How glorious it is to die in time!

* Anakin Skywalker *

As expected. I expected the worst, and my suspicions were confirmed - we, or rather Qui-Gon and his apprentice, were sent to the neumodia, and with the task to penetrate and disable part of the planetary shield. I had no idea exactly how the system worked, but I seem to recall something from the canon... though not from this era.

Qui-Gon left, followed by his apprentice, and I was left alone, in the company of Erdwah. The droid squeaked something really cheerful, and moved into the middle of the cabin.

The ship began to shake and I had to sit in my chair, but Erdva, designed for repair work in outer space, wouldn't even feel the shaking. Its center of gravity is practically above the caterpillars, on the bottom, so it's not an easy task to tip the bucket. The Chumbley.

After the jolt was over, the Jedi returned.

- Anakin, you heard our assignment. I hope nothing bad happens to you.

- Who knows, Qui-Gon, who knows? I've been so unlucky lately with all sorts of "accidents" that they don't seem to be accidents...

Oddly enough, it worked for Qui-Gon. I was right - Jedi are closer to philosophers by upbringing, so they can think in a specific way.

- You can't be sure of that either, Anakin. Obi-Wan? You heard the orders, so get ready, get everything you need.

- Yes, Master. - Kenobi responded, and with a brief glance at me, went to his quarters.

A few minutes later, the ship landed with a crash. I hoped, of course, that the crackling belonged to the shamelessly destroyed flora of Neimodia and not to the hull of the ship.

The Jedi dressed and fully clothed, and I was left alone, not counting the droid. Oh, yes, and the ship's crew, too.

- Erdva, what do you think about this? Maybe we should have informed HQ that I was on the ship.

- ** It's no use. Inexpedient. ** - He squeaked in Binary.... And I happen to know him! What a piece of news.

- Why? We wouldn't be at that risk.

- Disabling the shield would be costly... analyzing... overcoming with weapons... siege the planet... at least a hundred liner-class ships and bombarding the shield... the feasibility of sabotage is confirmed. And the language is primitive, designed for technical communication. Apparently, it was not fated to utter something philosophical in binary. But it is brief and clear - what is the risk of two Jedi compared to the prospect of throwing bombs at the planet's shield, wasting a mountain of money and effort?

- Erdva, why did you come with us in the first place?

- **Unconfirmed. Not "with you," you didn't realize what ship you were in. **

- But-but-but-but! Don't get off the subject! By the way, it was an accident that I got on that ship. But I saw you. I drove up there myself. And don't tell me you confused this trough with the Nubian!

- Confirmed. Confirmed. **

- Oh, yeah? You're gonna play dumb? Well, that's your right. - I admit it. If he doesn't want to argue, then fuck it. He's a strange droid.

I turned away from Erdev and stared at the simulator droid. The bastard had bugged me a few times, but after I not only called the lightsaber a lightsaber, but realized some similarity in its possible style of use, it was easier. The hat was probably the longest-lived weapon in the army - even in the era of machine guns and armored cars, it could be found on the battlefield. However, bearing in mind how often hand-to-hand combat was fought in World War II, it is possible that they gave up a checkers in vain - they were indispensable weapons in combat. First of all, an experienced fighter will take out a saber and strike faster than he takes out his gun and shoots. It's like with cowboys - there's a fast one and there's a dead one. But the main difference of a saber from a sword is that it "grew" from knife and was used for striking, not power strokes. It didn't have the tools to fight armored knights, but it was very fast. And, of course, I've seen a couple of demonstrations on TV - when this very same saber was swung left and right, just like some Japanese martial arts masters. The secret is that it is not a martial skill at all, but rather an exercise in wielding weapons, which requires a clear sense of center of gravity and rotation of the blade, that is, to work with the hand.

I felt uneasy - the Jedi were gone, the droid was silent, the ship's crew was somewhere at the control station, and I was alone in the oppressive silence. After thinking for a while, I switched on my sword and, without blindfolding myself, began to practice my new movement. The captain of the ship caught me doing this - he ran out of his cabin and turned his attention to me:

- "Are you a Jedi? It's an emergency. There's a Neimodian patrol ship headed this way. It looks like they've spotted us.

