Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace Read online

  Amidala did not seem convinced. “Valorum has been our strongest supporter. Is there no other way?”

  Palpatine stood before her. “Our only other choice would be to submit the matter to the courts—”

  “There is no time for that,” the Queen interrupted quickly, a hint of anger in her voice. “The courts take even longer to decide things than the Senate.” She shifted purposefully, an edge sharpening her words further. “Our people are dying—more and more each day. We must do something quickly. We must stop the Trade Federation before this gets any worse.”

  Palpatine gave Amidala a stern look. “To be realistic about the matter, Your Highness, I believe we are going to have to accept Trade Federation control as an accomplished fact—for the time being, at least.”

  The Queen shook her head slowly. “That is something I cannot do, Senator.”

  They faced each other in the silence that followed, eyes locked, and Anakin Skywalker, hiding behind the door without, found himself wondering suddenly what had become of Qui-Gon Jinn.

  Unlike other buildings in the vast sprawl of Coruscant, the Jedi Temple stood alone. A colossal pyramid with multiple spires rising skyward from its flat top, it sat apart from everything at the end of a broad promenade linking it with bulkier, sharper-edged towers in which solitude and mediation were less likely to be found. Within the Temple were housed the Jedi Knights and their students, the whole of the order engaged in contemplation and study of the Force, in codification of its dictates and mastery of its disciplines, and in training to serve the greater good it embodied.

  The Jedi Council room dominated a central portion of the complex. The Council itself was in session, its doors closed, its proceedings hidden from the eyes and ears of all but fourteen people. Twelve of them—some human, some nonhuman—comprised the Council, a diverse and seasoned group who had gravitated to the order from both ends of the galaxy. The final two Jedi, who were guests of the Council this afternoon, were Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

  The seats of the twelve Council members formed a circle facing inward to where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood, the former relating the events of the past few weeks, the latter a step behind his Master, listening attentively. The room was circular and domed, supported by graceful pillars spaced between broad windows open to the city and the light. The shape of the room and the Council seating reflected the Jedi belief in the equality of and interconnection between all things. In the world of the Jedi, the balance of life within the Force was the pathway to understanding and peace.

  Qui-Gon studied the faces of his listeners as he spoke, each of them familiar to him. Most were Jedi Masters like himself, among them Yoda and Mace Windu, seniors in rank among those seated. They were more compliant in the ways of the Jedi order than he had ever been or would probably ever be.

  He stood apart in the mosaic circle that formed a speaker’s platform for those who addressed the Council, his tall, broad form and deep voice commanding the attention of those gathered, his blue eyes fixing them each in turn, constantly searching for a reaction to his words. They watched him carefully—stately Ki-Adi-Mundi, young and beautiful Adi Gallia, slender Depa Billaba, crested and marble-faced Even Piell, and all the others, each different and unique in appearance, each with something vital to offer as a representative of the Council.

  Qui-Gon brought his eyes back to Mace Windu and Yoda, the ones he must convince, the ones most respected and powerful of those who sat in judgment.

  “My conclusion,” he finished quietly, his story completed, “is that the one who attacked me on Tatooine is a Sith Lord.”

  The silence that followed was palpable. Then there was a stirring of brown robes, a shifting of bodies and limbs. Glances were exchanged and murmurs of disbelief quickly voiced.

  “A Sith Lord?” Mace Windu repeated with a growl, leaning forward. He was a strong, dark-skinned man with a shaved head and penetrating eyes, smooth-faced despite his years.

  “Impossible!” Ki-Adi-Mundi snapped irritably, not bothering to hide his dismay at the suggestion. “The Sith have been gone for a millennium!”

  Yoda shifted only slightly in his chair, a small and wizened presence in the company of much larger beings, his eyes gone to slits like a contented sand panther’s, his whiskery wrinkled face turned toward Qui-Gon’s thoughtfully.

  “Threatened, the Republic is, if the Sith are involved,” he observed in his soft, gravelly voice.

