kitchen table. If Anakin has meant to run away, there was undoubtedly one place he knew to go: Barant. The ships and spacers would surely get him off planet. And besides the ships and spacers was at least one psychotic bounty hunter out for a profit. A profit that would be earned by delivering a certain wandering apprentice. Obi-Wan cursed his own stupidity as he raced for the landspeeder.



Anakin strapped himself in carefully to the huge seat he was given beside Trank, the pilot who had volunteered to take him to Macenek, an interplanetary refueling station situated between Malastare and Naboo. Spath had called in a favor to get Anakin on the ship, and warned him that he would have to be careful when looking for someone to take him from the R&R station to Naboo. Not all spacers were as kind-hearted as
himself, Spath knew. Anakin was less than concerned, though. He was
finally going to see Padme again, and then he was going to start his trip
around the galaxy. He was going to be the first to see every star system,
just as he'd promised Qui-Gon.



Spath took a long draw from his mug. His thoughts were with the kid, but his body was still at the bar, and demanding ale. He needed to catch up to the rest of his companions, who were considerably drunker than he. At least, that was his intention, before he was forcibly hauled away from his seat and pinned against the bar.

"Where is he?"

"Huh?" Spath squinted at the brown-robed figure shoving the edge of the bar into his back. Or something, his muddled mind told him. 

The figure lifted its other hand and pushed back the hood to reveal Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Anakin. He ran away from home."

"Ran away? He told me--you're Obi-Wan, right?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi. What did he tell you?"

"He said you got in a fight, and he was going to Naboo to live with his sister for a while. I couldn't take him, but--"

"He doesn't have a sister."

"Hey, kid, I dunno what your deal is with him, but he told me his sister would take care of him."

"Amidala," Obi-Wan realized, oblivious to the fact that he'd spoken aloud.

"Amidala? The queen's his sister?"

"No." Obi-Wan released the aging spacer, who reached behind him and rubbed the pain out of his back. "He's gone to Naboo."

"If it helps any, I sent him off with a guy I can trust. They're going as far as Macenek, and then the kid's on his own. I didn't like it, but he said you were all good with it."

Obi-Wan automatically chalked up misuse of Jedi mind tricks to Anakin's growing list of crimes.

"Can you take me there?"

"Not this week. I got a run tomorrow that'll keep me busy 'til sometime middle of next week. Even had trouble getting the kid as far as Macenek."

Obi-Wan nodded, thoughtfully. He stalked from the tavern, mentally preparing the transmission he knew he would have to send.



"Your Highness, we've received a transmission from Malastare."

"The Agricultural Minister concerning the shipping problems?"

"No, Your Highness, this one is from the Jedi Knight Kenobi."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Queen Amidala of the Naboo raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "We owe him a great debt for his services and sacrifices for our planet. Show me the message."

Panaka flicked a switch on the transmitter control, and Obi-Wan Kenobi seemed to stand solemnly before her. She actually had very little contact with the Knight, though she felt she knew his fallen master well, and had hoped to reach out to his Padawan after his death. Obi-Wan remained a mystery to her, though, and she knew very little of him, save that he had taken young Anakin as his own Padawan.

"Your Majesty,"  he began, his voice the calm, brusque tone of the quintessential Jedi.

He sounded just like his master, Amidala realized, sadly. He had quite a
bit more arrogance, and a bit of a humorous streak, she had thought, but
the words of the man before her echoed strangely of Qui-Gon.

"I come before you, humbly in need of your assistance. My Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, is en route to the interplanetary refueling and repair station, Macenek, in hopes of making his way to Naboo. Since his departure, I have been informed that a price has been placed on his head and that he is in great danger of being abducted and turned over to an
unknown force, for reasons I have yet to discern. I respectfully request that he be met at Macenek and brought safely to Naboo where I will arrive to collect him in a week's time. My humblest gratitude."

"Is that all?" Amidala asked.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Very well. Send a ship to Macenek. I want Ric Olie as the pilot. 

Anakin will recognize and trust him. Send two members of the Royal Guard for protection. Prepare a room for the boy with above standard
security measures." She smiled, slightly. "Put some old parts in it for him
so he will not get bored. Prepare for a transmission. I wish to respond to
Jedi Kenobi myself."



Obi-Wan leaned against Anakin's tree. The bark was cool against the back of his neck and he fought the urge to climb high in its branches.

The boy was halfway to Naboo, and he was waiting for him under a tree.

