Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace

by Terry Brooks

  The cruiser’s captain and copilot sat side by side at the forward console, hands moving swiftly over the controls as they steered closer to the ship with the Trade Federation viceroy insignia emblazoned on its bridge. There was a nervous energy to their movements that was unmistakable. From time to time, they would glance uneasily at each other—and over their shoulders at the figure who stood in the shadows behind.

  On the viewscreen in front of them, captured from his position on the bridge of the battleship toward which they were headed, was Trade Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray, his reddish orange eyes staring out at them expectantly. The Neimoidian wore his perpetually sour expression, mouth downturned, bony brow emphasizing his discontent. His green-gray skin reflected the ambient lighting of the ship, all pale and cold in contrast to his dark robes, collar, and tricornered headdress.

  “Captain.”

  The cruiser captain turned slightly in her seat to acknowledge the figure concealed in the shadows behind her. “Yes, sir?”

  “Tell them we wish to board at once.”

  The voice was deep and smooth, but the measure of resolution it contained was unmistakable.

  “Yes, sir,” the captain said, giving the copilot a covert glance, which the copilot returned. The captain faced Nute Gunray on the screen. “With all due respect, Viceroy, the ambassadors for the supreme chancellor have requested that they be allowed to board immediately.”

  The Neimoidian nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, Captain, of course. We would be happy to receive the ambassadors at their convenience. Happy to, Captain.”

  The screen went dark. The captain hesitated, glancing back at the figure behind her. “Sir?”

  “Proceed, Captain,” Qui-Gon Jinn said.

  The Jedi Master watched silently as the Trade Federation battleship loomed before them, filling the viewport with its gleaming bulk. Qui-Gon was a tall, powerfully built man with prominent, leonine features. His beard and mustache were close-cropped and his hair was worn long and tied back. Tunic, pants, and hooded robe were typically loose-fitting and comfortable, a sash binding them at his waist where his lightsaber hung just out of view, but within easy reach.

  Qui-Gon’s sharp blue eyes fixed on the battleship as if to see what waited within. The Republic’s taxation of the trade routes between the star systems had been in dispute since its inception, but until now all the Trade Federation had done in response was to complain. The blockade of Naboo was the first act of outright defiance, and while the Federation was a powerful body, equipped with its own battle fleet and army of droids, its action here was atypical. The Neimoidians were entrepreneurs, not fighters. They lacked the backbone necessary to undertake a challenge to the Republic. Somehow they had found that backbone. It bothered Qui-Gon that he could not explain how.

  He shifted his weight as the cruiser moved slowly into the gap in the Trade Federation flagship’s outer wheel toward the hangar bay. Tractor beams took hold, guiding the cruiser inside where magnetic clamps locked the ship in place. The blockade had been in effect now for almost a month. The Republic Senate continued to debate the action, searching for an amicable way to resolve the dispute. But no progress had been made, and at last the supreme chancellor had secretly notified the Jedi Council that he had sent two Jedi directly to the ostensible initiators of the blockade, the Neimoidians, in an effort to resolve the matter more directly. It was a bold move. In theory, the Jedi Knights served the supreme chancellor, responding on his direction to life-threatening situations. But any interference in the internal politics of the Senate’s member bodies, particularly where an armed conflict between worlds was involved, required Senate approval. The supreme chancellor was skirting the edges of his authority in this case. At best, this was a covert action and would spark heated debate in the Senate at a later date.

  The Jedi Master sighed. While none of this was his concern, he could not ignore the implications of what it meant if he failed. The Jedi Knights were peacemakers; that was the nature of their order and the dictate of their creed. For thousands of years they had served the Republic, a constant source of stability and order in a changing universe. Founded as a theological and philosophical study group so far back that its origins were the stuff of myth, the Jedi had only gradually become aware of the presence of the Force. Years had been spent in its study, in contemplation of its meaning, in mastery of its power. Slowly the order had evolved, abandoning its practice of and belief in a life of isolated meditation in favor of a more outward-looking commitment to social responsibility. Understanding the Force sufficiently to master its power required more than private study. It required service to the greater community and implementation of a system of laws that would guarantee equal justice for all. That battle was not yet won. It probably never would be. But the Jedi Knights would not see it lost for lack of their trying.