  The others began to mutter anew among themselves. Qui-Gon said nothing, waiting them out. They had believed the Sith destroyed. They had believed them consumed by their own lust for power. He could feel Obi-Wan shift uncomfortably at his shoulder, having trouble maintaining his silence.

  Mace Windu leaned back heavily, his strong brow furrowing. “This is difficult to accept, Qui-Gon. I do not understand how the Sith could have returned without us knowing.”

  “Hard to see, the dark side is,” Yoda said with a small snort. “Discover who this assassin is, we must.”

  “Perhaps he will reveal himself again,” Ki-Adi-Mundi suggested with a nod to Qui-Gon.

  “Yes,” Mace Windu agreed. “This attack was with purpose, that much is clear. The Queen is his target. Since he failed once, he may try again.”

  Yoda lifted one skinny arm, pointing at Qui-Gon. “With this Naboo Queen, you must stay, Qui-Gon. Protect her, you must.”

  The others murmured their approval, evidencing the confidence they felt in the Jedi Master’s abilities. Still Qui-Gon said nothing.

  “We shall use all our resources to unravel this mystery and discover the identity of your attacker,” Mace Windu advised. One hand lifted in dismissal. “May the Force be with you, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

  “May the Force be with you,” Yoda echoed.

  Obi-Wan turned to leave. He stopped when Qui-Gon did not follow, but instead remained standing before the Council. Obi-Wan held his breath, knowing what was coming.

  Yoda cocked his head questioningly. “More to say, have you, Qui-Gon Jinn?”

  “With your permission, my Master,” the Jedi replied, gaze steady. “I have encountered a vergence in the Force.”

  Yoda’s eyes widened slightly. “A vergence, you say?”

  “Located around a person?” Mace Windu asked quickly.

  Qui-Gon nodded. “A boy. His cells have the highest concentration of midi-chlorians I have ever seen in a lifeform.” He paused. “It is possible he was conceived by midi-chlorians.”

  There was a shocked silence this time. Qui-Gon Jinn was suggesting the impossible, that the boy was conceived not by human contact, but by the essence of all life, by the connectors to the Force itself, the midi-chlorians. Comprising collective consciousness and intelligence, the midi-chlorians formed the link between everything living and the Force.

  But there was more that troubled the Jedi Council. There was a prophecy, so old its origins had long since been lost, that a chosen one would appear, imbued with an abundance of midi-chlorians, a being strong with the Force and destined to alter it forever.

  It was Mace Windu who gave voice to the Council’s thoughts. “You refer to the prophecy,” he said quietly. “Of the one who will bring balance to the Force. You believe it is this boy.”

  Qui-Gon hesitated. “I don’t presume—”

  “But you do!” Yoda snapped challengingly. “Revealed, your opinion is, Qui-Gon!”

  The Jedi Master took a deep breath. “I request the boy be tested.”

  Again, there was silence as the members of the Council exchanged glances, communicating without words.

  Eyes shifted back to Qui-Gon. “To be trained as a Jedi, you request for him?” Yoda asked softly.

  “Finding him was the will of the Force.” Qui-Gon pressed ahead recklessly. “I have no doubt of it. There is too much happening here for it to be anything else.”

  Mace Windu held up one hand, bringing the debate to a close. “Bring him before us, then.”

  Yoda nodded somberly, eyes closing. “Tested, he
will be.”

  “It is time to be going, Your Majesty,” Senator Palpatine advised, moving to gather up a pile of data cards from his desk.

  Queen Amidala rose, and Anakin hurried back to his seat beside Jar Jar, giving the Gungan another warning glance for good measure. Jar Jar looked hurt.

  “Me not gonna tell dem,” he protested.

  A moment later Palpatine ushered the Queen and her handmaidens from his office and into the antechamber where the boy and the Gungan sat waiting. The senator went by them without a glance and was out the door immediately.

  Queen Amidala slowed just a fraction as she passed Anakin.

  “Why don’t you come with us,” the handmaiden Rabé said without looking at him, her voice a whisper. “This time you won’t have to listen from behind a door.”

  Anakin and Jar Jar exchanged a startled, chagrined look, then rose and followed after.