Obi-Wan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. It was finally starting to
grow out and was turning into a most ridiculous mop. He turned to go back to the house when the movement of a shadow caught his eye. He
moved silently to the window, knowing it would be the escape route of
choice. The assorted debris he and Anakin had managed to strew about
the house made a stranger's escape nearly impossible from any other way, especially in the dark. He boosted himself to the sill and swung his
legs inside. In one quick movement, he ignited his lightsaber and flipped
the switch that illuminated the room. He found himself staring at the same
figure he had seen at the cantina. She sat on Anakin's bed, one foot tucked beneath her, playing with a model Podracer. Obi-Wan stared at her.

"Put that back!"

She held up the model Podracer. Her eyebrow arched, quizzically.

"Yes, that. It's Anakin's. He's coming back for it."

Both eyebrows raised, and a hand touched her mouth. She reached toward Anakin's desk. The model seemed to leap from her hand and settle on the desk, six inches from her fingertips.

From Obi-Wan's vantage point, he could not tell if she tossed the model back to its place or if it had moved from her hand by itself.

Then, she settled back on the bed, leaning her weight on her elbows and tilting her head at Obi-Wan.

He couldn't tell if she was laughing at him, flirting with him, or asking him a question. He felt his frustration growing.

"What are you doing here?"

She tilted her head in the other direction, casting her gaze upward and to the side, as if thinking about his question.

"This is my home. I'll ask you once to leave." He stepped toward the bed.

She kicked him square in the jaw, shifting all her weight to her arms as her legs jackknifed off the bed. Obi-Wan's head snapped backwards, causing him to stumble backward. He immediately regained his bearings
and reignited his lightsaber, to see her curled innocently on Anakin's bed,
again.

"Don't like to get close to anyone, huh?" Obi-Wan asked, rubbing his chin.

The corners of her eyes crinkled, winningly.

"I don't think I like you very much."

Her eyes widened and filled with tears.

"My, but you're good at that. You could give Anakin lessons."

A modest shrug, a tilt of the head, and another eye crinkle.

"You know, this has been a very frustrating few months, so if you don't try to kill me or deliver whatever message you have, I'm going to start trying to seduce you."

She narrowed her eyes and shook one finger at him.

"I know, I'm very naughty. Now, why are you here?"

She swept her hand around the room.

"You're looking for Anakin."

Nod.

"He's not here. I've sent him away to keep him safe."

She raised an eyebrow, skeptically, it seemed. She raised her hand, in which a piece of white paper gleamed against the darkness. The paper
had been crumpled and smoothed back out.

"You aren't going to find him," Obi-Wan continued, dread creeping over his features. He suddenly recognized the paper. Anakin's note.

"You know."

Nod.

"Then why are you here?"

She smiled. "Keep him safe, I will."

"You won't touch him."

She held up her hands, palms facing him, and lifted her shoulders.

"I don't believe you."

Her eyes clouded with anger. Before he even saw her, she was off the bed, and her gloved hand had whipped across his cheek. She was fast, but he was faster. His fingers looped around her wrist, pulling her to
him.

He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pinning her other arm to her
side. Her foot wrapped around his ankle, sending them both to the ground.

He pushed her over, and she let him...until the momentum took her to the
position of superiority. He used the same trick against her, and they rolled across the floor, until they bumped into the leg of Anakin's bed.

Obi-Wan found that a small piece of one of Anakin's models had been left on the floor and was now permanently imbedded in his shoulder. And worse yet, he was on the bottom. He kicked his legs up, curling his lower body over hers until he had flipped them all the way over. Somehow, during the roll, she had twisted her shoulder under his, so she was on her stomach, with her hands pressed under her chest. She pushed up and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, immobilizing her arms. He was not expecting the next move.  Ronyne shifted her weight forward and off one knee, which she promptly drew up and drove back in a mule kick. Obi-Wan immediately called on the Force to remove the pain from his throbbing groin, but his attention had slipped and she had escaped his embrace. He looked up to see her sitting on Anakin's window sill. She blew him a kiss, waved goodbye, and dropped out of sight.



Anakin Skywalker woke up with no memory of falling asleep.

"Hey, Trank...Trank?" He was also no longer buckled into the co-pilot's seat of the transport. "Trank, where am I?" He was in a small chamber with only one door and no windows. He was cold. "Where are you?" He tried the door, but found it locked. "This is not good," he told himself. He could feel the ship landing--which was probably what had woken him up. "Trank! I gotta get out so I can go to Naboo!" No answer. Anakin reached for his lightsaber and found it missing. He wondered if it had fallen from his belt when Trank moved him after falling asleep. He hoped it was that innocent. Concentrating hard, Anakin used the Force to break apart the locking mechanism in the door. He slipped out, silently apologizing to Trank and hoping he wouldn't have to pay for the door. Obi-Wan had this annoying habit of finding ways for him to pay for various things he destroyed. Obi-Wan. Anakin screwed up his face.