- What? How? When?

- Just now. There's a ship on dradis, a military ship!

- Son of a..." I said nothing and looked up at the Captain, "and what are you talking to me for?

- We are subordinate to the Jedi! What are we supposed to do?

- Nah, we got no one to ask," I grumbled, "is the shield still up?

- Yes.

- Then bring the ship up, the generator must have an air defense..." I wondered urgently what we should do. Go back for Qui-Gon?

- On the bridge, now! - I was the first one in the gangway, and I made my way to the control room. There were two more people in there, sitting behind their monitors, not paying any attention to me.

- How far from here to the nearest spaceport?

- About ten kilometers. - One of the operators told me.

- Do you have contact with Qui-Gon?

- Yes, do you want me to set it up?

- Yes, if you can. Where's the ship? Have we been spotted?

- We're about to be spotted. - The same technician answered, gritting his teeth.

- Take off and head for the spaceport. Get me Qui-Gon, quick!

Before I could finish my sentence, the ship shook and rocked, and we began to climb.

- We've been spotted. Full throttle for the spaceport! - said the captain, holding on to the back of one of the chairs.

A rather swampy landscape with ugly gray trees flashed through the windshield and we were off.

- Yes?" came Qui-Gon's voice over the cabin.

- I have contact," the man said, and clicked even faster on the touch keys of the holo-monitor.

All I have to do now is sound out the space like a fool:

- "Qui-Gon, can you hear us?

- Can you hear us all right? What have you got there?

At that moment, a red blaster shot past the ship and into the swamp. The crew, who had saved the ship from being hit, cursed quietly in three voices, and the captain loudly ordered: "Shields to full power!"

- I see. Have you been detected? I shouldn't have relied on the noise from the unfolding shield... they must have had some other means of detection. - Said the speakers and went silent.

- Qui-Gon? Can he hear me? We're leaving for the nearest spaceport. Shut down the shield now, we'll contact Yoda and report back!

- Don't bother. We just have to check the second floor. Okay... I'll contact the Master myself, and you guys try not to get in any trouble. - And he passed out.

- Oh... - I didn't have enough swear words to express my attitude to his "try not to get in any trouble".

- Captain! When do we get to the spaceport?

- In a minute.

At that moment, one of the operators put up an image of the ship chasing us. It was a fighter jet.

- I don't think we're going to get away from a fighter..." moaned the captain of the ship and sat down in his chair.

- Whatever. Let's go to the spaceport. Maybe we'll make it.

Just at that moment, the shield over the planet disappeared, opening the nemodia to the invading armies of the Republic. I looked up, small but fast-growing black dots began to appear in the sky within seconds. Our own.

As we fled, our ship shook three more times, and I think there were even hits, until the foggy haze below revealed the buildings and the landing pad. The landing looked like a fall, but the crew made it through, even though the landing looked like a fall.

- Everybody out, now! - shouted the captain at the crew, and I followed them, just in time to check if my sword and credit card were in place.

Almost made it. Almost - the big uncles with big feet lunged faster and sprinted forward, clutching their blasters, while I, seaming after them, lagged behind. The last thing I remembered before I lost consciousness was an explosion behind me-our ship was finished, after all, and when I was thrown back on the wet concrete, I saw a monstrous-looking ship, at least half a mile long, slamming its turbolasers into the spaceport's air defense point...

* The Corvette CR-70.

The hum of crossed swords forced the corvette's crew to flee to the captain's cabin and lock themselves in there. The small crew was certainly no stranger to the oddities of their employer, but the captain and his assistants knew firsthand how dangerous it could be to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After three minutes of relative silence, a bang was heard behind the blast-proof door, and the ship's computer display glowed an alarming red.

- What is it?

- Main compartment depressurization, sir! - said the tech, shouting over the obnoxious sound of the siren.

- Drop the bolts! - commanded the ship's captain, and in a few seconds the broken windows of the main hall were covered with heavy and airtight dursteel plugs. The sound of the siren on the bridge ceased.

