1: Bounty

"Her Majesty commands you to take her handmaiden with you."

Qui-Gon Jinn sighed as he turned to address Captain Panaka, the head of the Queen's security forces.

"No more commands from the Queen today, captain," he said. "Mos Espa is no place to send a handmaiden."

"She's curious about the planet," Panaka insisted, raising his hand to his forehead to shade his eyes from the blaze of Tatooine's twin suns. His dark skin looked even darker in the shadows.

The Jedi Master frowned, and then consented.

"Very well," he said, gesturing to the handmaiden to follow him as he turned toward to face the city. "Stay close to me."

The girl fell in step, taking two steps to compensate for Qui-Gon's long strides.

"What is your name?" Qui-Gon asked her as he turned his gaze to the desert wastes.

As far as the eye could see was sand…and beyond that, there was more sand, heated to blistering temperatures under the planet's twin suns. What a desolate place this is, he thought.

"I'm Padmé," she replied.

Qui-Gon found it very difficult to keep track of which of the Queen's handmaidens was which. They all looked so much alike, and their matching wardrobes didn't help improve the situation either.

"Well Padmé Naberrié," he said, thankful that he had memorized the handmaidens' names off the ship's roster, "what does her Majesty wish to know about Tatooine? I'm sure she could learn just about everything there is to know about it using a holonet terminal on the ship."

The girl lapsed into silence before responding, a lapse that was duly noted by her Jedi companion.

"She wanted me to tell her what the people were like here," Padmé finally answered.

"Still," Qui-Gon argued, "a spaceport like Mos Espa is no place to send a girl like you. There are far too many thugs and drunks with questionable morals in these parts."

If he had been looking, Qui-Gon would have seen his female companion's cheeks flush red, but instead he had turned the other way to admonish their Gungan tag-along, Jar-Jar Binks—whom he'd taken along for fear of what Obi-Wan might to or say to him if he left him behind—that he was to stay close, and that he was not to touch anything.

As the group entered the spaceport, Qui-Gon surveyed the beings milling about, and made an assessment of the area's demographics.

"Some indigenous tribes and scavengers," he said. "Spaceports like this one are havens for those who don't wish to be found."

He was surprised by Padmé's following interjection.

"Like us."

How true, he thought.

Pursued by the Trade Federation from the Queen's home planet of Naboo, Qui-Gon and his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi had led the Nubian ruler and her entourage to Tatooine in hopes of evading the long arm of the Federation while they affected repairs to their ship, which had been damaged in their escape. Their goal was to journey to Coruscant to make an appeal to the Senate, hoping that the galaxy's ruling body would put an end to the blockade and trade boycott the Federation had instigated over Naboo. If they failed to convince the Senate to help them, the blue world of Naboo would most likely be turned into a desolate brown husk after Federation stripped it of all its natural resources and enslaved its citizens.

Qui-Gon led his group single file down the narrow street that led to the business district of the spaceport, scanning the signs that hung over door frames, looking for a dealer that might have what they needed. He paused by a shop with a sign printed in Huttese.

"We'll try one of the smaller dealers first," he announced.

Padmé and Jar-Jar preceded him in entering the shop; he was followed by the astromech droid he had borrowed from the royal star cruiser. They were greeted by the stench of rotten food, grease, sweat, and a sharp call of "Waddya want?" from the back corner of the dimly-lit entry room.

Presently, a blue-gray Toydarian flapped out of the shadows, suspended in the air by a pair of wings that seemed too small to support its weight.

After snatching a partly assembled droid away from Jar-Jar, Qui-Gon replied.

"I'm looking for a hyperdrive generator for a J-Type, 327 Nubian."

"A Nubian," the Toydarian purred. "We got lots o' that."

Qui-Gon nodded his approval and admonished Jar-Jar to stand still.

"My droid has a readout of what we need."

"Speaking of Nubian," the Toydarian continued, "there's been a bulletin out on the holonet...said something 'bout a cruiser blasting its way out of Thede. As the story goes, there was some nasty ex-convicts on board...believe the lot o' scumbags kidnapped the Queen or something. As I hear it, the Trade Federation is offering a hefty reward to the man who turns them in. They say this whole thing is holding up some sort of alliance between the Federation and the Naboo."

The Toydarian paused and looked him up and down.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Qui-Gon was careful not to let his emotions show as he responded.

"Not in the least."

Reaching out in the Force, Qui-Gon gauged Padmé's reaction.

