The Cat in the Bag

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***

 From the shop we headed back to the spaceport, to the technical rooms. Watto took out a hat like an African cork helmet from somewhere and put it on, so that his head would not get hot, and flew out, buzzing his fast wings.

 While flying and walking, I finally began to think, what should I do in this situation? Let's break it down point by point. Firstly - I was in a war zone because of the complete disorganisation of the military operation. Secondly, the ship has been blown up, but the crew must survive, they got ahead, so they were further ahead, and they will be stronger than me. Thirdly, I was most likely abandoned by the crew, not afraid to pick me up. Or they forgot I was with them in the commotion. And finally, and most importantly, I'll probably be presumed dead or missing. Wondering "what's in it for me?". Obviously, what I will have is that now I can avoid becoming a Jedi, or at least live for a while without the involvement of some order that seeks to control my every move. Well, that's accepted - I'll keep my distance for now and hold off on the wonderful news that I'm alive, because some of their order's rules are making me a little uneasy.... although there is actually a rare chance to turn from a former slave into a Jedi, which is a separate caste where they don't ask for origin.

 The spaceport greeted Watto with the sounds of working droids scurrying around a small rarity ship, fixing it up. The technical rooms resembled a hangar, only they were located just below the surface, to save on air conditioning, which in a technical room must be maintained at all times - some parts, being unprotected by the shield-hull, are very sensitive to heat and sunlight. Especially when it comes to the hyperdrive - the thermal expansion of its plates, even by a few micrometres, can significantly mow the exit point, or take the ship into some unknown distances, and it is good if such unlucky pilots managed not to fly into some star or meteorite. On hyperspace paths used by smugglers, the proximity of meteorites, planets, and moons was commonplace.

 - Anakin, wait here with your friend. - Watto said, turning around a bit and flew on alone. Julian stopped as well and looked around the hangar. It looked like a car repair shop, except that it was big and had small ships in it.

 - Julian, what kind of ship do you have? - I asked, watching the droids try to unscrew something from the ship. Judging by the condition of the hull, it had been hit with lasers, and the burned sections were hard to disassemble, fused together.

 - Barloz from the first series. Honestly, not a bad ship nowadays, but only after all the subsequent modifications. Mine has no cargo lift and only one escape pod. But there is a sick bay and not too cosy cabins. - The pilot complained.

 - As you can see, your sickbay came in handy. - I remembered the place with gratitude.

 - Well, they were first produced as long-range transports and long-haulers, but then the demand for them began to fall in favour of more cargo-carrying ones, so the Korelians got rid of all the unnecessary stuff, crammed a second-class hyperdrive into it, and expanded the cargo cabins, removing everything unnecessary for the flight. They were bought mostly for local supply lines and small to medium cargo transports, not for long haul flights.

 - So your cor-- is an obsolete model?

 - You could say that. I guess now I'll need everything the Korelians originally put in it. Except.

 - What?" I asked, seeing Julian's saddened expression.

 - I don't have a navigation computer. Yeah, you don't have a navigational computer at all, and using droids... no offence, but your droid would take a week to calculate a route like the free traders usually use.

 - So you need a computer too... - I stretched out. I had a plan in my head for the rest of my life. Well, trough, soon you will not be inferior to even a thousand-year-old falcon. Although... if you remember what Han said about the speed of his ship. no, a class zero-five hyperdrive would be too hard to get. And where did OWLs hide it in there? Or did he remove one of the cargo bays? Yes, that captain of the Millennium Falcon is a truly inscrutable man. Though I think he got the ship like this from Colerisian. Anakin's knowledge of hyperspace was a great asset to him, and he made a note to himself to figure out what was wrong with hyperspace and get a fast ship so he wouldn't have to spend his life waiting in a cabin while the ship travelled to its destination. Anakin's knowledge of hyperdrives was limited to a rough outline and an understanding that "fifth class is rubbish and first class is cool". Anakin had learned some of the most common models, even managed to dismantle one before I arrived, which was broken and sold to Watto for scrap. The hyperdrive did use very specific metals that were rarely found in everyday life, like tungsten or magnesium alloys. They were called differently locally, of course, but I recognised them by their appearance. The other metals were unknown to me, and perhaps to Earth science as well. I had already done enough digging in the information on local chemistry to assert that if Mendeleev had drawn his table on all local materials, it would have turned out to be a canvas of a hundred by a hundred metres filled with small ubory handwriting.

