Automatically, Obi-Wan grabbed hold of the loosened wire as he fell into the wind-whipped rain, feeling with the Force for the other end that Jango must have just released. For an eternal instant, he could not find it. Then he had it, and the Force sent it sideways among the great columns that supported the landing platform, to wrap around a cross beam. The wire cut into his hands again as he came to the end of it, but it was better than falling into the angry waves and being smashed against the support columns. He held on and swung under the landing platform.
Below him and a little ahead, he saw a small shelf—probably some sort of service platform—just above the waves. Thankfully, he let go of the wire and dropped onto it. Sure enough, there was a service door. Obi-Wan waved it open and charged up the stairs inside.
He arrived at the landing platform just as Fett’s ship lifted to hover a few meters above the ground—the first step in takeoff. He barely had time to snatch a small magnetic tracker from his belt pouch and hurl it at the ship. Then Slave I took off, racing for the sky—but even through the pelting rain, Obi-Wan had heard the clank of the device attaching firmly to the ship’s hull. With a relieved sigh, he picked up his lightsaber. All he had to do now was follow.
Tatooine hadn’t changed. It was hot and dry—Anakin was surprised to find that he felt a little too hot; apparently, he was more used to cooler worlds now than he had realized. But the same motley collection of shady-looking beings made their way between the same blocky, sand-colored buildings, along the same packed-sand streets. He could have walked to Watto’s junk shop blindfolded.
Yet he didn’t feel…comfortable. Perhaps the problem was that he could see now how shoddy and backward this world was. He remembered how shocked Padmé had been to discover that he was Watto’s slave; now he understood why.
Watto hadn’t changed, either. The fat little Toydarian’s first reaction to seeing a Jedi Padawan was “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it!” But he seemed pleased to see Anakin, once he recognized him, and he was willing to help.
“Shmi’s not mine no more,” he told Anakin. “I sold her to a moisture farmer named Lars. I heard he freed her and married her. Can you beat that?” Watto’s trunklike nose wrinkled in evident amazement that anyone would pay good money for a slave in order to turn around and free her, no matter how he felt. “Long way from here—someplace over on the other side of Mos Eisley.”
So Anakin and Padmé took the little Naboo starship they had borrowed and flew to Mos Eisley. The directions Watto had given them were easy enough to follow, and by late afternoon they were landing near a small homestead outside the city.
They left R2-D2 with the ship and started toward the buildings. A human-shaped droid straightened up from a condenser as they approached. “How may I be of service? I am See—”
“Threepio?” Anakin said, grinning and noticing that the Protocol Droid he had created now had coverings.
“Oh, my,” said C-3PO, cocking his head to one side. “Oh, my maker! Master Anakin! I knew you would return.”
“I’ve come to see my mother,” Anakin told him.
C-3PO froze, as if his power had been suddenly disconnected. Anakin felt a sudden lump of fear in his throat. Something is very wrong. I knew it. C-3PO twitched and said, “I think—I think—Perhaps we’d better go indoors.”
Anakin followed, torn between wanting to know what had happened and being afraid to hear what it was. C-3PO led them down to the sunken courtyard and introduced Anakin to Owen Lars and his girlfriend, Beru. Owen was a stocky young man who already had the quiet, solid look of a farmer; Beru had a practical air that was enhanced by the neat blonde braids that wrapped her head.
“I guess I’m your stepbrother,” Owen said. “I had a feeling you might show up someday.”
“Is my mother here?” Anakin burst out, unable to bear wasting more time being polite.
“No, she’s not,” said a grim voice.
Anakin turned. A small floating chair moved out of the main house. In it was a large older man who resembled Owen. One of his legs was wrapped in new bandages. The other leg was missing entirely.
“Cliegg Lars,” the man said by way of introduction, extending one hand awkwardly. “Shmi is my wife. Come on inside. We have a lot to talk about.”
Just tell me where Mom is! Anakin thought angrily, but he couldn’t shout at a man in a float chair. So he followed Cliegg into the house, to the underground dining area. Beru served steaming cups of ardees while Cliegg began his story.
