Star Wars: The Chronicles Episode II: Army of the Jedi

By Myles L. Edmundson

Based on characters and situations created by

Chapter IV Calm Before the Storm Padme Amidala has been ordered to take a leave of absence. While she is off , Jar-Jar will take up her duties in the Senate. Additionally, Obi-Wan Kenobi travels to the distant planet of Kamino to investigate the mysterious Chenko Brothers. But while the Jedi Order protects Padme and try to get to the bottom of the attempts on her life, dark and sinister forces push the Empire inexorably toward war.

In a dark and remote part of space, a theta-class shuttle emerged from hyperspace. The red dwarf star was small and dim. It was orbited by a vast disk of dust, asteroids, and feeble planetoids. The shuttle was black, barely visible in the black background of space. The shuttle approached a planetoid near the edge of the system, and skimmed its surface till it reached a collection of domes and prefabricated structures fixed to the surface. Folding its flight wings, the shuttle set down on a landing pad, and descended beneath the surface of the planetoid. Darth Sidious stepped out from the boarding ramp. As a master of the Dark Side of , he was capable of appearing as a shadow, dark and formless. He could even use the force to ensure others would see nothing but blackness beneath his hood. He oozed through the corridors of the nameless outpost, shadow and darkness seeming to follow him like a foul stench. He entered a cybernetics laboratory nestled in the deepest depths of the outpost. He expertly hid his disgust at the blood oozing from the mutilated body on the operating table, and dripping on the floor. The Master did not know the name or the species that lay dead on the table, nor did he care now. His operatives had acquired the being for this secret experiment. Thus far all the test subjects had died. Darth Sidious glared at the medical droids that had conducted the experiment, but were now beginning to clear away the body. Presently, a full-scale hologram of appeared near Darth Sidious. Count Dooku was a tall, slender man. His gray hair was neatly combed, and his short beard was trimmed to a knife-like shape. His black single suit was impeccably clean and pressed. His armor weave cape was a deep mahogany with a geometric weave pattern embossed in red and gold on the inside lining. The curved chrome and black hilt of his hung at the left side of his belt. Dooku deferentially bowed his head. Darth Sidious glanced at Dooku’s hologram, then back at the body being cleared away from the operating table. “What is it, Lord Tyranus,” Darth Sidious growled. “The last test subject clearly died,” Dooku noted. “A keen observation,” Darth Sidious quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do not fret, my master,” Dooku assured, “I have already procured another test subject, and I sense this one will survive the procedure.” “How is this new test subject different from the previous one,” Darth Sidious hissed. “He is a warlord, full of fury and rage,” Dooku gushed, reveling in the thought of the test subject, “His rage alone would allow him to survive where the others failed.” “What do you mean,” Darth Sidious demanded. “THIS one is filled with rage,” Dooku explained, “He desires revenge against the Jedi Order.” “What could the Jedi have done to him,” Darth Sidious asked, eager to know more. “Apparently, they refused to aid this warlord in a war his people were fighting with another planet,” Dooku explained, “he would make a perfect candidate for your experiment.” “How powerful would he become,” Darth Sidious asked. “I cannot say, Master,” Dooku replied, “However, his rage is strong and his stubbornness will carry him through the experiment.” “Very well, Lord Tyranus,” Darth Sidious growled, “send the creature. I will judge the creature’s usefulness if it survives the procedure.” “I will send him presently, Master,” Dooku said. “Excellent, Lord Tyranus,” Darth Sidious said, “now, resume your work.” “There is another matter, my master,” Dooku said. “What is it,” Darth Sidious demanded, glaring at Dooku. “I have discovered a force-sensitive girl,” Dooku replied, “She is an orphan that was being trained by a Jedi stranded on Ratatak. Her master was killed, leaving her alone on that world. Years among the gangs of Ratatak has saturated her with the Dark Side of the Force. She could be a valuable operative…with the proper training.” “Are you suggesting we take this…GIRL…as a Sith,” Darth Sidious asked. “No, my master,” Dooku said, “I am suggesting we take her as one of your Dark Jedi…in time she can EARN a status as a Sith Lord…should she merit it.” “What is her name,” Darth Sidious asked. “,” Dooku said. “Do you still possess Komari Vosa’s ,” Darth Sidious asked. “Yes, Master,” Dooku stated. “Give them to Ventress,” Darth Sidious commanded, “guide her on the journey down the dark path. She will either become a Sith…or she will die.” “By your command, my master,” Dooku replied as his hologram vanished. Darth Sidious glared at the body of the unfortunate being on the table. He did not know who the being was, nor did he care. Now another being would soon be subjected to the same experiment. Sidious did not care who THAT being was either. He was not interested in the creature’s name or species. If the creature survived the experiment, only THEN would Darth Sidious give a damn about who and what the creature is. But by then, the creature would belong to Darth Sidious. If the experiment succeeded, the creature would not only be a powerful cyborg, but also inseparably linked to the Force. And if the creature was as filled with rage and fury as Count Dooku claimed, turning him to the Dark Side of the Force would be simplicity itself. With a final glare at the blood-soaked corpse, Darth Sidious turned in a flurry of black robes and strode from the room. In moments, his shuttle lifted off and flew away, soon vanishing into hyperspace. On the planet Coruscant, a speeder bus descended onto a landing platform at one of the out of the more out of city-planet’s many spaceports. The spaceport was a secondary spaceport that normally handled bulk freight and cargo, though quite a lot of passenger traffic passed through the spaceport as well. It was a small, out of the way spaceport where beings came when they wished to come or go from Coruscant using unregistered transportation. The main source of passenger traffic from these small spaceports were refugees fleeing one form of persecution or another on Coruscant. This suited the Jedi Order and their plan to get Padme off Coruscant unnoticed. Padme, always staying in character as an imperial senator, looked at the spaceport with barely disguised disgust. The spaceport was dirty, the walls were covered in graffiti in a dozen different languages. The refuse bins were overflowing with garbage, despite the efforts of the sanitation droids to clean the spaceport. Refugees of dozens upon dozens of species moved through the spaceport, most moving to the bulk freighters that had been hastily converted to passenger transports. The speeder bus landed in an out of the way area of the spaceport to make their arrival less noticed. On the speeder bus, Anakin looked himself over as he gathered Padme’s luggage onto a repulsor cart that R2-D2 would tow to the transport that would be taking them off Coruscant. To cover their departure, the three Jedi had disguised themselves as refugees fleeing persecution by a local, yet