He was still mad at him. How could he say that it wasn't right to free the slaves? How could it be wrong to free a slave? Did he really think it was wrong for Qui-Gon to free Anakin? Maybe, Anakin's small rational voice
told him, Obi-Wan was still mad about Qui-Gon's attempt to take Anakin
as his Padawan. After all, no matter what Qui-Gon had said after, Obi-Wan had still been his Padawan when he announced his intentions.
Tabling that topic for the time being, Anakin concentrated on working his way through the ship's corridors to the cockpit. He never made it.

"A resourceful child." Anakin turned a corner and came face to face with half a dozen strangers carrying assorted weaponry. He swallowed hard and reached for the lightsaber that wasn't there. Trank was behind the men, not meeting Anakin's accusing gaze. One of the men was handing him a credit chit, and he shuffled off. Anakin glanced around, searching for an escape route. Men were walking up behind him. He was about to be surrounded. He thought of Obi-Wan's lessons in self-defense.  Too bad so many required a lightsaber. Anakin kicked the nearest man in the shins, and ducked between the legs of the man behind him, taking off down the passageway. He ran as fast as his short legs could take him, but he knew it was not going to be fast enough. He drew on the Force to
give him speed, and used it to summon any loose object he could identify,  blocking the men chasing him. He was nearly back where he started, and knew he had to find a new place to go. Think, he told himself. Where to go? The cockpit. Of course. He jumped on the first ladder he saw, trying to use the Force to propel himself upward, but his concentration was not as it should be, after so much exertion, and he was resigned to scramble up the rungs on his own power. He felt a hand grip his ankle, and then everything went black again.



The Jedi Council gathered slowly, on Mace Windu's request. The sun had not yet risen over the city of Coruscant. When they had assembled, Mace Windu nodded to Ki-Adi-Mundi, who activated the transmission chit he had received a few short hours ago. The flickering image of Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared. He began with the usual honorifics, then began the explanation every person in the room had reason to dread.

"My Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, has had a price placed on him. Whoever as dared such an act is keeping his identity well-hidden, but has
made it quite clear to the mercenary community that Anakin is to be delivered alive. I fear this may prove to be the more dangerous scenario.
"I was warned of this threat by a female bounty hunter of indeterminate age, with an affinity for sharp objects. She claimed her interest in warning me stemmed solely from the desire for a greater challenge. "My interaction with this bounty hunter, who calls herself Ronyne, as in the Corellian legend, has brought several disturbing facts to my attention. She seems to be trained in the ways of the Jedi. I have witnessed examples of Force-enhanced speed, movement of objects, and most disturbing of all, I can get no sense of her. It is almost as if she does
not exist at all. And, Master Yoda, during one of her few verbal communications, she...seemed to be mocking you.  "Due to the danger to Padawan Skywalker's training, he has been removed to a location that shall remain undisclosed, lest this transmission be intercepted. I shall remain on Malastare to investigate this matter."

Obi-Wan's image bowed slightly, flickered, and vanished.

The Council exchanged concerned glances.

"Troubling news, this is," Yoda rasped, leaning on his stick.

"Jedi Knight Kenobi sent his Padawan to safety?" Eeth Koth questioned. "He did not allow the boy to learn and face his enemies? Jedi do not run and hide."

"Skywalker may be dangerous," Mace Windu reminded his peers.

"And whoever wants him, wants him alive. Kenobi was right to hide him."

"I don't like this, Master Windu," Depa Billaba said. "It reeks of the Dark Side. We must determine the identity of the bounty's sponsor."

"I agree," Windu nodded. "And not only that...I want to know about this bounty hunter.

Obi-Wan Kenobi ran his hands through his still-shortish hair and sat heavily on the dilapidated old couch Anakin had scrounged up somewhere.

He shifted to avoid a lump, but found another one in his new position.

Amazing how the couch could be eminently comfortable until his life went
up in flames. Now, even his couch had turned on him. He stood again, and picked up the transmission device. He turned it over in his hand and
finally pushed the button to watch the transmission from Naboo, again.

Queen Amidala stood before him, resplendent in her court robes and ceremonial facepaint. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate style that
made her seem at least six inches taller than she really was.

