Jedi Quest: Path to Truth

by Jude Watson

  Star Wars

  Jedi Quest

  Path to Truth

  by Jude Watson

  source: IRC

  uploaded: 09.I.2006

  PROLOGUE

  No one on Tatooine could remember a day this fine. The two suns shone,

  but their rays did not blister the skin. The wind blew, but it was a gentle

  wind that did not bring choking dust and sand. The normally brutal climate

  had loosened its grip. Most of the moisture farmers, smugglers, and slaves

  of Tatooine didn't have the time or energy to look up from their hard lives

  to notice it.

  Seven-year-old Anakin Skywalker did. When his mother, Shmi, opened the

  windows at dawn, the two of them stood breathing in the fresh air with

  wonder. For the first time in a long while, Anakin considered himself

  lucky. Today the weather was good, and he had his first afternoon off.

  Day after day he was cooped up in Watto's junk shop. He was a slave,

  but it wasn't the worst job he could imagine. He learned about hyperspace

  engines and power converters and droid motivators. He could assemble a

  reactivate switch blindfolded. The only trouble was, he had to work for the

  Toydarian Watto, whose temper and greed constantly surprised Anakin,

  growing worse by the day.

  Anakin crammed his breakfast in his mouth as he hurried through the

  crowded streets of Mos Espa toward Watto's shop. He broke into a run,

  sliding easily between two careening eopies. Today Watto had to make a

  journey to Anchorhead. He had heard of a spectacular crash between two sand

  skimmers and a space frigate, and he was anxious to be first to bid for the

  parts.

  The trip placed Watto in a bind, for his excitement at the thought of

  striking a deal battled with his irritation at closing the store for a day.

  All week the air had been full of the angry buzzing of Watto's wings and

  his muttered comments about how life was unfair to hardworking beings like

  him.

  Watto couldn't bear to lose money, even for a day, but he didn't trust

  Anakin to run the shop. Neither could he bear to give his slave a day off.

  So Watto had left Anakin a long list of chores to do, a list long enough to

  guarantee that Anakin would be in the closed shop from sunrise to sundown.

  What Watto didn't count on was that Anakin had friends to help him.

  Not living beings - everyone he knew his age was a slave, too. Anakin

  considered droids his friends, and he knew that with their help he could

  get his chores done in half the time.

  As soon as he reached the shop, he programmed the droids and got to

  work. Many of the droids were old models or half fixed, but he managed to

  keep them going. By midday, the chores were done.

  Anakin picked up the pack Shmi had filled with meat pies and fruit

  that morning. He hurried all the way back to where he lived, breathing deep

  lungfuls of air as he ran. His friend Amee was a house slave for a rich

  Toong couple. They gave her one afternoon off a month. This was it.

  Amee waited outside on the steps of her dwelling in the crowded,

  layered stack of hovels in Mos Espa. Her chestnut hair was worn in a

  braided crown around her head. She had woven some yellow flowers through

  her braids. It added to the holiday feeling of this day. Her thin face,

  usually so serious, looked almost pretty as she smiled.

  "I've never been on a picnic," she said. "Mother says she used to go

  on them when she was a girl." Amee's mother, Hala, opened the door and

  smiled at Anakin. Her job was to work on transmitter parts at home. "I'm

  glad you'll both get to enjoy the day. Don't go far."

  "I know just the spot," Anakin told her.

  Amee followed him through the crowded lanes and streets of Mos Espa.

  There were even more beings packed in the streets today. Amee and Anakin

  had learned how to move through the streets almost invisibly, avoiding the

  fierce tempers of the spacers and smugglers.

  Anakin knew exactly where they should share their picnic, even though

  he'd never been on one, either. He had found the spot weeks before while

  searching for junked parts on the outskirts of the spaceport.

  Tatooine's hills were sandy and barren, but nestled among them Anakin

  had discovered a small canyon. There, he found a tree with flickering

  green-gold leaves. He had never seen the species before, and it was the

  first time he had seen such a color in a natural form. Tatooine was a land

  of variations of beige and tan.

  The tree was scrawny and struggled to survive, but when you sat

  underneath it and closed your eyes, you could hear the rustle of dry

  leaves. On a day like today, with the air so fresh, you could almost

  pretend you were on a beautiful green planet.

  "It's perfect," Amee breathed.

  They feasted on Shmi's meat pies and Hala's turnovers. They drank

  sweet juice and planned their futures, which always included Anakin

  liberating all the slaves on Tatooine. The sun slid lower in the sky.

  Suddenly, the afternoon was over.

  "I guess we'd better get back," Anakin said reluctantly.