Her heart rate and breathing were elevated. Her being exuded nervousness into the Force. Qui-Gon hoped she wouldn't give them away.

"Well," the Toydarian continued, seemingly nonplussed, "let me take ya guys on back."

With that, he fluttered out the back door, yelling something in Huttese. In a few moments, a boy of about nine appeared in the doorway.

"What took ya so long?"

"I was cleaning the fan switches, Watto," the boy snapped back.

"Watch the store," Watto commanded. "I got some sellin' to do."

He gestured for Qui-Gon to follow him, and disappeared in the glaring afternoon sun.

Once Qui-Gon and Watto had left, the boy lapsed into a friendly monologue.

"Are you an angel?" he asked, pushing his sand-colored hair out of his eyes. Before Padmé could answer he continued. "I listen to all the deep space pilots talk around here and they say that angels are the most beautiful creatures in the whole galaxy. They live on the moons of Iego, I think.

"I can race pods," he continued. "They're these two big engines connected to a cockpit by big cables. I'm the only human who can do it. I've been flying since I was very little – four I think. After Gardulla the Hutt lost us betting on the Podraces, I started racing myself. Little things first, derbies and stuff mostly...but now Watto has me race in the big time. If Sebulba hadn't banged up my pod in our last race, I'd be entering the Boonta Eve tournament tomorrow."

"You're a slave?" Padmé asked tentatively, her mind focused on the boy's admission of that fact, instead of happy ramblings about one of the most dangerous sports in the galaxy.

His response was fiery and full of anger.

"I'm person and my name is Anakin!"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I'm a stranger here...I didn't know..."

Thankfully, Anakin changed the subject, his child's brain leaping from one topic to the other.

"What brought you guys to the Outer Rim anyway?"

"Our ship is damaged," she replied, sweat beading on her forehead at the mention of their reason for coming to Tatooine. "We're stranded here until we can repair it."

At that young Anakin's face lit up. "I can fix anything! Once Watto lets me off work for the day, I could come help you."

Padmé knew the last thing they needed was someone who knew that their ship was the cruiser that had escaped the Federation's blockade of Naboo.

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do until Qui-Gon buys the parts we need."

Considering the current topic of conversation closed to further discussion, Anakin turned to a new thread.

"Are you a Gungan?" he asked Jar-Jar. "They come from Naboo. Are you guys from Naboo?"

"Meesa?" Jar-Jar sought confirmation, pointing at himself.

Padmé interrupted Jar-Jar before he had a chance to possibly give them away. She was sure the Toydarian would interrogate his slave once they left, and put two and two together. The less this boy knew the better.

"I..."

"We're leaving."

Qui-Gon's sharp call cut her off. He snatched a power converter away from Jar-Jar and pulled him toward the door, his R2 unit in tow. Padmé rushed out after him, eager to be away from Anakin's probing questions.

When the group was safely out of earshot, Qui-Gon and scolded them: "What were you doing back there? Are you brainless? Thanks to the two of you that slimy Toydarian probably knows we're the fugitives the Federation is looking for."

Turning away, he added under his breath, "Taking her along was a bad idea."

Padmé slowed, walking behind the Jedi instead of beside him, trying to hide the hot tears that ran down her cheeks. She wanted to explain to him what had happened, but couldn't find the words to do so.

Qui-Gon produced a comm-link from his belt, contacting his Padawan.

After a few moments of static, Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice could be heard over the receiver's tiny speaker.

"What is it Master?"

"I've located the parts we need."

"That's good news."

"The only problem is that the dealer won't accept Republic credits as payment," Qui-Gon lamented. "What do have on board to barter with?"

"Not much," Obi Wan replied. "A few containers of supplies. Maybe the Queen's wardrobe."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I don't think that's enough Obi-Wan."

"Perhaps another solution will present itself, Master," Obi-Wan offered.

"Perhaps," was the reply. "In the meantime, we must be extra careful."

"What is it Master?" The concern in the younger Jedi's voice was palpable.

"The Federation has put a bounty on our heads, and one of the locals here might know who we are."

There was silence on the other end as Obi-Wan digested the news.

"Don't let them send any transmissions Obi-Wan; stay on the ship."

"Yes Master."

Qui-Gon abruptly cut the transmission, and strode off down the street. Padmé followed, wishing she had never spoken to the boy in Watto's shop, and hoping that the Federation wouldn't discover their whereabouts because of it.