unspecified crime syndicate. Qui-Gon had simply put on the gray poncho he had once worn when disguising himself as a moisture farmer. However, he had exchanged the upper half of his Jedi robes for a simple white tunic. Padme had elected to put on a simple, gathered-top peasant blouse and a colorful gipsy skirt. She covered her hair with a simple scarf and wore sandals on her feet. Anakin had dressed in a simple white tunic of rough linen and the black trousers of his usual Jedi robes. He too wore a gray poncho. During the ride in the speeder bus, Padme demonstrated her practiced hand at carving jewelry out of japor snippets, as she had quickly carved some pseudo-religious amulets for them to wear, thus making them seem to be members of some small, obscure religion, and by extension making their flight from Coruscant more plausible. For the purposes of their voyage, Qui-Gon was masquerading as Padme’s father, and Anakin was undercover as Padme’s husband. To sell this cover story, Padme had also carved japor wedding rings for her and Anakin to wear. looked around as the speeder bus’s door opened. When he was sure they were entirely unobserved, he motioned for the trio and their to exit the speeder bus. A few beings glanced at them, but immediately dismissed them. It was not unusual for a Jedi Knight to aid people in escaping local crime syndicates. Anakin stood with Artoo, ostensibly guarding their luggage. Padme tied a sash across her hips of a sort that had many folds and hidden pockets. She had one of her lightsabers and other small items concealed in the folds of this sash. Qui-Gon and Anakin’s lightsabers were concealed in pockets hidden in the folds of her skirt, which were positioned in such a way as to leave no indication that she was carrying anything. “Be careful,” Mace Windu hissed, his voice filled with warning. “We will,” Qui-Gon replied, “we will remain unnoticed until we arrive at .” “Do nothing until you hear from us,” Mace Windu said. “We shall remain on Naboo until you call for us,” Qui-Gon said. “This is not to my liking, Master Windu,” Padme huffed. “We do not like it either, Padme,” Mace Windu countered, “however, it is how things are. The war is coming, and your death would only serve to fan the flames of that war.” “I agree,” Qui-Gon added, “we cannot have you becoming a martyr for people to rally behind.” “I understand, masters,” Padme sighed, “but I still feel I would better serve the Empire HERE than sequestered away on Naboo!” “This leave of absence is only until we get to the bottom of these attempts on your life,” Mace Windu assured, “THEN we will permit you to return.” “I sense there is more to this voyage than simply keeping me out of harm’s way,” Padme said, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, “but I shall do as the council wishes.” “We ask nothing more of you than that,” Mace Windu said with a smile. Padme turned to Dormé, Jar-Jar, and Captain Typho. Dormé already had tears flowing from her eyes, and Captain Typho stood rigid as a statue. Jar-Jar hovered behind them, angrily grumbling sour nothings to himself “The danger will be on you three now,” Padme mused. “Mistress,” Dormé sobbed, “we fear more for YOU than for ourselves.” “How fortunate that I have two brave Jedi Knights to protect me,” Padme giggled. “Be careful,” Captain Typho said, placing a brotherly hand on Padme’s shoulder. “My should be going with yousa,” Jar-Jar growled, “yousa being in muy big dangers without mesa.” “Jar-Jar, we talked about this,” Padme said, switching to Gunganese. “I know,” Jar-Jar countered in Gunganese, “I still don’t like it. I should go with you, and protect you myself so Ani and Qui-Gon can help Obi in hunting down the killers.” “We all have our parts to play in this galactic drama,” Padme said in Gunganese. “My knowing quite well, milady,” Jar-Jar sighed, sounding defeated. With that, Jar-Jar pulled Padme into a rather affectionate hug, making it quite clear that he deeply cared for her. When he released Padme, Jar-Jar turned and pulled Anakin into a back- pounding man-hug, while Padme and Dormé embraced and cried on each other’s shoulders. Finally, Jar-Jar shook Qui-Gon’s hand. “Do not worry, my old friend,” Qui-Gon assured, “my padawan and I will keep Padme safe,” then Qui-Gon said in a softer tone, “have faith in Padme. She is a fully trained Jedi Knight, and can take care of herself.” “My specting yousa boyos to be taking muy good care of dee senator,” Jar-Jar admonished, “my skinning yousa alive if some ting be happenings to hersa.” “I assure you, Padme will come to no harm while she is under our care,” Qui-Gon assured. “Representative Binks,” Mace Windu growled, “we must depart.” “Uh-huh,” Jar-Jar grunted. Then, with a final look at Padme, Anakin, and Qui-Gon, Jar-Jar affectionately patted Artoo on his dome, then boarded the speeder bus, ushering Dormé and Captain Typho aboard. Mace Windu exchanged looks with Qui-Gon, then boarded the speeder bus, which closed its doors and lifted off into the sky. Qui-Gon wordlessly shepherded his pseudo-family into the spaceport, with Artoo trundling along behind them happily beeping a pleasant tune to himself as he towed the repulsor luggage cart behind him. Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his eyes when his starfighter burst out of hyperspace. Kamino, the stormy ocean world, lay ahead of him. He disengaged his fighter from the hyperdrive ring, then flew toward the planet. After performing a shallow, leisurely atmospheric entry, he flew above the planet’s persistent, nearly omnipresent storm clouds for several kilometers before dropping below into the storm and descending toward Tipoca City. From the distance, the city looked like a collection of disk-shaped buildings set on stilts above the planetary ocean. However, these disks weren’t the buildings. They were environmental domes that covered the city’s buildings. They served two purposes: one was to shield the city’s residents from the worst of the planet’s weather; the other was to route rain water into purification systems, thus providing the city with a near endless source of clean water. Obi-Wan approached the city and brought his fighter to land on a platform outside the city’s small administrative dome. The circular platform was pelted with a hard driving rain as the small starfighter set down. Obi-Wan looked at R4-P17, his astromech droid, who, despite being incapable of showing emotion on her face, managed to look miserable as the rain pelted down on her dome. Reluctantly, Obi-Wan pulled his hood over his head, opened the canopy, and climbed out of his fighter. Instantly drenched, he looked at his droid. “Keep a scanner on the ship, Arfour,” Obi-Wan said, “I should not be long.” Arfour beeped her acknowledgement, and then swiveled her dome around looking about the fighter to check her surroundings, while Obi-Wan walked toward the nearby entrance. He was glad to step inside the dome. He was not surprised to see Taun We approaching him. The stately Kaminoan female bowed to him as best as her tall, slender body could manage. “Welcome, Master Kenobi,” she lilted, “are you here to inspect the army? I was under the impression that we were not due to be inspected till Master Shaak Ti arrived next week.” “I wish I were here for a simple inspection,” Obi-Wan said, “I fear I am here as part of an investigation.” “Goodness,” Taun We gasped, “I pray WE aren’t being investigated.” “No,” Obi-Wan assured, “I need to speak to .” “Ah,” Taun We sighed, “you are in luck. He just recently returned from a journey off world.” “Would you kindly take me to him,” Obi-Wan politely asked. “By all means,” Taun We replied, “follow me.” Taun We turned and glided down the corridor. The walk through the facility was brief, but involved a triflingly small bit of twists and turns. She ultimately led him to the residential area of the facility. In the end, she led him to a particular apartment in the administrative residential section. She touched the door chime key and waited. Presently, a young boy of ten opened the door, and looked at them indifferently. “Boba,” Taun We said pleasantly, “Master Kenobi is here to speak to your father.” “Okay,” the boy grunted. The boy turned and stalked into the apartment. Obi-Wan and Taun We entered the apartment. Obi-Wan immediately noticed a kindly woman standing at the apartment’s modest kitchen. She was a willowy woman with a mane of long dark hair trailing down her back. She was dressed in a simple blouse with a gathered top, and a flowing peasant skirt. She looked at Obi-Wan with a mixture of trepidation and acceptance. Obi-Wan recognized her as Rana Fett, Jango’s wife. Though Obi-Wan was only just now meeting her for the first time, he had learned of Jango Fett’s wife from Qui-Gon Jinn. “Thank you, Taun We,” Rana said, “we will see to our Jedi visitor.” “I hope Mr. Fett can help you with your investigation, Master Kenobi,” Taun We said. “I’m sure he will,” Obi-Wan said. Taun We turned and exited. When Tuan We was gone, Rana turned to her son. “Boba, go get your father,” Rana said. “Yes, Mom,” the boy said. Obi-Wan watched as the boy trotted off. “My master, Qui-Gon Jinn, told me of you,” Obi-Wan said, “you’re Rana Fett, wife of Jango Fett. If memory serves, you were carrying a child when my master aided your sister in driving away an attack by Trade Federation battle droids.” “Yes, that is true,” Rana replied. “I am glad to see your son doing so well, despite the attack on you while you carried him,” Obi-Wan said. “I fear that boy is NOT the child I was carrying back then,” Rana muttered, looking down at her stomach. “I don’t understand,” Obi-Wan said. “While your master and my sister saved my life,” Rana explained, “I went into labor mere hours after they departed to rescue my husband. I…I…lost the baby.” “I apologize,” Obi-Wan said, “I did not know.” “Don’t concern yourself,” Rana dismissed, “I have grieved enough for that child.” “If you lost your baby,” Obi-Wan asked, “who is that boy?” “My son,” Rana said, “When Jango took the job you Jedi offered him, I was carrying a girl. Jango demanded the Kaminoans provide him with an unaltered clone of himself, and that the Kaminoans implant that clone in my womb. That way, I would be guaranteed to give my husband a son. After I recovered from giving birth, the Kaminoans to implanted Jango’s unaltered clone in my womb. I gladly carried the boy to term, I enjoyed giving birth to him, and I cherish every day I spend as his mother. He is my son in every way that counts.” “He is fortunate to have a loving mother,” Obi-Wan praised. “That he is,” came Jango’s voice from behind Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan turned and saw Jango and Boba standing behind him. “Greetings, Mr. Fett,” Obi-Wan said. “What can I do for you, Master Jedi,” Jango asked, “you here to see the army?” “I fear I am not,” Obi-Wan said. “This must be about that trouble with Senator Amidala,” Jango said. “How did you know about that,” Obi-Wan asked. “I’m a bounty hunter,” Jango snorted, “I hear things. Besides, you can’t imprison without someone figuring out why.” “My husband did not do it,” Rana barked. “Your husband is not a suspect,” Obi-Wan assured. “Then why are you here,” Jango asked. “Have you ever heard of a pair of Mandalorians called the Chenko Brothers,” Obi-Wan asked. “Where did you hear of them,” Jango asked darkly. “I interrogated Cad Bane, and he mentioned that he was hired by a pair of Mandalorians called the Chenko Brothers,” Obi-Wan explained, “I was hoping you knew something of them.” “I know enough to warn you not to pursue them,” Jango warned. “What do you mean,” Obi-Wan asked. “They’re members of a violent Mando faction called ‘the Death Watch,” Jango explained. “Who are they,” Obi-Wan asked. “They are the survivors of Warriors exiled to Concord Dawn after the Civil War on Mandalore,” Jango explained, “they’re determined to assassinate Duchess Satine Kryze and take over Mandalore. They want to return to our old ways of conquest.” “I take it you do not agree,” Obi-Wan asked. “I’m no pacifist,” Jango said, “and if it weren’t for my brother’s efforts, I’d have abandoned my people all together. Silas convinced me to have pride in my people.” “He also convinced Duchess Satine to accept True Mandalorians,” Rana added, “Mandalorian warriors like my sister have become an integral part of Mandalorian society. The Duchess can no longer imagine how she managed to keep safe without my sister and the Royal Guard.” “I am glad he is having such a positive affect on your people,” Obi-Wan said. “But the Death Watch refuses to accept this peaceful arrangement,” Rana growled, “they only want to cover the stars in blood.” “I am afraid I must ask if you know of their whereabouts,” Obi-Wan asked. “If I knew where those bastards were,” Jango hissed, “I’d give you their heads.” “We don’t associate with the Death Watch,” Rana added. “Indeed,” Obi-Wan said. “Jango,” Rana lilted, “why don’t you take Master Kenobi and show him the army.” “Good idea,” Jango said, “I’ll just get into my suit.” Jango stepped into a nearby room. While they waited, Rana smiled at Obi-Wan. “Can I get you a drink, Master Kenobi,” she asked. “No, thank you,” Obi-Wan said politely. “My husband is a good man, and a wonderful father,” Rana mused. “I have no doubt of that,” Obi-Wan said. “We’re expecting another child,” Rana blurted out. “Congratulations,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, “another clone?” “No,” Rana chuckled, a wistful smile on her face. “Mom got pregnant naturally this time,” the boy stated. “It occurs to me that we have not been formally introduce, young man,” Obi-Wan said, addressing the boy as an equal. “I’m Boba, son of Jango and Rana,” the boy said proudly, “and I’m learning to be a warrior just like my Dad.” “Then may the Force guide you on your path to greatness,” Obi-Wan said. “Uncle Silas told me all about the Force,” Boba said, “he said you get powers from it.” “Yes,” Obi-Wan said, “but even an ordinary person can learn to listen to the Force and even use it with time, practice, and patience.” “No kidding,” Boba asked. “No kidding,” Obi-Wan assured. “Wow,” Boba gasped, then he looked at Obi-Wan with determination, “I’m gonna learn how to use the Force in my own way.” “Even we Jedi do that,” Obi-Wan said, “trust me, your father is doing an excellent job of teaching you his trade. Be patient, and learn your lessens well, young Boba.” “You have my word, Master Kenobi,” Boba said, “Dad and Mom won’t steer me wrong. Besides, Mom’s part of that Church of the Force.” Obi-Wan looked at Rana with astonishment. “You believe in the Force,” Obi-Wan gasped. “Yes,” Rana said, then she touched her stomach, “I honestly believe I got pregnant because of the Force. I prayed that Jango and I would conceive another child, and now I’m carrying my husband’s baby again.” “Well, the Force IS within you,” Obi-Wan stated, “if you believe that the Force will aid you