- Who'll go? - The captain asked the XO. He swallowed, looked at his fellow astronavigator and, with a heavy sigh, went into the hall.

And in the hall, sitting on the floor, the tall Muun was breathing heavily. His race was survivable enough to even survive depressurization, but not for long. The steel bolts that came down almost immediately were considered commonplace by Muun - whoever his crew was not slow, so he came up with this trick. Wounded, with his clothes scorched by lightning, Muun Plagas, better known as Hego Damascus, tried to catch his breath and recover from the unpleasant sensations of outer space-cold and decompression.

The door crept aside and the ship's XO appeared on the threshold, immediately rushing over to him as he saw his superior like this, asking as he went:

- "Are you hurt? Do you need help?

- Yes. Medroid here," said Plagas coolly. Though his abilities didn't allow him to heal, he could pump them full of energy to where they had been injured, or merely stimulate their regeneration.

The XO immediately rushed back when he was reached by the call of the ship's master:

- Stop! There's a man in space. Finish what's left of the turbolasers. Make sure there aren't any ashes left.

- Aye, aye! - The assistant captain stretched out and ran back to the bridge of the ship.

* Neimodia, staff ship *

The Jedi Master of the Order landed in his staff ship at the planet's central capital spaceport. The city had been in turmoil for several hours now - Trade Federation pilots were leaving the planet in droves, so much so that they could barely catch them in time. Some managed to slip away, taking their transport ships, sometimes with their cargo. Huge, gray dreadnoughts shadowed the squat buildings of the capital, looming like a sword of Damocles over the surface. Separately there were squads of fighters.

The Master was not expecting a welcome; his goal was only to capture Nut Gunray and get everything he knew about the Sith out of him.

Once around the bridge, unnoticed by anyone, Yoda stepped into the wide quarters and asked his secretary-armor to assemble all the Jedi in the hall. Within minutes of receiving the news via comlinks, the Jedi, numbering thirty, entered the hall. All sorts of faces were present, from a twee girl with a pretty face and seductive outfit to the seeming embodiment of Plo Koon's nightmare. In reality, Plo Koon was a kind and fair Jedi, but his race's repulsive appearance made it difficult to talk to him.

After a theatrical pause, the master spoke:

- We are gathered here to put an end to the outlaws. But beyond that, there is something else you need to know. The head of the Trade Federation, Nuth Gunray, has knowledge I need very much. You must bring him to me, alive and well. The last defense is the Trade Federation palace, that's where he's most likely to be. The skies over the capital and the capital's regions are already blocked, so there's no way he can escape. Bring him to me safe and sound... If he were alive he'd be able to talk.

The Jedi looked at each other as they heard the commands, but they did not dare argue with the Master and began to leave when they saw that Yoda had finished his briefing.

- Wait, Plo-kun, I have something special to do with you.

- Yes, Master? - Plo-Kun stopped and, after waiting for his comrades to leave the room, turned his full attention to Yoda.

- Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan were attacked in the spaceport near the dark swamps. Their planetary shields were disabled, but their ship was attacked. They need help, urgently. - The Master said muffled.

- You mean they are without transport?

- I do not know. Maybe not, maybe yes. Contact them and find out and help them get out. You can get the coordinates of their disabled planetary generator from the ship's commander. That's it, Plo, I said it all. - Yoda stopped talking as he watched Plo leave for the bridge without waiting for his audience to end.

* Anakin Skywalker *

The return of consciousness made me nostalgic for the time when I first appeared on Tatooine after an unknown soul transfer incident or something. Only now my body was both weak and unwilling to move, and my shoulder and back hurt terribly.

I opened my eyes. Thank goodness I was not in hell, and especially not in Sudan. It meant I could live. Unfamiliar ceiling. White, with nasty white lights, and the buzzing of a droid nearby. Turned my head. Okay, this is getting interesting. The droid is nothing more than a flying ball with a bunch of manipulators, which is now driving some kind of beam over my long-suffering body.