  While the others waited without, Queen Amidala, accompanied by her handmaidens, retreated to her chambers long enough to change into yet another ensemble, this one clearly meant to emphasize her status as leader of the Naboo. She emerged wearing a broad-shouldered cloak of crimson velvet trimmed with gold lace and a crown of woven cloth horns and tassels with a center plate of hammered gold. The gown and headdress lent both size and majesty, and she walked past a wondering Anakin and Jar Jar as if come down out of the clouds to mix with mortals, all cool grace and extraordinary beauty, aloof and untouchable.

  Eirtaé and Rabé, the handmaidens who had accompanied her earlier, were present again, and they trailed the Queen in a silent glide, wrapped in their crimson hooded robes. Again Anakin looked for Padmé and did not find her.

  “Please lead the way,” Amidala requested of Palpatine, beckoning the boy, the Gungan, and Captain Panaka to accompany them.

  They walked from Palpatine’s quarters down a series of corridors that connected to other chambers and, eventually, to other buildings. The halls were empty of almost everyone, save for a scattering of Republic guards, and the company proceeded unchallenged. Anakin glanced around in awe at the tall ceilings and high windows, at the forest of buildings visible without, imagining what it would be like to live in a place like Coruscant.

  When they reached the Senate chamber, he had cause to wonder anew.

  The chamber had the look of an arena, circular and massive, with doors opening off exterior rampways at various levels above the main floor. At the center of the chamber a tall, slender column supported the supreme chancellor’s platform, a broad, semienclosed area that allowed Valorum, who was already present, to sit or stand as he chose in the company of his vice chair and staff. All around the smooth interior walls of the arena, Senate boxes jutted from hangar bays off entry doors, some fixed in place while their senators conferred with staff and visitors, others floating just off their moorings. When a senator requested permission to speak and was recognized by the chair, his box would float to the center of the arena, close to the supreme chancellor’s podium, where it remained until the speech was concluded.

  Anakin picked up on all this in a matter of seconds, trailing the Queen and Palpatine to the entry doors opening onto the Naboo Senate box, which sat waiting at its docking. Banners and curtains hung from the rounded ceiling in brilliant streamers, and indirect lighting glowed softly from every corner, brightening the rotunda’s cavernous interior. Droids bustled along the exterior rampways, carrying messages from one delegation to the next, the movement of their metal bodies giving the chamber the look of a complex piece of machinery.

  “If the Federation moves to defer the motion, Your Majesty,” Senator Palpatine was saying to the Queen, his head bent close, his voice low and insistent, “I beg of you to ask for a resolution to end this session and call for the election of a new supreme chancellor.”

  Amidala did not look at him, continuing to advance toward the Naboo box. “I wish I had your confidence in this proposal, Senator,” she replied quietly.

  “You must force a new election for supreme chancellor,” Palpatine pressed. “I promise you there are many who will support us. It is our best chance.” He glanced toward the podium and Valorum. “Our only chance.”

  A murmur had risen from the assembled as they caught sight of Amidala standing at the entry to the Naboo box, robes of office flowing out behind her, head erect, face calm. If she heard the change in tenor of the level of conversation around her, she gave no sign. Her eyes shifted momentarily to Palpatine.

  “You truly believe Chancellor Valorum will not bring our motion to a vote?” she asked quietly.

  Palpatine shook his head, his high brow furrowing. “He is distracted. He is afraid. He will be of no help.”

  Rabé handed a small metal viewscreen to Anakin and Jar Jar and motioned for them to wait where they were. Stepping into the Senate box with Palpatine, Amidala was joined by her handmaidens and Panaka. Anakin was disappointed at not being included, but grateful when he discovered that the viewscreen Rabé had provided allowed him to see and hear what was happening in the Naboo box.

  “She’s going to ask the Senate for help, Jar Jar,” he whispered, leaning over excitedly. “What do you think?”

  The Gungan wrinkled up his billed mouth and shook his floppy-eared head. “Me think dis bombad, Annie. Too many peoples to be agreeing on da one thing.”