in conceiving children, then you will find yourself more fertile.” “Shall we go, Master Jedi,” came Jango’s voice from the door. “By all means,” Obi-Wan said, then he looked at Boba and Rana, and said, “I take my leave of you.” “It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Kenobi,” Rana said, “Perhaps we will fight together some day.” “Perhaps,” Obi-Wan admitted, “the future is always in motion. May the Force be with you.” With that, Obi-Wan and Jango exited. As transports go, Qui-Gon Jinn had traveled in worse, but not by much. The transport that he, Anakin, and Padme were traveling on was actually a bulk cargo transport that had been hastily converted to transport passengers. To this end, the transport’s crew had set up tables, chairs and a military-style camp galley at one end of the ship’s vast cargo bay. The rest of the cargo bay was divided into cubicles furnished with bunks, tables, and storage lockers to accommodate passengers. R2-D2 trundled along with Qui-Gon Jinn and Anakin in the transport’s military camp galley. While Qui-Gon got food for himself, Artoo had a metallic camp tray clamped in his heavy manipulator, while employing his various other tools and manipulators to load the tray with food. In the interest of playing his part as the helpful family droid, Artoo had insisted that HE would get Padme’s food for her, rather than allowing her to get her meal herself. Artoo reached out with his precision manipulator arm, and seized a dinner roll from the serving line. The multi-armed COO cook droid waved a ladle at the little astro droid. “GET OUTTA HERE, RUBBISH BIN,” the cook droid shouted in its flat monotone, “NO DROIDS ALLOWED IN THE SERVING LINE!” Artoo swiveled his dome to look at the irascible cook droid, and made a rude noise at it. “He belongs to me,” Qui-Gon said evenly, “he is getting food for my daughter. She is not feeling well.” “She’s space-sick,” Anakin added, “we don’t travel in space too often.” “If your mate is sick,” the cook droid growled in its monotone, “take her to sickbay. In the meantime, keep your rubbish bin of an astro-droid away from my serving line!” “He shan’t bother you again, my friend,” Qui-Gon soothed. The cook droid turned its attention to serving the other passengers, while Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Artoo moved away from the serving line, by way of the beverage dispenser, where they picked up cups of a bland, but tolerable concoction that the ship’s Bith nutritionist asserted was nutritionally sound for 90% of species in the galaxy. Qui-Gon and Anakin marveled as Artoo swiveled his dome around, and popped a manipulator out of a panel in the side of his dome and picked up a cup of the nutrient concoction for Padme. Their meals and beverages obtained, Anakin, Qui-Gon, and Artoo made their way to a rickety table at the very back of the makeshift cafeteria area of the cargo bay. Padme sat with their back to the room, using the Force to sense potential threats. She looked up when Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Artoo approached. Artoo placed Padme’s meal tray on the table in front of her, then swiveled his dome around to set her beverage on the table beside her tray. “Thank you, Artoo,” Padme praised, affectionately patting his dome. Artoo happily rocked side to side somehow managing to make it clear that he was beaming with pride at Padme’s praise. Meanwhile, Anakin and Qui-Gon sat down at the table, and together they made a show of eating as a family. “How long do you suppose we will have to stay away from Coruscant,” Padme asked. “Until Obi-Wan finds these Chenko Brothers,” Qui-Gon said, “when the council declare the danger past, we will return.” “I wonder how long that will be, Master,” Anakin asked. “We must remain patient, my young padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “I can’t say I like traveling aboard this ship,” Padme said, deciding to play up her role as a religious refugee, “the bunks are NOT comfortable, and the food is questionable at best.” She punctuated her point by probing her food with an eating utensil. “We must be patient, my daughter,” Qui-Gon said, “it shan’t be much longer before we arrive on Naboo.” “That will be a relief,” Padme sighed. They ate in silence for several minutes. Their quiet was interrupted when a large Saurin stalked up to them, and slammed his hands on their table. The Trandoshan-like reptilian reeked of the foul stench of some sour smelling liquor. His spacer’s garb was ragged, filthy, and threadbare. Qui-Gon studied him long enough to spot several innocuous looking bits of tech that he instantly realized could be combined to form a serviceable pistol. He had seen these covert blaster weapons before. They were designed so they could be disassembled into nice, non-threatening bits of tech, and either concealed about the wielder’s person, or concealed in baggage. The most infamous example of this was But’ta’an Makabumba, an infamous Nikto hitman who worked for Zorba the . But’ta’an was known to have a heavy repeating blaster that could be broken down into its constituent parts, and concealed in a Bith lute case. The unsightly and revoltingly smelly Saurin glared at Qui-Gon. “Give to me your droid,” the reptilian hissed. “Why would you want him,” Qui-Gon asked, “he is just a battered old R2 unit.” Artoo somehow managed to make an ominous grinding sound from somewhere inside his cylindrical body. The Saurin glanced at Artoo, then snorted. “Don’t care,” he spat, “want the droid. You give to me the droid!” “You don’t want my droid,” Qui-Gon said, hiding his invocation of the force by pointing at the Saurin. “Non’t want the droid,” the Saurin repeated, his face suddenly looking blank. “You are going to go away and leave us alone,” Qui-Gon said, “and apologize for disturbing us.” “Yeah,” the Saurin agreed, “gonna go away and leave you alone. Apologies for bothering you.” Padme waited until the Saurin was well away from them before she spoke. “What was that all about,” she asked. “Scavenger,” Anakin said, “they grab whatever tech they can get their appendages on, and sell it for credits. Some will stoop to bullying and killing to get hold of tech.” “An astro-droid in good condition would fetch a fair price on the black market,” Qui-Gon said. “That’s terrible,” Padme gasped. “That’s life in the galaxy,” Anakin said, “the Empire does not exist out in the outer rim.” “Many criminal operations exist out in the furthest reaches of the Empire,” Qui-Gon explained, “And there is only so much that the Empire can do to enforce the law.” “I wish there was something that could be done,” Padme said. “So do I,” Anakin said, “I think people should be made to obey the law.” “And how would that be accomplished,” Qui-Gon asked, “would you establish a militaristic police force? Would you risk turning our peaceful Empire into a thing of terrible darkness? A government must walk a fine line between freedom and oppression. It must afford its people enough freedom to seek happiness in their lives, and they must be restrictive enough to prevent their society from degrading into absolute chaos. If a government strays too far in one direction or the other, then terrible things can occur as a result. Both have happened in the annals of galactic history.” “I understand, Master,” Anakin said. “I can’t wait till we arrive at Naboo,” Padme groaned, “the people on this ship are disturbing.” “These are the flotsam and jetsam of our society,” Qui-Gon said, “they