A Small Thing

[matril]

“Your Highness, we will be emerging from hyperspace in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Obi-Wan examined the queen's face as she absorbed the news. She appeared nervous, but relieved as well. What else? Qui-Gon had hinted that he knew something about her, something that Obi-Wan hadn't noticed yet. So far, all his careful observations had revealed nothing. She was young and inexperienced, painfully unprepared for the serious situation on her planet, but he could have guessed any of that without ever meeting her. Why did Qui-Gon keep smirking about her?

Obi-Wan was forcibly shaken from his conjectures when something rocked the entire ship. He and Qui-Gon were on their way into the cockpit in an instant.

The head pilot was frantic, pulling at the controls with jerky movements. “It came on us the second we left hyperspace,” he said. “It wasn't on any of my sensors.”

“Take the controls,” Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan, briskly, allowing for no argument. Obi-Wan obeyed, and the overwhelmed pilot ceded control without resistance. Qui-Gon was indubitably Obi-Wan's better in most regards, but when it came to piloting, Obi-Wan had a particular talent that even his master did not quite reach.

The talent did not necessarily mean that Obi-Wan actively enjoyed flying, however, particularly not when he was maneuvering an unfamiliar ship to avoid the attacks of a much smaller and swifter craft. Where had it come from? This was nothing like their brief encounter with the Federation's blockade, a blunt and massive force. Instead, as his hands darted from one control to another, his eyes tensely focused on the mysterious ship in the viewscreen, Obi-Wan found himself thinking of their attacker like a vicious insect, darting in circles around them, its stinger poised to strike again.

And strike it did, a blow that made the ship shudder.

“The shields are still holding,” the pilot declared in absurdly panicked tones.

“It can't last forever,” Qui-Gon said. “Obi-Wan, we need to get closer to Corsucant. They won't dare continue an open attack so close to the capital.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan focused on the glittering planet in the screen, while keeping part of his concentration on the enemy ship's next move. The Force was an essential ally, directing his movements before he had to think of them, staving off the tense fear that would have crippled his ability to act.

Another blow. “The shield's wavering!” the pilot cried out. “Backup generator's kicking in...”

Just a few more moments....Obi-Wan could feel Coruscant's gravity beginning to exert its pull....

The enemy ship turned away and vanished.

Obi-Wan dropped his hands and let out his breath, lightheaded and dizzy now that he was allowed to be. He ventured a grin at his master.

“Good work, my Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, but he was frowning, his gaze on the viewscreen.

“What was it?” Obi-Wan said. “Were they sent by the Federation, do you think?” He was beginning to get that bad feeling again, and this time his master seemed keenly aware of it himself.

“I don't know,” Qui-Gon answered.

“Is there anything we can do about it?”

Qui-Gon regained his serene expression. “We shall be patient.”
--
Anakin couldn't sit and do nothing. Mistress Surali said it was too dangerous, and thought they should stay in his house and hide. But they couldn't do that forever. Even if the droids didn't come back and find them, they would run out of food eventually. Anakin wasn't going to wait that long.

When night came, and Mistress Surali finally fell into a nervous sleep on a chair in the kitchen, Anakin left the house.

He wrote a note to his teacher so she wouldn't think he had been taken away by battle droids, and he used his thumbprint to triple lock the door, which would hopefully keep the droids out long enough for Mistress Surali to escape out the back. He felt a little guilty about leaving her, but not because she had wanted him to stay and be safe. It wasn't safe anywhere on Naboo now. He was just worried that she would be in more danger all by herself. If only she still had that blaster from the school hanger...

He wasn't sure where he would go. He just let his feet take him wherever they wanted to. They had taken him to all sorts of interesting places before. Mom got nervous when he wandered around Theed, but he had always found his way back home.

Maybe it would lead him to Mom now.

His feet pulled him around a corner into an alley. On the main street, a bunch of battle droids marched past. Anakin's heart raced as he watched them go by. He hadn't thought they would still be out at night, but it seemed silly now. Of course they would. Droids didn't need to sleep. Good thing his feet had gotten him out of the way.

He went on more carefully now, listening for the clattering footsteps to warn him of approaching droids. After walking in silence for a while, he turned down another alley, and suddenly someone's hand was over his mouth.

That horrible feeling of fear fell over him again, until he thought about how the ones causing trouble on Naboo were droids, not people, and it was definitely a person's hand over his mouth. Whoever it was was kneeling down at his level, demanding in a hissing whisper, “What do you think you're doing, little boy? Don't you know how dangerous these streets are?”

Anakin nodded fervently.

Slowly the hand came away. Anakin turned and saw a serious looking man, older than Padmé but still much younger than Mistress Surali. He was wearing clothes that looked like the uniforms some of the men had been wearing in the palace.

“I'm Anakin,” he whispered. “I hid from the battle droids. I'm looking for some way to fight them.”

The man scowled. “You'd be safer in one of the camps.”

Anakin realized that he wasn't angry with him so much as as he was scared for the people on Naboo. “Maybe so,” he said, “but I think I can help. Are you fighting the droids?”

“Hardly,”the man snorted. “We've barely managed to escape with our lives. With time we might be able to pull something together –”

We. “There are others?” Anakin said, perking up.

“A few,” the man said, adding significantly, “All of them grown-ups.”

“Are any of them pilots?”

“Some. Why?”

“I'm a pilot,” Anakin said cheerfully. “I've been in pilot school for three years.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious? This is no time for make-believe.”

“I'm serious.”

“Hmm.” The man stood there a moment, then seemed to make a decision. “Whatever I said before, I can't leave you to be taken into a camp. Let me show you where we've been hiding. We'll decide what to do with you after that.”

Anakin cast one last rueful look in the direction of his home before following the man toward the outskirts of Theed.