"Jedi Kenobi," she said, her voice set in its regal diction. "We on Naboo have long been in your debt. Even without regard for my own affection for Anakin, the Naboo would do whatever necessary to aid in your situation. My personal transport is on its way to Macenek, piloted by the Captain of my Air and Space Corps. Your Padawan will be kept safe.  I promise you that, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Obi-Wan sighed as the transmission ended. He believed Amidala.

The Nubians would keep Anakin safe from harm. Ric Olie, who piloted the Queen's transport to Coruscant, through the Trade Federation blockade and back, would find him. And Spath was confident in his friend. Anakin would have no problem getting to Macenek.



This can't be Macenek, Anakin thought, gloomily, staring into a huge pit. He had woken up in some sort of cave structure, his hands and feet chained together. He was now being held by a burly man on each side
of him, and dangled over a sort of chamber imbedded in the rocky ground.

"Who are you, and what are you doing?" he called to the armored man who was studying the controls of the device. "Why are you doing this
to me?"

"'Cause you're worth a bundle, boy," the man replied, distractedly.

"Me? I'm just a kid."

"Yeah, well, I don't know what the man's going to do with you, my job's just to deliver the goods."

"So you're going to drop me into a pit?"

"Why didn't I shackle your mouth?" the bounty hunter wondered, annoyed.

"What is this thing?"

"I dunno...they use it for mining. Freeze it in carbonite, send it off. Figure it'll work for humans. You're too slippery to risk keeping awake."

Great. Anakin swung himself between the two men, wondering how he was getting out of this one.

"Stop squirming, kid."

Anakin used his limited power of the Force to make the guy believe he was hanging perfectly still. At just the right moment, he would make the guy believe he wanted to let go, and bam, he was back on solid ground.
He swinging himself harder, bringing his feet high in front of him. Now...
He hoped the Jedi mind trick would work without him waving his hand.
Maybe the waving of his whole body would do the trick. 

"You want to let me go," he announced, swinging hard.

"Why would I do that?"

Anakin's mind screamed in anger and frustration. Calm, he reminded himself. Patience.

"I am just a boy. Let me go."

At that exact moment, as he swung out again, a small knife came flying from the darkness, catching one man in the shoulder, ripping his arm
away from Anakin's hand. Anakin's momentum threw him toward the lip
of the pit, but he was pulled off balance by the other man's grip. He hit the
edge and was scrambling not to slip down the side. The other man had
fallen from the platform, and was now dangling from Anakin's arm.  Gravel
slipped under Anakin's boots as he pushed with both feet. His arm burned with the force of the man's weight, and he was almost positive it would fall off when the man suddenly let go. Anakin rolled his way to safety, and bumped against a set of booted legs. A hand jerked him upward, and the chains fell from his wrists and ankles. Anakin glanced up to get a good look at his savior, but the figure was already sinking into the
shadows.

"Run," it hissed in a gravelly whisper, snatching Anakin's hand and dragging him into the darkness of the unknown rock formations. Anakin
ran.



He was dreaming about Bandomeer. An ugly, little planet, where he was very nearly doomed to spend his life as an AgriCorps engineer.  Where he offered to blow himself up to save the entire population of the planet. Where he earned his place as Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan learner. He never dreamed about Bandomeer.

And yet, here he was, scrambling up through the layers of loose rock, through the dark tunnels. He couldn't see. He couldn't see a damn thing. Something rained down on his head. His feet slipped from under him. He clawed at the air, praying for an exit. And he was out, and he was no longer on Bandomeer, he was back on Malastare, but it was light, and he and Anakin were training. They were running. Running hard. Running fast. He was easily outpacing Anakin.

His longer legs and excellent conditioning carried him easily past his Padawan, and he knew he would need to work the boy harder.

"Faster Anakin! Run faster! Faster!" He'd nearly gotten carried away that day, pushing the boy past his limits, yelling, not really at Anakin, but at himself, for not running fast enough to reach the melting pit before the shields reformed. Not running fast enough to stay in the battle with the
mysterious Sith. Not running fast enough to save Qui-Gon. 

He'd caught himself before any serious damage had occurred. To this day, Anakin believed it was no more than a tough workout. Only Obi-Wan knew how tenuous his control over the situation had been.

"Faster Anakin! Run faster! Faster!" This time, he felt no wavering of control. The boy had to run fast. The boy had to run as fast as his stubby little legs would carry him. Faster. He had to use the Force.

Obi-Wan could not end this training exercise. And yet, he was secure in
his demands. "RUN! FASTER, ANI! FASTER!"