  "I hate being a slave," Amee said. She shoved the food wrappings into

  her pack with unusual force.

  There wasn't any reply Anakin could make. They all hated being slaves.

  Anakin vowed that someday Shmi would live a soft, pleasant life, filled

  with leisure and good things to eat, just like this day. He would see to

  it.

  He and Amee slogged through the sandy hills and down into the streets

  of Mos Espa. To their surprise, the streets were now almost empty, the food

  stalls shuttered.

  "What's going on?" Anakin wondered. "It's like there's a sandstorm

  coming, but the air is so clear."

  As they got closer to their homes, their unease increased. On the

  outskirts, they saw shattered entrances and wreckage in the street. They

  passed a man crying into his hands. Sobs shook his thin shoulders.

  Anakin and Amee exchanged a wordless glance. The fear that always

  hummed under the surface of their lives sparked and became a living

  current. Something was very wrong.

  A woman ran by them, her eyes streaming tears. "Elza!" she screamed.

  "Elza!"

  "Elza Monimi," Amee said, panic beginning to shade her voice. "He's

  our neighbor. What's happening?"

  They began to run. Every other house seemed to be damaged. Beings

  mingled in the streets, asking one another for news of daughters, sons,

  mothers, whole families. They heard a whispered name, a name repeated over

  and over in tones of dread and horror.

  Anakin stopped a neighbor, Titi Chronelle. "What happened?"

  "Slave raid," Titi told him. "Pirates. Led by Krayn. With blasters and

  restraining devices. They have transmitters that override our own. They can

  steal whoever they want. Many were taken." Titi spoke in short bursts, as

  if he could not manage a whole sentence.

  Anakin felt his own breat
h leave him. "My mother?" Titi looked at him

  sadly before rushing on. "I don't know."

  Without another word, Amee took off toward her own dwelling. Anakin

  ran, his heart bursting, his legs pumping. He charged into his home. He

  looked around wildly.

  Everything seemed the same. But where was Shmi?

  Then he saw her in the corner. Her knees were drawn up against her

  chest, her head buried. As he started toward her, she jerked her head up.

  For a moment, he saw sheer terror in her face. Shock paralyzed him. He

  had never seen his mother afraid. For him, she was the image of calm

  strength. She held all the terrors of life at bay for him.

  As she took in his expression, the wild look in her eyes instantly

  disappeared. The warm light he knew so well came back. She held out her

  arms to him, and he rushed to her.

  "I didn't know where you were," she said.

  He felt her strong arms surround him and buried his face in the

  familiar scent of her clothes. She rocked him gently.

  "You're shaking," she said. "Hush, Annie. We're both safe."

  Somehow he knew that the terror he'd seen on her face was not just

  because she could not find him. It was because of what she had seen. Of

  what had almost happened to her.

  But that fear, the fear that his mother could disappear, that she

  could be hurt or killed, that she could be at the mercy of her own terror,

  was just too great for him to face. He pushed the thought of her anguished

  face away and breathed in her warmth, felt the strength and gentleness of

  her hands soothing him. Instantly, the shaking stopped. He told himself he

  had not seen her vulnerability. His mother could not be vanquished. She

  could not be taken. She could not be hurt. The core of her was strength.

  She could keep them both safe. That was his reality. Somehow Anakin knew

  that if he acknowledged Shmi's fear he would close the door on his own

  childhood. He wasn't ready to do that. He was seven years old. He needed

  her too much.

  Outside, they heard voices. A deep voice calling, trying to override a

  high, frightened one.

  "Amee! Come back!"

  "Where's my mother?"

  Anakin looked up. "It's Amee."

  Shmi's grip on him tightened. "Hala was taken by the slave raiders."

  He looked into her face. The terror was gone, but sadness was there

  now, deep sadness and compassion, and also something else, something remote

  that he could not decipher. As though she knew something he did not, and

  would not tell him - he did not want or need to know.

  "It is a terrible thing to be a slave on Tatooine, Annie," Shmi

  whispered. "But it could be far, far worse for us."

  She pushed his hair off his forehead. The remote look left her eyes.

  "But you are safe," she said in a firm voice. "We are together. Now, come.

  Let us do what we can to comfort Amee and her father."

  Anakin rose. He stood on the threshold of his dwelling for a moment,

  watching Shmi cross to console Amee and her father. Owners were now walking

  among the milling beings, checking on the slaves. Anakin saw Hala's owner,

  Yor Millto. Millto was checking off something on a datapad.

  "A nuisance, to lose Hala," he said to his assistant. "This will cost

  me. But she wasn't highly skilled. Easy to replace."