“It was just before dawn,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “They came out of nowhere. A hunting party of Tusken Raiders—”
Anakin’s mind shut off. Tatooine was controlled by the Hutt criminal organization; it was a haven for smugglers, thieves, and other lowlifes. But even on Tatooine, the Tusken Raiders were considered vicious. They tortured people for fun, and they had his mother? He felt cold. No, Mom, no…
Cliegg was still talking. Anakin heard only snatches. “Thirty of us went out after her…I couldn’t ride anymore…This isn’t the way…been gone a month.” Anakin forced his attention back to the present, just as Cliegg finished heavily, “There’s little hope she’s lasted this long.”
You don’t have my nightmares, Anakin thought. He stared around the table, seeing the shocked sympathy on Padmé’s face, the hopeless grief on Cliegg’s, the wary hope on Owen’s. They all seemed far away, almost unreal, separated from him by the icy fear that had settled around his heart. Abruptly, he stood up.
“Where are you going?” Owen asked.
“To find my mother.” He hardly heard Padmé’s protest, or Cliegg’s objections. “I can feel her pain, and I will find her.”
They stared at him for a moment, then Owen said, “Take my speeder bike,” and Anakin felt a distant warmth. Owen, at least, understood.
“I know she’s alive,” he said to that small, faraway understanding. Then he turned and went out. He’d seen a swoop bike near the stairs as they came down; that must be the one Owen meant.
As he reached the top of the steps, Padmé came running out. Before she could say anything, before she could ask him to let her come with him or, worse yet, ask him not to go, he said, “You are going to have to stay here. These are good people, Padmé. You’ll be safe.” She had to be safe. He needed to have something to come back to if…after he found his mother.
Padmé looked at him for a moment, and he was afraid she would argue, but she only said his name and hugged him. It almost cracked the ice that had settled around his heart. He wanted to smile at her, but he couldn’t. “I won’t be long,” he said as he swung onto the swoop bike.
He started off across the desert. The noise of the speeder bike drowned out other sounds and the dusty wake behind it hid Padmé and the Lars homestead from sight almost immediately.
Hang on, Mom. I’m coming.
Although the tracking device was working fine, Obi-Wan pushed his Delta-7 starfighter to top speed as he followed Slave I. He didn’t want Jango Fett to get out of range. He had almost caught up when they reached a planetary system—the ship’s databanks said it was called Geonosis—and the tracking signal vanished.
They seem to have discovered the tracker. Cautiously, Obi-Wan scanned the area. Fett had hidden in an asteroid belt. As soon as he realized Obi-Wan had found him again, he started releasing sonic charges. The two ships dodged and wove through the asteroids, firing at each other and trying to avoid a crash. This is why I hate flying, Obi-Wan thought, and then Fett connected and he was too busy struggling with the controls to think.
Fett’s ship was larger and more heavily armed than Obi-Wan’s; the next missile was a guided torpedo. Following Fett openly into the asteroid field had been a mistake, Obi-Wan decided as he swerved in and out among the asteroids in a vain attempt to lose the torpedo. It was time to try something tricky.
He picked out a large asteroid and headed straight into it at top speed. The torpedo followed mindlessly.
“Arfour, prepare to jettison the spare parts canisters,” Obi-Wan said as they approached. The little droid beeped acknowledgment. Obi-Wan relaxed into the Force, sensing for the exact right moment. “Release them now!” he commanded, and whipped the starfighter up and sideways.
The torpedo struck the asteroid behind him in a huge explosion that flung rock and the spare parts back into space. Obi-Wan ducked into one of the craters on the far side of the asteroid and shut down his power systems. With luck, Fett would be sure that the Jedi’s ship had crashed and exploded, but Obi-Wan wasn’t going to take chances. The bounty hunter might be clever enough to do a scan for power systems, just to make sure Obi-Wan’s starfighter had really been destroyed.
He waited for what seemed like hours, then cautiously brought the power systems back up and took off. There was no sign of Jango Fett. With a relieved sigh, Obi-Wan sent his starfighter along Fett’s last known route, down toward the planet of Geonosis.