are the unwanted dregs that our society grinds over. Small wonder that they are not always pleasant people.” “I understand, Master,” Padme said. They again ate in silence. After several minutes, Qui-Gon looked at Padme and Anakin. “You two had best take to sleeping together in the same bunk,” Qui-Gon said. “Master,” Anakin gasped “Master Qui-Gon,” Padme sighed, “that would be inappropriate.” “You two are supposed to be married,” Qui-Gon reminded them, “the other passengers would more easily believe that you two are husband and wife if you are seen sleeping together.” “But master, we close the privacy curtain when we sleep at night,” Anakin protested. “This is true,” Qui-Gon admitted, “however, people still look into our cubicle at night. If they see you and Padme preparing to sleep together in the same bunk, they will believe you are married.” “I suppose we are also to openly show affection toward each other,” Padme asked. “That would also be helpful,” Qui-Gon admitted, “remember, we are supposed to be a family.” Anakin and Padme looked at each other. After a moment, Padme smiled at him, and made a show of affectionately taking his hand. Anakin responded to this by lovingly kissing Padme’s hand. Qui-Gon smiled at seeing this, knowing that one of ’s more secret missions was being carried out. Obi-Wan Kenobi looked about him in awe. The glass-walled tube of a corridor that Jango led him through looked out over the training facility. Far below him on one side, he saw vast numbers of clone troopers all dressed in red training fatigues. The clone trooper cadets all sat together at tables in the troopers’ dining hall. Obi-Wan marveled at the high degree of discipline the clone troopers showed as they sat together eating without any chatting or banter. Looking at the other side, he saw ranks and files of clone trooper cadets working through unarmed fighting techniques. As Obi-Wan and Jango walked on, Obi-Wan looked down and saw younger clone cadets seated in tiered classrooms. Each young clone was seated at a training computer. Each young clone wore a neural training helmet that increased the rate at which they learned the lessons being conveyed by the training computer. Obi-Wan had seen this type of education system before. The neural helmets did more than just speed up the speed of the education the student was receiving, it also ensured the information and skills being taught were ingrained at an instinctive level. Obi-Wan had no doubt that these clone troopers would be supremely skilled. “Am I correct in assuming this to be a public display floor,” Obi-Wan asked. “Correct,” Jango said, “the Prime Minister uses this area to show off the clones in training. I’m taking you to what you might call ‘the factory floor’.” Jango turned down a side junction in the glass-walled corridor, and quickly exited the showroom area. The area they entered was similar to the training areas they saw in the show room, though these lacked the high ceilings and glass-walled observation corridors. Jango and Obi-Wan walked until they reached a particular door that was slightly apart from the others. The door opened upon Jango’s approach. Inside, Obi-Wan found himself in a large shooting range. Young clone cadets were lined up at the shooting stations, engaged in targeting practice. Obi- Wan’s attention was drawn to a grown woman who stood behind one particular young clone cadet who recklessly blasted away at the holographic targets down range. The woman was dressed in Mandalorian armor similar to Jango’s, though designed to fit her decidedly well- endowed female form. Her long auburn hair trailed down her back in long, thick tresses. She looked over the young clone’s shoulder, and as Obi-Wan watched her, he could sense strong feelings of affection and nurturing care emanating from her. Presently, the young clone began to show signs of frustration, and THAT made him careless in his shooting. After a moment, the woman put a gentle hand on the young clone’s shoulder. The clone stopped firing and looked up at the woman. “I can’t do it, Zarina,” the young clone cried, “I just can’t shoot well enough to pass this target course.” The woman smiled down at the young clone with the air of a big sister. “Yes, you can,” Zarina encouraged. She turned the clone to face down range, then reached around him, holding his arms and guiding him in aiming at the targets. She restarted the target practice court. “First, don’t jerk the trigger,” Zarina said, “squeeze it…and relax. You should never go into battle with anger or fear in your heart. You should always be calm and collected, so you can think clearly. Remember your breathing exercises.” The young clone took a deep calming breath, then took aim. He adjusted the position of his finger on the blaster’s trigger, and squeezed it. The blaster shot went down rang and hit the holographic target square on the highest scoring ring. Another holographic target popped up, and the young clone fired. This new target was hit and replaced by yet another target. Obi-Wan and Jango moved down to that shooting lane. They watched as the young clone calmly progressed through the targeting course. In moments, the course was finished. The young clone cheered at the high score the computer displayed. “I did it, Zarina,” the clone cheered. “That’s good, Cadet,” Zarina replied, “now go through it again.” The young clone turned back to his shooting range and began shooting through the targeting course again. Meanwhile, Zarina turned to Jango and Obi-Wan. “Father,” Zarina said, “what brings you here?” “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, a knight of the Jedi Order,” Jango replied. “What brings you here, Jedi,” Zarina asked. “I seek information about the Chenko Brothers,” Obi-Wan said. Zarina blanched at the name before she could stop herself. Obi-Wan noticed this. “I take it you’ve heard of them,” Obi-Wan noted. “I have,” Zarina said, “they work for my true father.” “You’re true father,” Obi-Wan asked. “Zarina was born the daughter of Pre Vizsla,” Jango said, “she was quite young when she stole one of the Death Watch’s Fang Fighters and came to Mandalore. She was lucky Rana and I were coming home at that same time. We forced her to land.” “When I landed on Mandalore, Jango and his wife took me to see Duchess Satine Kryze,” Zarina explained, “I told her all about the Death Watch and all the dishonorable things my true father was doing.” “So, that’s why Pre Vizsla resigned from his post as governor of Concord Dawn,” Obi- Wan realized. “Yes,” Zarina said, “when the Duchess announced that she was going to investigate the allegations that he was leading the Death Watch, my true father resigned as governor of Concord Dawn. When the Duchess and her investigators arrived there was no sign of my true father OR the Death Watch.” “So, what do you know about the Chenko Brothers,” Obi-Wan asked. “They are commandos and assassins,” Zarina explained, “from what I’ve heard, they’ve served with the Death Watch since birth. They are the most skilled assassins in the Death Watch. My true father sends them out on missions that he does not want the Death Watch’s involvement known. They’re dangerous.” “Why would they want to assassinate Senator Amidala,” Obi-Wan asked. “If my true father has sent the Chenko Brothers after Senator Amidala,” Zarina replied, “then the Death Watch has been hired to assassinate her.” “Then the key to my investigation,” Obi-Wan noted, “is to find out who hired the Death Watch to kill Senator Amidala.” “The ones who know that,” Jango said, “are Pre Vizsla and the Chenko Brothers.” “Even so, the Chenko Brothers may not know who hired them,” Zarina said, “it’s one of my true father’s methods. He likes to keep his underlings ignorant of who hires the Death Watch.” “Logical,” Obi-Wan agreed, “given that they could never betray him if they get captured. Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask them…if I can find them.” “By now, they’ll have learned that a Jedi has been dispatched to investigate them,” Jango snorted, “no doubt they also know where you went. If you want my advice, Master Jedi, remain here. I assure you, the Chenko Brothers will show up here. They’ll try to kill you to throw off your investigation.” “Well,” Obi-Wan said, a tone of cordiality in his voice, “It appears I will be staying for a few days.” “You should join us for the evening meal, Master Jedi,” Zarina said with equal cordiality, “my mother is a master of the culinary arts.” “May I ask you a question, Zarina,” Obi-Wan asked. “By all means,” Zarina replied. “You speak of Pre Vizsla as your true father,” Obi-Wan said, “and yet you speak of Jango Fett as your father and his wife as your mother.” “That’s because after my true father escaped justice,” Zarina explained, “Jango Fett and his wife adopted me. I took ‘Fett’ as my surname, and abandoned my original clan.” “She’s been as good a daughter as a man could wish for,” Jango gushed, “she’s certainly been a good elder sister to my son.” “I’m looking forward to being a good sister to the unborn sibling mother carries in her womb,” Zarina said. “So,” Obi-Wan said, “when do you eat your evening meal?” “That’s one reason I sought out my daughter, Master Jedi,” Jango said, “my wife was just about to serve the evening meal.” “Well,” Obi-Wan said, gracing them with an amiable smile, “we shan’t keep Mrs. Fett waiting.” “I like you, Jedi,” Zarina said, “you’re every bit the good person my uncle has told me the Jedi are.” “You’re uncle,” Obi-Wan asked. “Uncle Silas,” Zarina said, “he knows all about the Jedi Knights. I think he might be a Jedi.” Something in Zarina’s voice told Obi-Wan not to speak what he knew about Silas Fett. “He may have simply traveled the galaxy and learned about the Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, “as a Mandalorian, your uncle was certainly wise enough to look beyond the traditional hate that Mandalorians typically feel for the Jedi.” “He taught me that a true warrior does not allow himself to fall prey to anger, hate or fear,” Zarina said. “When I was a child, master Yoda once told me that fear is the path to the Dark Side,” Obi-Wan explained, “fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering.” “That’s pretty much the same sort of thing Uncle Silas taught me,” Zarina gushed. “Your uncle is a wise man,” Obi-Wan said. “That’s all, cadets,” Zarina announced, clapping her hands in the manner of a school teacher, “off to your evening meal.” With that the cadets trooped out. After the clone cadets were gone, Zarina, Jango, and Obi-Wan left as well. The Royal Palace in Naboo’s capital city of Theed had changed very little in the ten years since Qui-Gon Jinn had last visited it. He noted a few new tapestries on the walls, and some of the statuary had changed as the Trade Federation’s invasion of the peaceful world had resulted in the destruction and/or theft of valuable statues. Qui-Gon reasoned the new statues had been brought in to replace statuary that had been destroyed. Qui-Gon followed a palace guard who guided him through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace. The guard was a petite woman, her uniform and jerkin did little to hide her shapely body, and her guard’s helmet could not entirely conceal her thick mane of bronze hair. In time, they reached a particular door that Qui-Gon was especially familiar with. “The Queen will see you now, Master Jedi,” the female guard said, her voice melodious and feminine. The door rumbled open when the guard touched a key on its control panel. “I offer my thanks,” Qui-Gon said as he walked through the door. Inside, Qui-Gon found Queen Jamillia sitting at the planetary monarch’s desk. She was slightly older than Padme, and not quite as petite. Though a trifle more physically built than her predecessor, Queen Jamillia was still a slight woman. Her face was painted in the traditional white, and her lower lip featured the red “split lip” lipstick stripe. Her desk and throne-like chair was flanked by a pair of lesser thrones in which two of the Queen’s handmaidens sat. Naboo government officials sat in chairs that flanked the desk, including Governor Sio Bibble, who looked only marginally older since the last time Qui-Gon saw him. The queen and her entourage all turned their collective gaze to look at the Jedi Master as he crossed the spacious official office of the sovereign ruler of the planet. Queen Jamillia looked at Qui-Gon and smiled beatifically. “We welcome you to Naboo, Master Jedi,” she lilted, “where is Senator Amidala? We much desired to speak to her.” “I fear I must decline to tell you of the senator’s whereabouts, your majesty,” Qui-Gon countered, “Given the current state of affairs, you are protected by your ignorance of her location.” “What do you mean, Master Jedi,” Sio Bibble demanded, “do you not trust us?” “My decision is not due to a lack of trust,” Qui-Gon explained, “but rather one of concern for your safety. Servants of the Dark Side can take many forms, and they have many spies. They would not hesitate to torture you to extract information on the senator’s whereabouts, and then kill you for their trouble.” “We will respect your decision, Master Jedi,” Queen Jamillia said, “but what are we to say if we are asked about Senator Amidala’s whereabouts?” “The Imperial Chancellor has sent Senator Amidala on a leave of absence,” Qui-Gon explained, “that she chose to travel to a hidden retreat shows that she values her privacy.” “That shall be our explanation, Master Jedi,” Queen Jamillia said, a lovely smile on her face. “I will take my leave of you, your majesty,” Qui-Gon said, then turned saying, “May the Force be with you.” Qui-Gon crossed the office to the door. “Master Jedi,” Queen Jamillia called after him. Qui-Gon turned and looked over his shoulder at her. “When you see Senator Amidala,” Queen Jamillia insisted, “tell her I send my best wishes.” “I shall, your majesty,” Qui-Gon said. With that, Qui-Gon exited. Anakin Skywalker stood at the railing of Varykino, the lake villa owned by the Naberrie family, of whom Padme Amidala was the most prominent member. The villa consisted of a house situated on Varykino Island, situated in the center of a large lake deep in the heart of Naboo’s Lake Country. The spacious balcony Anakin had found was close to his room. The luxury of the villa was several orders of magnitude above what Anakin was used to. Growing up a slave on , Anakin had lived in a tiny slave hovel. The only reason it had a room for both himself and his mother was because , their owner, had had the walls knocked down to combine several slave hovels into a one for the small family. Then he joined the Jedi Order. His quarters in the Jedi Temple were small, and simple, marginally better than his slave hovel on Tatooine. And yet, it was what he was accustomed to. He stood at the railing of the balcony, gazing out over the waters of the vast lake. He was lost in thought as he watched the waters. A fish