- Ahem..." I could only make a sound. The droid immediately put his laser away and, turning around, flew out the door. The cabin, or rather the sickbay, was small - for two beds, the size of a compartment. A pile of equipment was mounted on the walls - probably for the droids.

I looked around again, more closely.

No sooner had I regained my sobriety than a man I didn't know, dressed dapperly, with a light blaster on his belt, walked into the cabin.

- Are you all right, lad, alive? - he asked me.

- Yes," I answered, and I coughed again, "do you have any water?

- I've got it. - He went out and after half a minute he came back with a glass of cold clean water and handed it to me:

- Here, drink," he introduced himself while I drank, "Julian Cleavian. I know, I know, it sounds a little poser. - he smiled, seeing my confusion.

- And I'm Anakin Skywalker. I just have one question, where am I?" I asked this Julian.

- You're aboard the transport ship Lucky Star...

- Ahem, Ahem... what did you say?

- Uh... lucky star? Why, it's a good name by the way! - The man took offense, but then he continued: - And anyway, I save you and you still have something to complain about?

- Saved? And who are you?

- The captain of this fi... ship. - he said, stopping. - That's awesome.

But he didn't respond to my moaning, just waited a few seconds for form, then asked:

- Okay, let me get this straight. When the shields fell, I, like everyone else, rushed to the spaceport, away from the mess. Thank God my ship is from the Trade Federation. While the dreadnoughts were engaged in air defense, I ran to the spaceport and took off. I gave the command to get the ship ready when I saw you lying there, and the bucket next to you was electrocuting you...

- "Bucket?"

- Well, an astrodroid. It's the same shape... Well, I looked, I saw he was alive. And I got you both.

- What, just like that? - I raised an eyebrow, but all I got was a smirk on Julian's middle-European face.

- Yes, just like that. Especially since it's unlikely Astrodroid was helping anyone else. So your boy's parents are one of ours, huh?

- "Your kind," as in pilots?

- It doesn't matter. Pilots, technicians...

- Not exactly parents, but yes, you could say that. - I hesitated. It was dangerous to answer in detail at the moment - who the hell knew how this Julian was with the Jedi.

- Well, let's see, then. Not everyone managed to escape..." the pilot grimaced.

- No problem with that, my parents aren't on Neimodia. - I said cautiously.

- Yeah? Then what were you doing there?

- Um... let's just say I flew in with some family friends on business. But something seemed to have gone wrong...

- All right, kid, get well, get plenty of sleep. We're going to a Huttian planet to legalize the ship, and then we'll see what to do with you. Maybe they'll pay for your salvation... - He answered and left the micro chamber.

It gets weirder and weirder, as a girl used to say... I wondered, not paying attention to the Medroid that flew in. It looks like Erdva was trying to bring me to my senses, some runaway pilot saw it and decided to save me. But what reason would he have to do that? Just out of solidarity with his colleagues? I don't think so. I don't feel a slave chip in me, and I don't feel anything like that. Believe it or not in this Han Solo impersonation? Especially since he didn't win the ship at cards, he stole it. "Maybe they'll pay," he said, too... though I shouldn't rule out the version that the man helped out of the goodness of his heart.

I spent the whole day in the sickbay, after which I got up myself and, ignoring the droid, went out into the general compartment.

Unlike the passenger yacht, the cargo ship had minimal living space, so the compartment between the cargo cabins, the bridge, and the crew quarters was like a large wagon vestibule.

Figuring that the captain of the wreck with the nicotine name "Lucky Star" was probably on his bridge, I went there. On the way I found out some interesting details - the trough is a rather old and small cargo ship. The equipment in the control room, like everything else, was a symbol of the era - large, control panel-like panels of the first computers, work tables, two chairs, holomonitors, and, of course, the captain himself.

- Julian?

- Anakin? - He turned in his swivel chair and looked me over.

- I was... wondering where we were. - I said, remembering that it would be a good idea to contact my people and let them know that I was alive. But I didn't want to trust the holonet to do that, and I have no idea how to contact Qui-Gon by it.