  In the time of Qui-Gon Jinn, ten thousand Jedi Knights in service to the Republic carried on the struggle each day of their lives in a hundred thousand different worlds spread across a galaxy so vast it could barely be comprehended.

  He turned slightly as his companion in this present enterprise arrived on the bridge and came up to stand beside him. “Are we to board?” Obi-Wan Kenobi asked softly.

  Qui-Gon nodded. “The viceroy will meet with us.”

  He glanced momentarily at his protégé, taking his measure. Obi-Wan, in his mid-twenties, was more than thirty years younger and still learning his craft. He was not yet a full Jedi, but he was close to being ready. Obi-Wan was shorter than Qui-Gon, but compact and very quick. His smooth, boyish face suggested an immaturity that had been long since shed. He wore the same type of clothes as Qui-Gon, but his hair was cut in the style of a Padawan learner, short and even, save for the tightly braided pigtail that hung over his right shoulder.

  Qui-Gon was staring out the viewport at the interior of the Trade Federation battleship when he spoke again. “Why Naboo, do you think, my young apprentice? Why blockade this particular planet, when there are so many to choose from, most larger and more likely to feel the effects of such an action?”

  Obi-Wan said nothing. Naboo was indeed an odd choice for an action of this sort, a planet at the edge of the galaxy, not particularly important in the scheme of things. Its ruler, Amidala, was something of an unknown. New to the throne, she had only been Queen a few months before the blockade had begun. She was young, but it was rumored she was prodigiously talented and extremely well trained. It was said she could hold her own with anyone in a political arena. It was said she could be circumspect or bold when necessary, and was wise beyond her years.

  The Jedi had been shown a hologram of Amidala before they left Coruscant. The Queen favored theatrical paint and ornate dress, cloaking herself in trappings and makeup that disguised her true appearance while lending her an aura of both splendor and beauty. She was a chameleon of sorts, masking herself to the world at large and finding companionship almost exclusively with a cadre of handmaidens who were always with her.

  Qui-Gon hesitated a moment longer, thinking the matter through, then said to Obi-Wan, “Come, let’s be off.”

  They passed downward through the bowels of the ship to the main hatch, waited for the light to turn green, and released the locking bar so that the ramp could lower. Raising their hoods to help conceal their faces, they stepped out into the light.

  A protocol droid named TC-14 was waiting to escort them to their meeting. The droid took them from the bay down a series of hallways to an empty conference room and motioned them inside.

  “I hope your honored sirs will be comfortable here.” The tinny voice reverberated inside the metal shell. “My master will be with you shortly.”

  The droid turned and went out, closing the door softly behind. Qui-Gon watched it go, glanced briefly at the exotic, birdlike creatures caged near the door, then moved to join Obi-Wan at a broad window that looked out through the maze of Federation battleships to where the lush green sphere of Naboo hung resplendent against the dark sky.


  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Obi-Wan said after a moment’s contemplation of the planet.

  Qui-Gon shook his head. “I don’t sense anything.”

  Obi-Wan nodded. “It’s not about here, Master. It’s not about this mission. It’s something … elsewhere. Something elusive …”

  The older Jedi put his hand on the other’s shoulder. “Don’t center on your anxiety, Obi-Wan. Keep your concentration on the here and now, where it belongs.”

  “Master Yoda says I should be mindful of the future—”

  “But not at the expense of the present.” Qui-Gon waited until his young apprentice was looking at him. “Be mindful of the living Force, my young Padawan.”

  To his credit, Obi-Wan managed a small smile. “Yes, Master.” He looked out the viewport again, eyes distant. “How do you think the viceroy will deal with the supreme chancellor’s demands?”

  Qui-Gon gave an easy shrug. “These people are cowards. They will not be hard to persuade. The negotiations will be short.”