Geonosis was a bare, rocky world. Dusty red mesas baked by day and froze by night. R4’s projection of Jango Fett’s course took them to the night side. Obi-Wan saw no sign of cities, only huge stone spires that looked like stalagmites. But stalagmites can only be built up inside, in caves, Obi-Wan thought. And it looks as if Fett was heading right for that one. Hmmm.
At the edge of a small mesa near the stone spire, Obi-Wan found a rock ledge that stuck out far enough to hide his starfighter. Carefully, he maneuvered his ship into the gap underneath and landed. He double-checked his bearings, then started walking.
At the top of the trail, Obi-Wan paused. Pulling out a pair of electronic binoculars, he studied the plain around the strange spire. Definitely not natural, he thought, and…what’s that? He brought the view back and saw a number of Trade Federation Core Ships parked in neat rows beside the spire. As he watched, a gap opened in the ground at one side as a lift platform dropped; a moment later, it returned, carrying row upon row of skeletal Battle Droids. There must be a factory underground. I need to get a closer look.
Sneaking into the spires was much easier than he had expected. The Core Ships and Battle Droids clustered around one side, probably the front; all Obi-Wan had to do was to climb up the back and slip in through a window. The interior was like a hive, full of narrow corridors that opened suddenly into huge spaces. Several times, he sensed someone coming barely in time to duck behind a pillar or into a doorway.
He reached a vast open area, high and wide and apparently deserted. As he was about to cross, he heard voices and darted behind a pillar.
A mixed group emerged from one of the corridors and started across the square. There were several tall, insectlike Geonosians and a number of off-worlders. Obi-Wan blinked in surprise as he recognized two of them: Nute Gunray, the Trade Federation Viceroy who had led the attack on Naboo ten years before, and the former Jedi, Count Dooku! He leaned forward to catch what they were saying.
“—persuade the Commerce Guild and the Corporate Alliance to sign the treaty,” Count Dooku intoned.
“What about the Senator from Naboo?” Nute Gunray said, his wide mouth twisting. “Is she dead yet? I’m not signing your treaty until I have her head on my desk.”
“I am a man of my word, Viceroy,” Dooku replied.
Nute Gunray and Count Dooku are behind the assassination attempts! Padmé was right. Obi-Wan slipped through the shadows to the next pillar, hoping to get close enough to hear more, but one of the Geonosians began talking about the Battle Droids and then they passed through an arched doorway and out of earshot.
I need to find out what they’re up to. Obi-Wan checked quickly to see if anyone else was coming, then crossed to a stairway next to the door. He was in luck; the stairs led to a long gallery overlooking the room below. Dooku seemed to be having a major conference; in addition to Nute Gunray and the Geonosians, Obi-Wan recognized several of the Senators who supported the Separatist movement, as well as representatives from the Commerce Guild and the Intergalactic Bank Clan.
As he listened to their conversation, Obi-Wan frowned. The Corporate Alliance and the Trade Federation—and their huge droid armies—were joining the Separatists. It looked as if Dooku really did mean to start a civil war. Master Yoda must know about this at once, Obi-Wan thought. He snuck back down the stairs and headed toward his ship.
It was after midnight when Anakin finally parked the speeder bike at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Tusken camp. He knew it was the right place. He had felt himself drawing nearer all night, just as he could feel his mother now in one of the hide-covered huts below. Her pain—he forced himself to stop trembling. I’m almost there, Mom.
Pulling his hood over his head, he crept down and into the camp. The Tusken Raiders had posted two guards at the front of the hut, but Anakin had never intended to walk in through the door. Carefully, he made his way through the shadows to the back of the hut. After checking to make sure no one was near, he lit his lightsaber.
The hide wall gave way quickly, and in a few moments he was inside. Moonlight fell through the smoke-hole in the roof, making it just possible to see the spent candles that littered the floor, the wooden frame in the center of the hut…and the figure of a woman hanging from the frame.
Without conscious thought, Anakin swung his lightsaber, and the ropes that held her parted. Dropping the weapon, he caught her as she fell. Even in the moonlight, he could see bruises on her face and arms; her eyes were swollen almost shut, and there was blood—he couldn’t look at the blood, he wouldn’t see it. “Mom,” he said desperately. “Mom!”