  The Naboo box detached from its docking and floated a short distance toward the supreme chancellor’s podium, waiting for permission to advance all the way. Palpatine, Amidala, and the rest of the occupants were seated now, facing forward.

  Valorum nodded his short-cropped white head in the direction of Palpatine. “The chair recognizes the senator from the sovereign system of Naboo.”

  The Naboo box glided to the center of the arena, and Palpatine rose to his feet, taking in the assemblage with a slow sweeping gaze that drew all eyes toward his.

  “Supreme Chancellor, delegates of the Senate,” his voice boomed, quieting the chamber. “A tragedy has occurred on my homeworld of Naboo. We have become caught up in a dispute, one of which you are all well aware. It began with a taxation of trade routes and has evolved into an oppressive and lawless occupation of a peaceful world. The Trade Federation bears responsibility for this injustice and must be made to answer …”

  A second box was rushing forward by now, this one bearing the markings of the Trade Federation and occupied by the Federation’s senator, Lott Dod, and a handful of trade barons in attendance.

  “This is outrageous!” the Trade Federation senator thundered, gesturing toward the podium and Valorum. A lean, wizened Neimoidian, he loomed out of the low-railed box like a willowy tree. “I object to Senator Palpatine’s ridiculous assertions and ask that he be silenced at once!”

  Valorum’s white head swiveled briefly in Lott Dod’s direction and one hand lifted. “The chair does not recognize the senator from the Trade Federation at this time.” The supreme chancellor’s voice was soft, but steady. “Return to your station.”

  Lott Dod looked as if he might say something more, but then he lowered himself back into his seat as his box slowly retreated.

  “To state our allegations in full,” Palpatine continued, “I present Queen Amidala, the recently elected ruler of the Naboo, to speak on our behalf.”

  He stepped aside, and Amidala rose to a light scattering of applause. Moving to the front of the box, she faced Valorum. “Honorable representatives of the Republic, distinguished delegates, and Supreme Chancellor Valorum. I come to you under the gravest of circumstances. In repudiation and violation of the laws of the Republic, the Naboo have been invaded and subjugated by force by droid armies of the Trade Federation—”

  Lott Dod was on his feet again, voice raised angrily. “I object! This is nonsense! Where is the proof?” He did not wait for recognition as he turned to the chamber at large. “I recommend a commission be sent to Naboo to ascertain the truth of these allegations.”

  Valorum shook his head. “Overruled.”

  Lot
t Dod sighed heavily and threw up his hands as if with that single word his life had become hopeless. “Your Honor, you cannot allow us to be condemned without granting our request for an impartial observation. It is against all the rules of procedure!”

  He scanned the chamber for help, and there was a murmur of agreement from the delegates. A third box glided forward to join those of Naboo and the Trade Federation. The chair recognized Aks Moe, the senator from the planet of Malastare.

  Stocky and slow moving, his three eyestalks waving gently, Aks Moe put the thick, heavy pads of his hands on his hips. “The senator from Malastare concurs with the honorable delegate from the Trade Federation.” His voice was thick and gnarly. “A commission, once requested, must be appointed, where there is a dispute of the sort we have encountered here. It is the law.”

  Valorum hesitated. “The point is …”

  He trailed off uncertainly, left the sentence unfinished, and turned to confer with his vice chair, identified on the printed register as Mas Amedda. Amedda was of a species Anakin had never encountered, human in form, but with a head swollen by a pillow of cushioning tissue narrowing into a pair of tentacles that drooped over either shoulder and feelers that jutted from above the forehead. Together with their aides, the chair and vice chair engaged in a hurried discussion. Anakin and Jar Jar exchanged worried glances as Palpatine’s voice reached them through the handheld viewscreen’s tiny speaker.

  “Enter the bureaucrats, the true rulers of the Republic, and on the payroll of the Trade Federation, I might add,” he was whispering to the Queen. Anakin could see their heads bent close. Palpatine’s tone was heavy. “This is where Chancellor Valorum’s strength will disappear.”