  On the bridge of the Trade Federation battleship, Neimoidian Viceroy Nute Gunray and his lieutenant, Daultay Dofine, stood staring in shock at the protocol droid they had sent to look after the supreme chancellor’s ambassadors.

  “What did you say?” Gunray hissed furiously.

  TC-14 was impervious to the look the Neimoidian gave it. “The ambassadors are Jedi Knights. One of them is a Jedi Master. I am quite certain of it.”

  Dofine, a flat-faced, restless sort, wheeled on his companion in dismay. “I knew it! They were sent to force a settlement! The game’s up! Blind me, we’re done for!”

  Gunray made a placating gesture. “Stay calm! I’ll wager the Senate is completely unaware of the supreme chancellor’s moves in this matter. Go. Distract them while I contact Lord Sidious.”

  The other Neimoidian gaped at him. “Are you brain-dead? I’m not going in there with two Jedi Knights! Send the droid!”

  He waved hurriedly at TC-14, who bowed, made a small squeaky sound in response, and went out.

  When the protocol droid was gone, Dofine summoned Rune Haako, the third member of their delegation, drew both his compatriots to a closed, separate space on the bridge where they could be neither seen nor heard by anyone else, and triggered a holographic communication.

  It took a few moments for the hologram to appear. As it did so, a stoop-shouldered, dark-robed shape appeared, cloaked and hooded so that nothing of its face could be seen.

  “What is it?” an impatient voice demanded.

  Nute Gunray found his throat so dry that for a moment he could not speak. “The Republic ambassadors are Jedi Knights.”

  “Jedi?” Darth Sidious breathed the word softly, almost reverently. There was a measure of calm about his acceptance of the news. “Are you sure?”

  Nute Gunray found what little courage he had been able to muster for this moment quickly evaporating. He stared at the black form of the Sith Lord in mesmerized terror. “They have been identified, my lord.”

  As if unable to endure the silence that followed, Daultay Dofine charged into the gap, wild-eyed. “This scheme of yours has failed, Lord Sidious! The blockade is finished! We dare not go up against Jedi Knights!”

  The dark figure in the hologram turned slightly. “Are you saying you would rather go up against me, Dofine? I am amused.” The hood shifted toward Gunray. “Viceroy!”

  Nute stepped forward quickly. “Yes, my lord?”

  Darth Sidious’s voice turned slow and sibilant. “I don’t want this stunted piece of slime to pass within my sight again. Do you understand?”

  Nute’s hands were shaking, and he clasped them together to still them. “Yes, my lord.”

  He wheeled on Dofine, but the other was already making his way from the bridge, his face filled with terror, his robes trailing behind him like a shroud.

  When he was gone, Darth Sidious said, “This turn of events is unfortunate, but not fatal. We must accelerate our plans, Viceroy. Begin landing your troops. At once.”

  Nute glanced quickly at Rune Haako, who was trying his best to disappear into the ether. “Ah, my lord, of course, but … is that action legal?”

  “I will make it legal, Viceroy.”

  “Yes, of course.” Nute took a quick breath. “And the Jedi?”

  Darth Sidious seemed to grow darker within his robes, his face lowering further into shadow. “The supreme chancellor should never have brought the Jedi into this. Kill them now. Immediately.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Nute Gunray answered, but the hologram of the Sith Lord had already vanished. He stared at the space it had left behind for a moment, then turned to Haako. “Blow up their ship. I will send a squad of battle droids to finish them.”

  In the conference room in which they had been left, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stared at each other across a long table.

  “Is it customary for Neimoidians to make their guests wait this long?” the younger Jedi asked.

  Before Qui-Gon could respond, the door opened to admit the protocol droid bearing a tray of drinks and food. TC-14 crossed to their table, placed the tray before them, and handed each a drink. It stepped back then, waiting. Qui-Gon motioned to his young companion, and they lifted the drinks and tasted them.