leaped out of the lake water, and fell back in with a loud splash. “Are you ready for dinner, Ani,” came Padme’s voice from behind Anakin. Anakin centered himself with a deep, cleansing breath. He turned to face Padme, and caught his breath at seeing her. Padme was dressed in a slinky black evening gown that hugged her form without a wrinkle. The floor length skirt hugged her legs closely, and yet left her room enough to walk. A silver circlet encircled her head, and her hair was woven into an elaborate braid/bun secured at the nape of the neck. Anakin could not see her as anything but a vision of unsurpassed beauty. Padme noticed Anakin looking at her with more than his usual amount of interest. She could sense an increase in his infatuation with her. She blushed in spite of herself, brushing an imaginary lock of hair out of her face. “Do you like this dress,” she asked. “You look lovely, Padme,” Anakin breathed, his voice a tone of endless wonder. “We should go eat,” Padme murmured, finding herself equally lost in her own infatuation with Anakin. Anakin said nothing as Padme took his arm and guided him inside the villa. Their dinner was laid out for them deep in the villa’s rotunda, called the Room of Morning Mists. The hourglass-shaped table stood in the middle of the room, with only two chairs. Their dinner consisted of lightly broiled shaak steaks and shuura fruit. Padme and Anakin were seated by the villa’s cook, the youngest daughter of Paddy Accu, the villa’s caretaker. Seeing her charges served, the young cook took up a crystal carafe and served Anakin and Padme each a glass of a strong red wine that filled the table with a strong floral fragrance. The young cook hovered near them long enough to see that Anakin and Padme were enjoying their meal. Seeing this, she retreated to the kitchen. As Padme and Anakin ate, they made small talk, discussing little things to pass the time. Padme felt a warmth in her heart. The romantic tension of the moment was palpable, Padme could sense an overpowering feeling of unspent, unrequited love hovering over the table. She felt herself falling in love despite her reservations. She warred with herself. Anakin was a Jedi Padawan. He was not allowed to love. Attachments were forbidden to the Jedi Knights. However, Padme could not shake the memory of Yoda telling her that she was not forbidden to pursue a relationship with Anakin…yet had he been granted the same permission? Would he be expelled from the Jedi Order if it was discovered that he was Padme’s secret lover? And yet she found herself more drawn to Anakin than ever before. She burned with desire for him. She HAD to love him…he HAD to love her. Each passing second made her burn far worse for him. She could not comprehend how he couldn’t resist her. How could he NOT see how she was burning for want of him? How could he NOT know that she loved him? How could he NOT love her? She had to have him. She had to claim him as her own. And yet, he had to belong to her of his own free will, or else their love would turn to jealousy…hate…suffering. Was love the same as attachment? Could they belong to each other and yet be willing to let go of each other? Yoda reminded her that pursuing a relationship with Anakin would be like walking the edge of a knife, but that the ultimate rewards would be well worth the risk. That was why she ached for him, wanting him, yet not claiming him for herself unless he gave himself to her freely, and stayed with her because he wanted to, yet had a choice to leave if he so desired. Qui-Gon Jinn waited patiently as Paddy Accu piloted the gondola speeder to the dock at the base of the Varykino villa. The speeder bumped against the dock, and as the old caretaker tied it up, Qui-Gon stepped onto the dock and entered the villa. In the Room of Morning Mists, Qui-Gon found the young cook clearing away the dishes and silverware. She saw the Jedi Master looking at her and knew what he sought. She pointed to a nearby parlor. Qui-Gon looked and saw Padme and Anakin sitting on a sofa in front of a cozy fire burning merrily in an exquisite fireplace. He easily heard their conversation, and sensed their emotions. The Force burned with the romantic tension between them. “Do you desire a meal, Master Jedi,” the young cook asked. Qui-Gon regarded the young woman for a moment. He was feeling a slight hunger, and eating a meal out in the Room of Morning Mists would allow him to quietly listen to Anakin and Padme as they spoke to each other. “A light meal would be to my liking, young lady,” Qui-Gon replied. “As you wish,” the young cook chirruped. As she scurried away to fetch a meal from the kitchen, Qui-Gon seated himself at the table, and relaxed, allowing the Force to extend his hearing, enabling him to easily listen to them. Meanwhile, Anakin and Padme seemed to relax on the sofa, watching the flames burning in the fireplace. And yet, as relaxed as they were, the romantic tension between them was greater than ever. They sipped snifters of a light brandy that was famous in the lake country. They hadn’t spoken for several minutes now. The fear of what they would say and the changes their words would forge in their lives was overpowering. Ultimately, Padme could no longer stand the tension. She dared venture into the uncharted territory of their potential romance. “Ani,” she murmured, “do you believe that I have a lover?” “No,” Anakin replied, his response a touch too quick and his tone a shade too harsh, “it’s just so much stupid gossip. It’s just stupid people spouting meaningless drivel about things they do not understand!” “Anakin,” Padme insisted, “if you wanted to become my lover…I…I wouldn’t stop you.” Anakin surged to his feet. His eyes were wild, his heart aching with conflicting emotions. “How can you ask me that,” he demanded, feeling deep conflict, “I’m studying to become a Jedi Knight! You’re an Imperial Senator! Our lives are too different! How could we be lovers?” “Anakin, how can you not sense the love I feel for you,” Padme cried, “I feel the conflict inside you!” “There IS no conflict,” Anakin howled. “Yes, there is,” Padme challenged, “I feel it! You love me…as much as I love you!” “WE CAN’T LOVE EACH OTHER,” Anakin screamed, “IT’S FORBIDDEN…FOR BOTH OF US!” “Really,” Padme protested, “you’re so sure?” “We are both Jedi,” Anakin stated with finality. “My mandate is to maintain the image of an imperial senator,” Padme breathed, “that comes with certain expectations. People look at me, and they see a young, beautiful woman. They expect me to have a lover. Even Master Yoda told me it would be perfectly acceptable for me to take a lover. Am I so wrong to choose a lover that I truly love? Is it so terrible that I choose true love over pure physical pleasure? Am I not allowed to choose a husband that I want to spend my life with, instead of a boy-toy that I play with for a while then throw away like worthless garbage?” “What are you saying,” Anakin asked. “I asked Master Yoda if I was permitted to love you,” Padme confessed, “he told me that it was not forbidden. And when I asked if we could pursue a relationship, he left that up to me! Anakin, I choose to love you…truly love you! Yoda told me that love is like walking the edge of a knife. It is a terrible risk, and yet the rewards would be worth it.” “Padme,” Anakin breathed. “Ani, we weren’t brought together by chance or luck,” Padme cried, “it was the Force. It is the will of the Force that we love each other. Why do