  Anakin's gaze went to Amee. Her face was buried in Shmi's robes, and

  her thin shoulders shook with her wracking sobs. Hala's husband sat nearby,

  his face in his hands.

  Easy to replace...

  Pain tore through Anakin, pain he did not want to face.

  He made a vow. He knew he had an extraordinary memory. Organization

  and learning came easily to him. He would use that power to sear this

  memory into his mind and heart. When he needed this, he would recall every

  detail - the exact shade of blue of the sky, the heartbreaking quality of

  Amee's uncontrollable sobs.

  There was only one thing he would train his mind not to recall, one

  thing he never wanted to see again, even in memory - the terror he had

  glimpsed on his mother's face.

  CHAPTER 1

  SIX YEARS LATER

  Obi-Wan Kenobi squinted through the viewscreen of the small, sleek

  craft, a transport on loan from the Senate. Mist swirled around and below

  him. He could not see a landing site.

  "Anything?" Anakin asked. With zero visibility, his Padawan was using

  instruments to pilot the transport. That, and his sure connection to the

  Force. At only thirteen years of age, Anakin was already an expert pilot,

  even better than Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan would be the first to admit it.

  "Not yet. The mist will clear in a moment." He hoped. He knew that the

  craggy peaks of the ice mountains were close. The trick was to find a

  landing site.

  "And then will you tell me why we're here?" Anakin asked.

  "All in good time." Obi-Wan noted that the mist was beginning to thin.

  Patches of a lighter gray streaked through the clouds. Suddenly, as the

  craft lowered, the icy peaks appeared, looming out of the clouds, a flash

  of silver against a sea of gray.

  Obi-Wan consulted the coordinates for his destination, then searched

  the crags for a likely landing spot. All he could see around him was the

  blinding white of ice and snow. He knew that the seemingly sheer

  mountainsides concealed ledges and hidden caves. Sheets of ice made for

  treacherous possibilities.

  At last he spotted a ledge that was protected from the wind. It was

  clear of snow and he saw only isolated patches of ice. It would be a tight

  fit, and there was always the danger the craft would slide on the ice

  straight off the ledge, but he knew his Padawan could do it

  "There," he told Anakin, and gave the coordinates. The boy looked at

  him, surprised. "Really?"

  "You can do it."

  "I know I can do it," Anakin said. "I'm just wondering why you want me

  to."

  "Because it's an easy climb to our destination from there."

  Anakin flipped switches to begin the landing procedures. "And I know

  better than to ask what that is."

  Obi-Wan sat back and watched in admiration as, with cool nerves and a

  steady hand, Anakin expertly maneuvered the ship into the tight space. He

  set the ship down as gently as if their landing pad were a nest of kroyie

  eggs. There would be just enough room to activate the hatch and clamber

  out.

  Anakin looked out the viewscreen at the sheer icy cliffs surrounding

  them. "Can you tell me what this planet is, at least?"

  "Ilum," Obi-Wan answered, watching his Padawan's expression carefully.

  The name brought a spark of recognition to Anakin's face. His bright

  eyes flashed. Still, he kept his tone guarded. "I see."

  "We are not here on a mission," Obi-Wan continued. "It is a quest. It

  is here that you will gather the crystals to fashion your own lightsaber."

  Anakin's sober face cracked with the grin that Obi-Wan had come to

  look forward to seeing, a smile that radiated pleasure and hope.

  "Thank you for this honor," he said.

  "You are ready," Obi-Wan replied.

  "The Council thinks so?" Anakin asked.

  I
t was a shrewd question. As a matter of fact, the Council was divided

  on Anakin Skywalker's readiness to take on the full rights of a Jedi. There

  were those who thought he had come to Jedi training too late. They worried

  about the anger and fear that he pushed away deep inside him. They worried

  about his early life as a slave, about his fierce ties to the mother who

  had let him go.

  Yoda and Mace Windu were among those who were cautious, and who had

  given Obi-Wan many uneasy moments. He respected their viewpoint too much to

  discount it completely.

  But his promise to his former Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, was more

  important. Qui-Gon had been dead for four years now, but he was such a

  vivid presence in Obi-Wan's life that he considered their bond just as

  strong. Taking on Anakin as his Padawan was not only a vow to his beloved

  former Master, but also the right thing to do.

  In the end, Obi-Wan had to trust his own instincts. Yoda and Mace

  Windu must trust them, too. He had lobbied hard in order to bring his

  Padawan here, and finally, the Council could not oppose him.

  He hoped his decision was the right one. In his short time at the

  Temple, Anakin's progress had been astonishing. By everything that was

  measurable, he exceeded expectations. He was at the top of his class in