  Qui-Gon nodded at the droid, then looked at Obi-Wan. “I sense an unusual amount of maneuvering for something as trivial as this trade dispute. I sense fear as well.”

  Obi-Wan placed his drink back on the table. “Perhaps—”

  An explosion rocked the room, spilling the drinks, sending the tray with its food skidding toward the edge. The Jedi leapt to their feet in response, lightsabers drawn and activated. The protocol droid backpedaled quickly, arms lifting, muttering its apologies, looking every which way at once.

  “What’s happened?” Obi-Wan asked quickly.

  Qui-Gon hesitated, closed his eyes, and retreated deep within himself. His eyes snapped open. “They’ve destroyed our ship.”

  He glanced around swiftly. It took only a moment for him to detect a faint hissing sound from the vents near the doorway.

  “Gas,” he said to Obi-Wan in warning.

  In the cage beside the door, the birdlike creatures began to drop like stones.

  On the bridge, Nute Gunray and Rune Haako watched through a viewscreen as a squad of battle droids marched into the hallway just outside the conference room in which the Jedi were trapped. On crooked metal legs, they approached the doorway, blasters held at the ready, a hologram of Nute directing them from behind.

  “They must be dead by now, but make certain,” he directed the battle droids, and switched off the hologram.

  The Neimoidians watched closely as the foremost of the battle droids opened the door and stepped back. A cloud of noxious green gas poured from the room, and a solitary figure stumbled into view, arms waving.

  “Excuse me, sirs, I’m so sorry,” TC-14 babbled as it maneuvered through the battle droids, holding aloft its tray of scattered food and spilled drinks.

  In the next instant the Jedi appeared, charging from the room with lightsabers flashing. Qui-Gon’s weapon sent a pair of the battle droids flying in a shower of sparks and metal parts that scattered everywhere. Obi-Wan’s saber deflected blaster fire into several more. He raised his hand, palm outward, and another of the droids went crashing into the wall.

  On the bridge viewscreen, smoke and lingering clouds of green gas obscured everything. Alarms began to sound throughout the battleship, reverberating off its metal skin.

  “What in blazes is going on down there?” Nute Gunray demanded of his associate, eyes wide.

  Rune Haako shook his head doubtfully. There was fear in his orange-red eyes. “You’ve never encountered Jedi Knights before, have you?”

  “Well, no, not exactly, but I don’t see …” The alarms continued to blare, and suddenly Nute Gunray was unabashedly afraid. “Seal off the bridge!” he shouted frantically.

  Rune Haako backed away as the doors to the
bridge began to close. His voice was small and went unheard as he whispered to himself, “That won’t be enough.”

  In seconds, the Jedi were standing in the hallway outside the bridge, dispatching the last of the battle droids that stood in their way. An unstoppable force, the two men worked in unison against their adversaries, seemingly able to anticipate every form of attack. Lightsabers flashed and stabbed in brilliant bursts of color. Droids and blasters fell away in broken pieces.

  “I want destroyer droids up here at once!” Nute Gunray screamed, watching as one of the Jedi began cutting through the bridge door with his lightsaber. He felt his throat tighten and his skin begin to crawl. “Close the blast doors! Now!”

  One after another, the blast doors began to shut and seal with hissing sounds. The crew stood transfixed as on the viewscreen the Jedi continued their attack, lightsabers cutting at the massive doors, melting away the steelcrete like soft butter. Mutters of disbelief were heard, and Nute screamed at them to be silent. Sparks showered off the blast door under attack by the Jedi, and a red spot appeared at its center where the larger man plunged his lightsaber into the metal almost up to its hilt.

  The viewscreen suddenly went blank. At the center of the door, the metal began to turn molten and drop away.

  “They’re still coming,” Rune Haako whispered, gathering his robes as he backed away further.

  Viceroy Nute Gunray said nothing in response. Impossible! he was thinking. Impossible!

  Qui-Gon was hammering at the blast door with every ounce of strength he possessed, determined to break through to the treacherous Neimoidians, when his instincts warned him of danger from another quarter.