Anakin's small feet pounded the ground hard as he pressed to keep up with the wraith in front of him. How anyone could run that fast in a cloak creating that much drag was beyond him. The person was dressed all
in black, and Anakin suspected the figure underneath was female, simply
because of the small size and delicate limbs. She ran without tiring, and
Anakin's mind was brought back to Obi-Wan. He chided himself, knowing
he should be concentrating on the movement of his arms and legs in
synchronization, of making the ground move under him, but all he could
hear was Obi-Wan shouting at him.

"Faster Anakin! Run faster! Faster!" The phrase repeated itself over and over in Anakin's mind, not letting him give his sore and tired body a moment's quarter, pushing himself as hard as he could. Even Obi-Wan
had calmed down eventually, but in Anakin's mind, he would not stop
shouting, and Anakin would not slow down. He saw himself running next
to Obi-Wan, imagining himself racing him, running hard, ignoring the
distance, pretending there was no one after him, pretending it was only a
Master and a Padawan, trying hard to prove each other the better runner.
He stretched out his legs, drawing the Force to move his body faster, give him strength, and remove his weariness. This technique finally proved successful, and Anakin managed to stay only a few steps behind his rescuer until she wheeled to the left, whipping out a control and opening the door to a small, private spacecraft, well-hidden amongst the leaves.

"In," she hissed, pushing him through the door and throwing herself in the pilot's seat. Anakin scrambled into the co-pilot's place, a quick glance at the instrument panel orienting him with the controls. She toggled the air-intake valve, ignited the engines, and adjusted the fuel intake.

Within seconds, the tiny craft was airborne and headed through the polluted atmosphere of Bandomeer.

"Hey, um, thanks for saving me, there," Anakin said, curious about the figure next to him. "My name's Anakin. What's yours?"

The hood turned toward him for a split second. It was too dark to see any part of her face, and Anakin wondered if there was really any corporeal body inside the folds of black cloth. He waited what seemed like an eternity to hear the gravelly voice finally whisper, "Ronyne."




Obi-Wan shot straight up. The sheets were twisted around his legs, and soaked with sweat. He kicked them off, impatiently, and stood, wearing only his breeches, in the tiny room. He took several deep breaths, gathering air into his lungs and rolling the tight muscles in his shoulders.
His pounding heart began to subside to its normal rhythm, and breathing
became easier. He gathered the calm the Force provided around him like a cool blanket. The night was hot, but a soft breeze ruffled his hair
and dried the sweat on his face. It brought the scents of Anakin's tree, from the backyard, of the motor grease and oil that seemed to associate itself with Anakin, and of...smoke? Obi-Wan sniffed and lifted one of his robes, pressing it to his face. It smelled of the thick, cloying smoke that
had obscured his senses in the cantina. But the smell was not coming from the robes. He dropped the garment, scooping up his lightsaber as he padded hastily for Anakin's room. He paused outside the door, listening, then slammed the door open. The room was empty.



"Ronyne? Are you the bounty hunter?" Anakin's eyes widened to resemble china blue versions of Obi-Wan's horrendous keth patties. He
couldn't believe he had just gotten saved by a real, live bounty hunter. Not
only that, but a real, live, legendary bounty hunter. Her head moved marginally in an affirmative nod. "Wow! That's so wizard! Did you really
get burned up in a ship explosion? How many guys have you killed? Can
I see your knives? How come you saved me?" His answer was a backhand across the head that stole his consciousness.



"Explain your statement."

"Well, Your Highness," Ric Olie said, over the long-distance transmission. "If Anakin left this morning, and he was on a decent ship, the latest he should have been here was an hour ago. If that boy's on this R&R, I'll eat my wings."

"That won't be necessary, Captain Olie." The Queen suppressed a smile. "Possibly his ship was detained. Or he already found a ride to Naboo. He is a small boy, and small boys are excellent seekers of small nooks and crannies."

"I'll keep looking," Ric Olie conceded. "I won't leave here 'til I know where that kid got himself off to."

"Very well." Amidala ended the transmission and looked back at her handmaidens, worriedly. "How likely is it that Anakin has already been
detained by a bounty hunter?" she asked the room in general.

"Do not fret, m'lady," Sache said, practically. "Young Anakin is training to be a Jedi. They are a most resourceful people."

"His Master certainly looks resourceful," Sabe said, smiling at her Queen. "It was certainly fun to watch his resources travel themselves around the ship while we were on Tatooine."

"Sabe! For shame! Making eyes at Jedi Kenobi!" Amidala could not help but to laugh with Sabe and her other handmaidens. Eirtae exchanged glances with Rabe. At least the Queen was laughing. What else were handmaidens for?