- We're almost there. Wait a minute... yes, in half an hour we leave the hyper and go to Tatooine! - He replied, smiling.

- Ahem... what did you say? Tatooine?

- I see you're familiar with that hole. Yes, Tatooine. Couldn't be a better place to change my name for a ship, and there's plenty of work to be had there. - Said Julian, smiling.

I wonder if he knew exactly where I was from? I don't think so, so it was a coincidence. Especially since Tatooine is a really appropriate hole for this kind of criminal enterprise.

- Julian, you said you brought a droid. You know, the "bucket" that...

- He's in the engine room right now, seeing what happened to the sublight engines.

- Okay. Well, I'll be off then...

- Move it along, get out of the way. - He said grumpily, turned back and did some manipulations on the remote control. I remembered something on the way out, and turned to Julian, or rather the back of his head:

- Julian, that's... let's go to the Mos-Asley spaceport. There are the right specialists there, especially since I know someone...

Julian took his eyes off the monitor and turned to look at me intently.

I only had to make a more naive look, and smile. The captain, who smirked at that, agreed and turned again to his instruments...

Erdva was in the engine room. While the engines for flight in normal, not at all hyperspace, were not working, he was fixing something with the built-in soldering iron. Erdva reacted to my appearance as violently as a droid can - he let out a joyful trill and turned his entire body and abandoned his work.

- Are you all right?

- Yes, as far as I can tell. How are you, all right?

- Ninety-seven percent operational. - Answered the droid in his tech.

- Well, that's great. I'm going to disappoint you, Erdva, but we're going to Tatooine.

- The dust is negatively affecting the mechanical systems. - He squeaked.

- Well, don't complain. This sand is even more hateful to me, but it looks like the captain is outlawed.

- Your inventory. - Erdva opened one of the covers on the casing and a manipulator with a sword clutched in it came forward. A lightsaber. I'd completely forgotten about it, and immediately checked everything I had on me. My pockets were empty.

- Did you take my stuff?

- Sword of Light two pieces. Bank clan chips. Two of them. - The droid beeped.

- I mean money and weapons. Thank you - I accepted my sword from the manipulator, then the situation repeated itself and the droid took out the rest of the items from his iron body. A training sword and my prrrelease - bank chips. I don't know how I would be without money... though what am I - a couple of thousand credits would be enough to get to Naboo - I could steal that in a couple of hours on any planet with water, air and money.

- Thank you," I checked both swords to make sure they worked, and then hid them in my pockets, money as well - both credit cards with an impressive amount of money, enough to buy the best yacht in the galaxy.

- Copy that. Can I get back to work? - the droid asked, looking at me with his camera eye.

- Yes, yes, of course. Do you think this ship is worth using, or should I buy Julian a new one as a salvage gift?

- Fair enough. The core systems are at... twenty-seven percent depleted.

- Well, then Julian's out of luck. - I turned around, hearing the droid behind me buzzing its caterpillars, back to work.

* Justice Corps Headquarters *

Master Yoda was pensive and distressed. The arriving Jedi did not go to the report, but immediately went to the medics, but the gist of what had happened needed no explanation - Noot Gunray had escaped. The cunning peddler easily got away from the Justice Corps, taking money and ships with him. Only the middle-ranking leaders were apprehended, but the entire board of directors flew away with Gunray. And a small army of droids, along with a bunch of fighters, created only the appearance of defense.

However, even that was enough to sum it up - the forces available to the chancellor are unable to solve such a problem, only to scare, and even that very conditionally. Gunray wouldn't be seriously afraid of a mountain of ancient, unfit for combat ships run by pilots who'd long since taken their places and were shivering in their knees that they were charged with something more serious than collecting "tribute" from smugglers.

"Still, the Justice Corps has something in common with the Army. They are all as one - equally fat and without deep thought in their eyes," thought the Jedi Master of the Order and asked to be put in touch with Qui-Gon.

*Spaceport.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were glad that they had not been forgotten and promptly sent help. After all, this is rare in the Order and often Jedi can only count on themselves, but on Neimodia the situation was fundamentally different - there was practically a war, or more precisely - a siege of the planet. The shuttle with Jedi Plo arrived and was greeted with relief.

