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Chapter 8: Anakin

Mos Espa, Tatooine, 37 BBY

Finding Watto’s scrapyard was easy due to Anakin shining like a beacon to my Force senses. The others couldn’t sense him as clearly as me for some reason, but even they could feel the direction the Force was nudging us.

As we approached the domed, adobe structure, Qui-Gon placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke in a low tone. “I’ll take care of the talking, but if your senses tell you something important, don’t hesitate to speak up.”

Considering he was the most experienced among us in diplomacy and I doubted Watto would take me seriously, I simply nodded and let him take the lead.

Stepping into the shop was surreal. Not because I recognized the place - Watto’s shop wasn’t exactly one of the most iconic locations - but because of the inhabitants of the cluttered space.

The blue Toydarian immediately took flight from where he had been sitting by a table and approached us while speaking what I assumed to be a friendly welcome. I didn’t speak Huttese.

Left by the table he had abandoned though, was the boy of the hour.

The blond-haired Chosen One was sitting hunched over what seemed to be a pit droid with a hydrospanner in his hand. He looked up curiously as we entered, and his eyes fell on me and my unique alien features. I smiled at him and gave him a short wave, which he returned with some confusion.

Beside me, Qui-Gon spoke to Watto. “I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, representing the Jedi Order. It has come to our attention that one of your… employees may have talents we are looking for.”

At this, Anakin’s eyes threatened to pop out of his skull, but Watto took on a guarded stance before responding: “Ehh, the Jedi have no authority here. My slaves are my property, not something you can just claim.”

“Of course,” Qui-Gon said with a slight frown at people being referred to as property. “We are willing to compensate you for your troubles.”

“Now we’re talking business, eh?” He said with an enthusiastic smile as Qui-Gon pulled an aurodium coin from his robes. “Come, sit, sit.” He added and gestured to the table before shouting something to Anakin in Huttese.

Anakin hurriedly grabbed the droid off the table and disappeared out the back door.

“Now, what is your offer?” Watto asked with the shrewdness of a businessman as he and Qui-Gon both sat down. “Both my slaves are good, hard workers. I can’t let them go for cheap, you understand, eh?”

As they started discussing the price, Anakin came back with his mother in tow. She had a neutral expression on her face as she placed two drinks on the table, but I could feel worry and excitement both swirling inside her. Anakin was also holding back his emotions, clearly recognizing the seriousness of the situation, but in the Force, he was a ball of excitement.

“Ehh, you see,” Watto said after some discussion, scratching his chin. “My pod-racer got wrecked in the last race. Crashed out in the wastes. That’s a big and unexpected expense. Even if I can recover the parts, I’ll bet they’re nothing more than scrap. If I’m down two slaves at the same time as I’m looking for a new podracer and driver, that’ll cut into business, you see?”

At that, I felt a nudge from the Force and instinctively broke into the conversation. “I’ll take that bet!”

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I was as confused by those words as everyone looking at me was. Why was the Force encouraging gambling?

Sinking back into the force to find the right direction, I continued: “I’ll take Anakin with me. We can find and fix the podracer for you.”

The other Jedi were too stunned at my words to say anything, but Watto looked at me with a smile. “Hmm, an interesting bet, but if you fail, I only lose, and if you succeed, I don’t gain more than I had,” He said, scratching his chin in thought again. “How about this? I’ll sell you the boy, if you can bring me back the podracer in working condition, I’ll sell you the mother.”

The Force nudged me again, and I held out my hand. “Deal!”

He grabbed it and grinned as he said: “I like this one, Jedi. You have a deal!”

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“What possessed you to make that bet!?” It had been a while since I had seen Komari express this much emotion. She wasn’t angry, just incredibly exasperated. She was used to my antics and knew that, so far, they had all turned out well, but that didn’t prevent her from worrying.

“The Force?” I responded cautiously. “Honestly, I questioned my own sanity too, but the feeling the Force is giving me is clear. This will work out. Trust me.”

She stared at me for a long while, before eventually, she sighed, shook her head, and said: “I swear, I’ll be older than Master Dooku by the end of this mission.” Before kneeling and capturing me in an embrace and speaking softly in my ear: “I do trust you, I just worry. This is a dangerous planet.”

I returned her embrace, and instead of speaking, I sent feelings of reassurance across our bond.

When Anakin and Shmi had introduced themselves, my fellow Jedi seemed even more reassured that there was some kind of fate that tied us together. That our first names were similar was one thing, but the fact that the Jedi caretakers had given me the same family as the only other person in known history to have a higher midi-chlorian count than me was too much for them to consider it a coincidence.

“I don’t seem so bad now, do I Master?” Obi-Wan asked Qui-Gon to our side.

“No,” He responded. “You do not. We are lucky that Watto seems to be fond of gambling, otherwise this might not have worked out.”

I looked up at him and said with a smile: “Luck has nothing to do with it, Master. I simply trusted the Force.”

This was true, and since they could all sense the truth in my words, they went along with my plan.

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“So are you a Jedi too?” Anakin asked me, stars in his eyes as he drove the speeder towards the crash site.

“A Padawan,” I answered with a smile. The boy’s excitement was infectious. “Sort of like a Jedi in training. Master Komari has the responsibility of training me until I have learned enough to pass the Trials of Knighthood and become a full Jedi Knight. And we call people Master as a sign of respect. It’s not the same as a slave master. You don’t really have to call anyone that unless you want to.”

“Wizard!” Was all he had to say to that.

Watto had let us borrow an old, disposable speeder to get to the crash site. While I could have piloted it - I had training from the simulators at the Temple after all - I knew Anakin was a natural and let him take care of the controls. After driving for two minutes he had stopped, jumped out, done something with the engine, and when he jumped back in we were going at twice the speed we had previously. A natural indeed.

He kept asking me questions about the Temple and the Jedi in general as he drove us across the desert. I answered his questions happily. Although, I did try to temper his expectations. I felt that one of the reasons he had fallen in the alternate timeline was because he had thought the Jedi infallible, and when they did fail, his world started gradually crumbling around him.

I told him about life in the Temple, Master Yoda, and my best friend; Asajj. The thought that Asajj Ventress and Anakin Skywalker might become friends in this reality was somewhat amusing and also stood as a beacon of what I was hoping to accomplish. Another reason I felt for Anakin’s fall was that he was isolated. Much of this was because of Sidious’ machinations, but if I could preempt this by making sure he had friends in the Order, he would have a much harder time turning Anakin against us.

It took us about two hours at the speeder's new and improved full speed before we reached the crash site.