Anakin opened his eyes and sighed. He was tired of waking up in strange places with no memories of going to sleep. This time he seemed
to be in a small metal cage. He started to sit up and cracked his head on
the ceiling. He kicked and encountered more metal. He pushed to the side.

He looked up and saw that the part in front of him was grated. He pushed,
and it gave a little, but not enough. Then, he realized it was a door and that the latch could easily be tripped from the inside. He opened the door
and nearly fell out, before he realized he was in a top-row locker in some
sort of terminal. He wriggled around until he could slide out and land safely on two feet. He sighed and looked around. Where could he possibly be, now? He wandered through several more locker rooms, following signs that advertised "Main Concourse" in several different languages, until he came to a large area populated by grimy spacers, greasy restaurants, and several small repair shops. He quickly scanned the signs.

"I'm on Macenek," he realized, wondering if his entire experience on Bandomeer had just been a result of a truly nasty dream sequence.  He
started to wander toward one of the shops, intending to continue with his
plan to find a ride to Naboo.

"Hey, kid."

Anakin did not notice the man until he tapped him on the shoulder.

"Kid, are you Anakin Skywalker?"

Anakin looked at him in surprise. "Yeah. Who are you?"

"My name's Mott Karden. I'm a Nubian pilot. Queen Amidala sent me to bring you to Naboo."

"She sent someone?" Anakin could not believe his luck. How had Padme known he was coming?

"Sure. Your buddy sent her a transmission and she decided to give you a lift."

"Wizard. Are we leaving, now?"

"Sure thing. I got some food on board. You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Come on. We're at docking bay 327."

Anakin followed the uniformed pilot, his mind relaxing, his thoughts possessed by jackleberry jam sandwiches and Padme.

Look around.

The voice echoed in Anakin's mind, surprising him. Only Obi-Wan had ever spoken in his head before. And this was not Obi-Wan's voice.
This voice was sweet and low and feminine. Still, he jerked his head up,
scanning the concourse of the R&R. Conscious of the Naboo pilot beside
him, Anakin felt for the Force, and allowed his eyes to be drawn to a nearby cantina. He blinked and looked again.

Ric Olie was sitting in a window booth, sipping something from a mug.

Anakin glanced up at the man who was swiftly ushering him to the hanger bay. If Ric Olie was here, this man must be an impostor. For the first time, Anakin could sense the deception emanating from him. It was something with which he was unfamiliar, and he had not automatically picked up on this feeling. He could almost hear Obi-Wan chiding him to listen to his feelings, and mentally shut him up. He didn't need to be reminded of all his mistakes, he decided. He used his limited control over the Force to cloud the man's mind as he slipped away to the cantina.

"Ric!" Anakin trotted up to the older man.

"Anakin! Figured you'd come in here eventually if you were looking for a ship."

"So Padme, uh, Queen Amidala did send you?"

"Yeah. Kenobi called and asked us to give you a lift. Thought you'd get here a little sooner."

"Ric..." Anakin bit his lip. "Ric, the guy who was supposed to bring me here, he took me somewhere else, some mining place. He was going to freeze me in carbonite and take me to someone. And just a few minutes ago, some other guy came up and said he was a Naboo pilot and he was supposed to pick me up."

"No way, kid. The Queen sent me, since you'd know me, even if I missed you somehow."

"Ric...What's going on?"

"Someone's trying to have you kidnapped, Ani. Obi-Wan found out and he's trying to keep you safe until he can figure out who it is and why. I got a couple of Panaka's guys with me. We're gonna get you back to Naboo. They ain't gonna get you, kid."

Anakin nodded solemnly, and let Ric lead him out of the cantina.

As soon as they left the doors, two Naboo palace guards fell in step behind them. Anakin concentrated, as Obi-Wan taught him, staying mindful of his surroundings.

Ric Olie had flown the Queen's personal transport, a J-type 327 Nubian. It gleamed slick and silver in its bay. Anakin recognized that ship. It was the first space ship he'd ever flown in. He was suddenly hit with a feeling of deja vu, as a cold feelings crept through him. Space was so cold.



"We need a list of every female initiate not to be taken as an Padawan apprentice," Adi Gallia, proposed.

"What if she was taken as a Padawan?" Ki-Adi-Mundi proposed.

"Do we have any sort of time reference?" Mace Windu suggested.

"Not really," Depa Billaba said. "Jedi Kenobi said she was a legendary bounty hunter. It takes quite a bit of time to become legendary."

"But she can't be that old, if she can still keep up with her reputation," Yarael Poof pointed out.