His mother’s eyes opened. “Annie?” she said in a faint, hoarse voice. “Is it you?”
Anakin choked, feeling the pain of her injuries even more clearly now that he was holding her. She’s…she’s…I have to get her home! “I’m here, Mom,” he said urgently. “You’re safe. Hang on.” Please, please hang on! “I’m going to get you out of here.”
But Shmi didn’t seem to hear his words. Her eyes had finally focused on his face, and her battered features relaxed in an expression of tenderness. “Annie? You look so handsome. My son…my grown-up son.” She gasped and went on with evident difficulty. “I’m so proud of you, Annie. So proud.” Her voice grew fainter; Anakin had to strain to hear the words. “I missed you so much. Now I am complete.”
“Just stay with me, Mom,” Anakin begged. The icy fear was closing around his heart again. “I’m going to make you well again. Everything’s going to be fine.” He reached for the Force as he spoke; surely he could do something that would help, that would ease the terrible pain he felt in her, that would give strength back to the life he could feel fading away between his arms. Something that would give her more time. The Force was there, but he didn’t know how to use it for this.
Shmi tried to smile at him. She whispered, “I love…” and went horribly, finally still.
Anakin stared at her numbly. After a moment, he reached over and closed her eyes. The Tusken Raiders did this. Animals, Cliegg called them—they’re worse than animals. They’re…they’re…vicious, mind less, murdering things. I’ll show them! I’ll get them all!
Oh, Mom. Mom…
After worrying through most of the night, Padmé heard Beru shouting outside. “He’s back! He’s back!” She ran outside in time to see Anakin land the swoop bike. He’s all right! she thought, and then she saw his face as he lifted his mother’s body from the bike, and wondered if he would ever be all right again.
Anakin said nothing to anyone; he took Shmi’s body inside the homestead and then went out to the workroom alone. He is in pain, Padmé thought. She frowned in worry at the closed workroom door for a long time. Then she went to the kitchen and set up a tray of food. If Anakin wouldn’t come out, she’d go in after him.
When she carried the tray into the workroom, Anakin was fiddling with a welder and some parts. He didn’t look up.
“I brought you something,” Padmé said.
Anakin stayed bent over the w
orkbench. “The shifter broke,” he said in a tense voice that she hardly recognized. “Life seems so much simpler when you’re fixing things.” His face tightened. “I’m good at fixing things. But I couldn’t—” He slammed the parts down on the bench and looked up, and Padmé saw tears in his eyes. “Why did she have to die?” he demanded. “Why couldn’t I save her? I know I could have!”
“Sometimes there are things no one can fix,” Padmé said gently. “You’re not all-powerful, Annie.”
“I should be!” Anakin said, suddenly angry. “Someday I will be! I will be the most powerful Jedi ever! I will even learn to stop people from dying.”
Padmé could feel the emotions swirling around him: hurt, frustration, anger, grief…and fear. It frightened her, but she didn’t know what to do about it. Uncertainly, she said, “Anakin—”
“It’s all Obi-Wan’s fault!” Anakin shouted. “He’s jealous! He knows I’m already more powerful than he is. He’s holding me back!” He hurled his wrench across the room, and Padmé stared, shocked. His hands were trembling; he looked at them as if they belonged to someone else.
This isn’t just about his mother. There’s something else going on. Padmé took a deep breath. “Annie, what’s wrong?”
“I—I killed them,” Anakin whispered, and Padmé went cold. “I killed them all. They’re dead, every single one of them. Not just the men. The women and the children, too.” He looked up at last, his face working, and Padmé had to force herself not to back away from the look in his eyes. “They’re like animals,” he spat, “and I slaughtered them like animals. I hate them!” Then the angry mask crumbled away, and he broke into sobs.
Without thinking, Padmé stepped forward and cradled him in her arms. Part of her was still shocked and horrified—Women and children? My Anakin killed them all?—and she knew she ought to tell him so. But she couldn’t bear to add to his grief.
Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones Page 8