The shuttle descended between the trees and the hatch opened, and the Jedi didn't wait long and immediately stepped inside. And there was no one inside except Plo Koon, who turned to Qui-Gon and remarked in satisfaction:

- It's a good thing you didn't go far. Where is your ship?

- It was attacked, they took off... probably at the nearest spaceport. - Qui-Gon said, catching his breath in the fresh filtered air, not the Neimodian swamp air.

- Oh, yeah? Where to?

- To the spaceport. The nearest one. - Obi-Wan answered in place of his teacher, earning a disgruntled look from Qui-Gon. Plo nodded, returned to the controls, and steered the shuttle to the nearest spaceport.

It was a dilapidated dreadnought cargo port, with at least fifty ships scattered about. Standing in the cockpit, Qui-Gon had a bird's eye view of the utter devastation. Some ships were burning down, the warehouse was on fire, and the droids were putting it out, ignoring the chaos around them.

The normally clean landing site was awash in oil, fuel, and strewn with shipwrecks. Obi-Wan commented on the situation:

- I have a bad feeling about this, Master. A very bad feeling.

- I agree. It's not a pleasant place to be. - Qui-Gon nodded and continued to peer into the terrain below them. The shuttle, piloted by Plo Koon, sailed over the ruined spaceport and landed between the wreckage of ships.

Qui-Gon and his apprentice hurriedly went outside and began searching for the ship. After circling several of the burned-out wrecks, Obi-Wan found the ship he was looking for by the remnants of the red and white, diplomatic hull paint job.

- Master, here! - he shouted, and as Qui-Gon approached, they examined the burned ship. The fuselage showed blaster marks, and the main compartment was so burned that the hull metal was melted in places. Well, jet fuel isn't water, so that was to be expected.

- No sign of it inside. - Said Qui-Gon, climbing out of the pile of metal.

- No sign outside, either. Unless... maybe we could try looking for a droid.

- Can you?

- Yeah, just a second..." Kenobi reached into his hole, took out his comlink, and began the procedure. After a minute he broke away from his device and reported to Qui-Gon:

- No answer. Why don't we look in the spaceport building?

- Not a bad idea. - The teacher agreed, and the two Jedi made their way to the dilapidated building.

The building was as desolate inside as it was outside. But there was plenty of room to hide, so the Jedi searched the building. Obi-Wan picked up the comlink again and found an answer from the ship's captain.

- Master, they're in the main hall.

- How do you know?

- The captain's comlink is answering. - And both Jedi hurriedly walked, even jogged, to the main hall of the spaceport. The view of the hall was as unattractive as the rest of the building--broken storefronts, things scattered on the floor, small stones, and other details of the building.

But there were people there-the team they were looking for.

- Jedi? - The captain was surprised to see them. He was understandable-it had only been a short time, and the Qui-Gon were already in the spaceport. Drawing the right conclusions, the captain asked: - Do you have transport?

- I do, I do, take your time. So, is everyone in place? - Ben Kenobi immediately began organizing himself. Qui-Gon, who had already noticed Anakin's absence, interrupted the mumbling captain:

- "Where is Anakin? Was he with you?

- Uh... Master Jedi, he's... lost. We ran out of the ship and into the spaceport, but he was gone... he must have run off somewhere...

- Don't be absurd; it's a marshland, all around here. - Kenobi cut in.

- Well...

- I see. Obi-Wan, we'd better take another look at the ship. - Said Qui-Gon.

- What about us?

- You follow us. And you'd better, too, if the boy is found.

* Tatooine, Anakin *

The air, the hot, dry, dusty air. How quickly I grew accustomed to it, and how quickly I grew weary of it... It's as if I hadn't been to Tatooine, and already I remember Mos Eisley like a bad dream, as if I hadn't spent ten years of my life here...

The air is only the first thing I got from my old, "past" life. More accurately, the life between past and present.