"Age matters not," Yoda reminded them. "Older than any of you, I am. Weak, I am not."

"What if she was never an initiate?" Eeth Koth suggested. "What if she was just a Force-sensitive who was overlooked? Or maybe someone else trained her."

"Are you suggesting a Jedi knight who knew she was too old to enter traditional training, or a Sith?" Mace Windu questioned.

"Either."

"A Sith," Yoda repeated, thoughtfully.

"You believe she is the other? The one who was not destroyed?"

"No. Sith, she is not. Jalen-Ka's Padawan, you remember?"

"She was destroyed," Mace Windu replied.

"Destroyed? Perhaps. Perhaps not."



Obi-Wan Kenobi sat on his lumpy couch, consulting his pad of questions. The Council had sent him a transmission, quizzing him on many of the details of the bounty hunter, and of his investigation into the kidnapping threat. He had talked to countless spacers, bounty hunters, mercenaries, and barmaids. The barmaids turned out to be the most talkative, but the least useful. In short, he was making little to no progress.

And now, the Council had a list of queries, many of which barely made sense to the young Jedi.

Her race. Her age. A detailed critique of her skills, both with the Force and without. How old was the legend? How many men was she to have killed? Any accent or strange inflection to her words? Ability to speak other languages? Which ones? Scars or distinguishing physical characteristics? Obi-Wan was starting to wish he had attempted to seduce her. He'd have a much better idea for the answers the Council sought.

He sighed and laid the pad next to him on the couch. The house was
strangely quiet without Anakin, and Obi-Wan wondered what his Padawan would say about all this. And then he knew. All he had to do was ask her.



Ric Olie nudged a sleeping Anakin. "Wake up, kid. We're there."

"Wha--huh?" Anakin blinked sleepy eyes. At least I woke up in the same place I went to sleep this time, he thought.

"C'mon, the Queen's waiting for you."

"She is?" Anakin was suddenly wide awake, jumping to his feet. He tried desperately to wipe his grimy tunic clean, but there was no way of salvaging that particular piece of clothing.

"Yeah, c'mon. Let's go." Ric clambored off the ship, followed the the Royal guards, and Anakin. "An' be respectful," he hissed over his shoulder.

Their small group came to a half in front of the ornately made-up Queen, three handmaidens, and a contingent of Palace guards, including Captain Panaka.

"Welcome, Jedi Padawan Skywalker," the Queen said, her voice hard with the royal inflections.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Anakin replied, bowing.

"I understand your safety has been threatened. We will use any means in our capacity to keep you safe, but we must request that you cooperate. Two guards will be stationed outside the door to your room.

You may roam anywhere in the palace, but we ask that you be escorted,
for your own protection. Padme will show you to your room and help you
with anything you may require." The Queen's face slipped into the faintest
hint of a smile as Anakin's eyes widened, and he looked at her more
closely, then scanned the array of handmaidens. One of them winked at
him from behind her orange hood.

"Yes, Ma'am!" he exclaimed, remembering a hasty bow before taking off with Padme.

The false Queen and her entire entourage turned, smiling, to watch Anakin bounce out of the hanger with Padme.



The floor was dusty and gritty and the air was thick with smoke laced with spices outlawed on many worlds, including this one. Though few noticed when a cloaked figure opened the door, a path to the bar melted into existance as the nightly rabble was quieted by an artificially produced sense of awe and respect. The figure made its way, smoothly and austerely, to the center of the bar, where it turned, ascertaining that it had the attention of the entire congregation.

Only then, did the rough, brown hood fall back to reveal Obi-Wan Kenobi. He held up a twisted, wicked-looking dagger, and without looking, thrust it into the wood of the bar.

"Tell Ronyne I'm returning her knife."



"Obi-Wan really sent you a transmission and wanted someone to pick me up?" Anakin wanted to know.

"Of course, Anakin. He cares for you, very, very much."

Anakin failed to reply, except for a sarcastic snort, if a snort can be interpreted as sarcastic.

"Anakin."

Anakin shuffled and ducked his head under the intensity of Padme's stare.

"We're here." She ushered him into the room, and sat down on the bed. "Come here and give me a hug."

"Can I do that? I mean, since you're a queen now, and all?"

"I always was Queen, silly. It just means that now I can order you around."

"Ok." Anakin's smile could have lit up Coruscant as he hugged Padme tightly.

"I've missed you, Anakin," she said, holding him at arm's length.

"Thank you for the letters and the transmissions. I've enjoyed them both."