you fight it?” “I…I can’t,” Anakin stammered, his tone betraying his doubt, “I can’t fight it!” “So, you DO feel something,” Padme cried, hope surging in her heart. “Yes,” Anakin breathed, “I…I want to love you…but I am not permitted! The Jedi aren’t allowed to form attachments.” “You can’t stop yourself from forming attachments,” Padme protested, “nobody can.” “Then how,” Anakin begged. “You love me of your own free will,” Padme explained, “and at the same time, you allow yourself to let go of me.” “What do you mean,” Anakin asked. “Cling to me too hard,” Padme said, “and our love will turn sour, and fill with jealousy. The Dark Side will corrupt our love. But if you allow yourself to let go of that which you fear to lose, you give me the luxury of being with you with total freedom, and know that I am with you through thick and thin. I could leave you at any moment, but I don’t because I love you. Love me without caging me, Ani, and you have a wife forever. Squeeze me too tightly and you will ultimately doom me to an early death! You have to choose to love me…or kill me. The choice is yours, Ani.” Anakin looked at Padme. He could sense the pure, honest, unconditional love she felt for him. She wanted to love him with no strings attached. She asked nothing more of him than for him to return her love with the same pure, honest, unconditional love. He wanted to feel the same for her. He wanted to love her. Were the rewards worth the risk? He never knew how Padme ended up in his arms, nor how they came to be kissing. All he knew was that he and Padme were suddenly holding each other, desperately kissing. The fires of passion burned inside them both. They could no longer resist each other. They had to give into the romantic tension that had oppressed them all through the evening. They desperately clung to each other as if they feared this precious moment of love would turn out to be a dream. They somehow left the intimate little parlor, and found their way up to Anakin’s room. Their kisses became more feverish and urgent. They had reached a point where they could no longer turn back. What was about to happen would not be stopped. Padme eagerly pulled at Anakin’s Jedi robes. They had to make love. To their passion fogged minds, they were suddenly stripped naked, their clothes scattered all around the room, and neither cared how. Padme lay down on the bed, moaning at the feeling of Anakin’s weight coming down on top of her, his hips settling between her legs. The inevitable was about to happen. In the Room of Morning Mists, Qui-Gon quietly dined on the meal the beautiful young cook provided him. It was the same simple fare that she had made for Anakin and Padme. Though Qui-Gon had opted for a light herbal tea in lieu of wine. The cook sat down with her own meal, and ate with Qui-Gon. She ate quietly, and Qui-Gon did not press her to speak. She ate her meal, then waited for Qui-Gon. When he had finished his meal, she cleared the dishes away and excused herself to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Qui-Gon took his holoprojector out of its pouch, and activated it. Grand Master Yoda’s hologram hovered above the small device. “Master Qui-Gon,” Yoda said, “something to report, have you?” “Our two star-crossed lovers have finally collided,” Qui-Gon said, “and love is blossoming.” “Excellent this is,” Yoda said, “Interfere with them, do not. The love they share…let it grow to its fullest flower.” “Why is it important that Anakin and Padme pursue a relationship,” Qui-Gon asked. “Inseparable the Chosen Ones must be,” Yoda said, “powerful Jedi their children will be…but by BOTH their parents they must be raised.” “I see,” Qui-Gon said. “Train Skywalker to let go of that which he fears to lose,” Yoda warned, “or by his hands will Padme die!” “I agree,” Qui-Gon said, “Anakin still clings too much to those he loves. I sense he will face a terrible trial soon. How he reacts to it will rule his ultimate fate.” On the stormy world of Kamino, a Mandalorian Lancer-class pursuit ship cruised through the clouds, using the storm as cover. After a few hours, the ship dropped out of the clouds, and dove toward Tipoca City, using heavy rain bands to hide her approach, and the ship from appearing on Tipoca City’s scanners by projecting false readings to appear to be a normal Kaminoan patrol ship. Presently, the Lancer-class ship landed on a landing platform on one of the domes at the edge of the city. The ship’s boarding ramp lowered, and the Chenko Brothers stepped down from it. “Why are we here, Brother,” demanded the smaller brother, “Senator Amidala is not here.” “No, brother,” replied the larger brother, “but the Jedi sent to investigate us may know where she’s hiding.” “So, what,” the smaller brother snorted, “doesn’t change things.” “Idiot,” the larger brother scolded, “we are going to torture the Jedi for the senator’s location…and then we will kill him.” “Jedi are hard to kill,” the smaller brother mused, “some say it is impossible.” “WE ARE DEATH WATCH,” the larger brother growled, “there is NO ONE we can’t kill.” “Very well, brother,” the smaller brother grunted, “let’s get this over with. The sooner we torture this Jedi, the sooner we kill Senator Amidala and move on to more important things. I grow weary of this mission. That Senator Amidala has proven to be far too much trouble.” “She would already be dead if that idiot Cad Bane had done a better job,” the larger brother grumbled, “now he is rotting in an imperial prison on Coruscant.” “We should never have hired that worthless Duros to begin with,” the smaller brother growled. “It was Master Vizsla’s orders, Brother,” the larger brother warned, “he did not want our involvement known.” “Are we suddenly young children with no skills,” the smaller brother countered, “how can Master Vizsla order us to hire an outsider to complete our mission. That outsider is now in prison, and we have to finish the mission ourselves anyway!” “Silence, Brother,” the larger brother snarled, “we must finish this mission before the Kaminoans discover us!” The smaller brother drew one of his blaster pistols, and checked its power pack. “While we are here,” the smaller brother said, twirling his blaster and holstering it with a flourish, “let’s do Master Vizsla a favor and kill Jango Fett and his family as well.” “Kill one enemy at a time, Brother,” the larger brother warned. Keeping quiet as the grave, the Chenko Brothers stole into the nearby city entrance. The End

Disclaimers and Author's Notes – , its characters, and all related material are owned by Limited, a subsidiary of the Walt Disney Company.

IN THE NEXT EPISODE: The Chenko Brothers attack Obi-Wan, Jango, and Zarina. While their battle is brief, Obi-Wan, Jango and Zarina just manage to drive the Chenko Brothers to retreat from Kamino. Obi-Wan chooses to pursue them, with Jango and Zarina close behind them. Meanwhile on Naboo, Anakin is tormented by a dream in which his mother is being tortured. It is bad enough that he must go to Tatooine to see her. Qui-Gon and Padme insist on going with him. While Anakin, Padme, and Qui-Gon search Tatooine for Shmi Skywalker, Obi- Wan, Jango, and Zarina follow the Chenko Brothers to the planet Geonosis. Will Anakin find his mother? Why have the Chenko Brothers gone to Geonosis? Meanwhile, the separatist crisis is boiling over. War may be inevitable. Find out what happens in the next chapter of “Star Wars: The Jedi Chronicles, Episode 2: Army of the Jedi”.