Unlike the Nubian, Julian's trough landed right in the spaceport, in the hangar parking lot.

Smelling the scent of Tatooine made me cringe, which didn't escape Julian, and he gave a skeptical chuckle.

I'm back - I'm back, now I have to think how to fly away from here again, preferably faster and farther away - I'm allergic to this planet.

- Come on, why are you standing? - I said and made an example of Julian, going downstairs. There were droids and some human technicians working in the hangar. They took Julian's parking fee and left, while I led the ship's captain around Mos Eisley.

- Hey, kid, I see you know your way around here," he said as he caught up with me.

- I got some. Do you have to re-register the ship?

- Yeah, in my name. Or just change the plates. - he nodded, walking beside me. The streets of Tatooine were like some ancient Persian state - cramped, clay houses, only the advertising signs spoiled everything, but this is Tatooine, there's nothing normal here.

- Then I know a Toydarian. He won't do it himself, of course, but he knows everyone and everything. Let's go. - I turned at the crossroads and went straight to Watto's shop. I have no one else to turn to - Jabba knows me as Anakin Skywalker, the winner of the Rebellion and the classic, and as the thief whose nickname has not yet been removed from the streets.

Of course, it would be rational to keep a low profile - what if Jabba could connect me to the mysterious thief? After all, the thefts had miraculously stopped after I'd flown out of here.

Julian followed me, looking around at the local inhabitants. I noticed a discreet sign of a painfully familiar second-hand store ahead of me, and, sighing heavily, I went there.

It's so hot on Tatooine! It was unbelievable that I was used to this heat-it seemed impossible to get used to it now. The Tattoo had just appeared in the sky in twos, so it was siesta time, but none of the passersby cared - they just wrapped themselves more tightly in cloth to escape the radiation. Julian was good - he was breathing heavily and sweating all over, flushed, so that it was obvious to the naked eye that he needed shade and coolness. He could think of something to do with the shade, but he could not find coolness - air-conditioners were not an honor here, it was too easy to catch a cold.

- Now, here we are. - I encouraged my companion and went inside Watto's store.

It was the same as it had been a year or five years ago, piles of junk, old droids against the walls, the counter, and the shopkeeper himself, snoozing behind the counter.

After looking around the whole store with premature nostalgia, I turned to Julian:

- Wait a while.

- Okay, kid. I hope you know what you're doing. - With doubt in his voice said the captain of the ship. A bit of Jack the Sparrow... but no, no charisma.

I addressed Watto in Toydarian, which, thank goodness, I still remember:

- Watto! You have a visitor.

- Anakin, who is it? - Watteau grumbled, but opened his eyes. - Anakin? - He asked again.

- No, Jabba himself. - I quipped.

- Anakin! - Watto seemed pleased to see me, and he took off immediately, looking me over," You look good, boy.

- Thank you, Watto. I was just passing through on Coruscant, so I bought some clothes. How's your trade going?

- What's the trade, where's the trade going? - I can't even get the droids to fix the old stuff right. I long for the time when I used to sell the droids you used to fix. - The Toydarian shook his head.

- Wouldn't you buy your own slaves with the right skills? Or was your greed getting the better of you? - I asked.

- Don't give me that look of reproach. - He shook his head disapprovingly. Julian interjected, rudely enough:

- "Anakin, what are you talking about?

- Oh, just some hard fate.

- Who's that with you? - Watto turned his attention to Julian.

- That's pilot Julian. He saved my life, so I owe him one.

- You owe him? Don't you have any money? - Watto was surprised. That makes sense, considering that I recently won a substantial sum in the race.

- I have money. But that's different. You see, Watto, Julian used to work for the Trade Federation... and now we've got to get the ship over to him and find work for an aspiring "free trader.

- You mean smuggler," the merchant nodded, "Well, I think I can help your friend. Not for free, of course...

- Five thousand," I said, getting ready to bargain. But, as it turned out, for nothing. Watto was already indignant, but he took pity:

- "Just for your sake, Skywalker. Show me where this ship of yours is. - Watto flew out from behind the counter and grabbed a "closed" sign.