"Oh, that was Ob--" Anakin trailed off.

"That was Obi-Wan's idea?"

Anakin nodded, grudgingly.

"Ani, what happened? I thought things were going ok...except for the food thing."

"Yeah, well..."

"You can tell me if you want, but you don't have to."

To his embarrassment, Anakin felt a major sniffle coming on. "I wanted to Podrace. And Obi-Wan was busy all day and made me practice this stupid patience exercise. But I got bored, so I went to help one of my friends with her Pod..."

Padme's mouth quirked as she tried to repress a smile at the irony of Anakin's predicament.

"...and Obi-Wan flipped and started yelling at me. We got in this big fight about why he doesn't think I should Podrace and about gambling and stuff, and he said I should have stayed a slave."

Padme arched an eyebrow at Anakin. "He just said that? 'Anakin, I sure wish you were still a slave?'"

Anakin traced a floorboard with his boot. "Well...I don't think it went exactly like that." It hadn't, and he knew it. And now, now that he was safe, he was starting to wish that maybe he hadn't gotten in that fight with Obi-Wan.   "How did it go?"

"Well, I was talking about Qui-Gon betting Watto...and betting me, and he said that 'just 'cause Qui-Gon did it, didn't make it right.'"    He managed to finish with a semi-repressed sniffle.

"Oh, Ani." Padme looked at him sadly. "I'm going to explain some things to you, and you may not like them, but I'm only going to tell you the truth, all right?"

Anakin hesitated a moment, then nodded, reluctantly.

"Had Qui-Gon survived the battle with the Sith, he would have been called before the Jedi Council and severely reprimanded. If not worse. He took a very big gamble with some very big stakes, and he got very lucky. We got a wonderful gift from that gamble, you, Ani, but Qui-Gon could just as easily have lost his bet, and then you would still be a slave, Watto would own the Pod and my transport, and we would all still be on Tatooine. We would never have spoken to the Senate, and Naboo would still be in the hands of the Trade Federation. We were very lucky, but the Jedi are not supposed to rely on luck. They are supposed to be logical and impartial. Just because Obi-Wan does not agree with Master Qui-Gon's methods, does not mean that he does not love the results. I know he did not want to stay on Tatooine. He did not want Naboo to stay in the hands of the Federation. He did not want you to stay as a slave."

Anakin answered her with a deep sigh.

"I knoooow that," he said in that long-suffering tone that only children who wish they did not have to grow up can manage.

"But you don't like it."

"Well..." Anakin fidgeted on the bed. "Why do you have to make it sound so bad?"

Padme smiled. "I'm sorry, Anakin. It's just the truth. And we don't always like the truth, but it happens, anyway."

"I know."

Padme was silent for a few moments, letting Anakin think. "Can I ask you something, Ani?"

"Sure."

"What did Obi-Wan call Qui-Gon when he was alive?"

Anakin scrunched up his face, remembering. "I think he just called him Master. Maybe Master Qui-Gon."

"Mmm-hmm." Padme waited for the parallel to dawn on Anakin.  She found herself waiting quite a while. "And what do you call your Master?"

"You mean Obi-Wan?"

Padme closed her eyes against Anakin's obtuseness.

"Oh."

She opened them again.

"I don't call him Master, do I?" He ducked his head as he thought about that. The other initiates had sneered at him, at his ignorance of Jedi customs and respect.

"I haven't heard you do so," Padme offered, tactfully.

"Do you think that's like a big insult or something?"

Padme shrugged gracefully. "I don't know. I'm not a Jedi. You might want to ask one when you see one."

"Padme?"

"Yes, Ani?"

"Do you think if I said I was sorry...and really meant it, and started calling him Master Obi-Wan, it would be ok if I went home?"

"You'll have to ask him, Ani. But for right now, you're going to stay with us so my men can keep you safe."

"Is Ob--Master Obi-Wan coming, or is he staying on Malastare?"

"I don't know, Ani. He sent this for you, though. Maybe that will help." She handed him a holo-message projector she had tucked away in the folds of her robe. Good luck, Ani. I hope you find what you are looking for." She gave him a quick peck on the forehead and rose togo.

She saw that Anakin's attention was already fixated on the projector, and
used his distraction to slip quietly out the door.



"No, Master Yoda! She can not be alive!"

"Deceiving, appearances can be."

"No, Yoda, I know. I saw what happened."

"A body, you saw not."

"She became one with the Force. We talked about that. We felt it.  We found her cloak."

"Perhaps wounded, she was."

"No. She could not have survived that cut on her own. I killed her!"

ON to Part 3