 - Don't worry about it, I'll make do with what I have for now. - Julian waved his hand.

 Droids coped with the melted section of the hull and climbed inside the ship, and I, standing far away, thought about how and where my saviour would live now.

 - Julian, are you going to live on the ship?

 - All smugglers and not only smugglers live on their ships. But let me tell you about it. - He made himself comfortable against the wall and began to tell me:

 - Before the establishment of the Republic, spaceships were only a means of transport and military - back then, galactic space was seen more as an obstacle that ships helped to overcome, but with the development of hypertransition technology and the ships themselves, there were gradually more and more traders, military, and just people who literally - live on ships. Some have homes, some, like me, don't, so the ship is a home, a means of transport, and a means of earning a living. Not that I or any of the other pilots thought that living on a ship was better than living on some cosy planet, but given the grandeur of the galaxy, it was foolish to lock ourselves away and settle in one place. In my years I have already travelled all known and unknown trade routes, and even outside of them I had time to fly, visited hundreds of planets.... And all this without leaving home. - Julian sighed, coughing. I took advantage of the pause to ask a question:

 - So you live on a ship. I see. - I nodded, remembering that Han OWLs lived on his Falcon, and that my alter ego, Darth Vader, had a big stellar destroyer for himself, so he didn't have to confine himself to one planet. It's not a bad solution - with hyperdrives and repulsors, you can easily make a ship of any size - these two technologies practically remove the limitation on size and mass. So why not make a home on such a ship? And if anything - you can always be in the centre of events, instead of sitting on your planet. A sedentary life is not for me - if I wanted to live on a planet, I'd run away to Naboo with my mother and hide from Qui-Gon. But no, my desire to make a difference doesn't let me stay away. Although... I'd just have to find a place for myself first. A career as a smuggler is within my grasp, especially if I use my powers. I don't want to be a front-runner, but I don't want to be a complete loser.

 - So, basically, you get it, right?

 - Yes, Julian, I do. Will you take me in? - I asked the big question.

 - Um. sorry, but why would I want you, eh? - Julian looked like a kind man, but he wasn't an idiot - he didn't see the point in bringing a child on a ship.

 - I can do repairs for a start, I have experience.

 - Experience? At your age? Don't be ridiculous, boy. I'd rather a droid have experience than you.

 - Hey! I'm not that inept, talk to Watto, he knows what I can do! - resentment took over. The captain raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture and sighed heavily:

 - Eh... to hell with you, there's no one else to hire anyway. And I'd like to find a job for myself, not to hire someone else ...

 - Don't worry, Captain, you'll find one. So you agree? - I specified.

 - Yes, let him, you won't take up much space. And then we'll see, maybe you'll be good for something.

 - Thank you. Then, let's do it this way - I'll take the navicomputer, hyperdrive, weapons, and a lot of other little things.... And maintenance, of course, and you owe me a share in the joint venture. Well, and the opportunity to turn down some orders, because, you know, I don't want to carry spice.

 - It's hard to argue with that. All right, then. - After thinking for a while, the Captain nodded and agreed to the terms. I chose the terms not for nothing - to get involved with drugs - the last thing, with the rest of the charms of democracy in the form of slavery, piracy, corruption and others - too. I'm not so desperate for money that I'd be unscrupulous and accept a dodgy job.

 - Then it's a deal. The work will take some time, but in the meantime. no, you'd better not go round Mos Eisley unarmed. It's a rough place, too. They'll knock you down for looking at you sideways.

 - Come on," Julian said, waving his hand, "I've been here for years, and I've been in worse places than this....

 - I think you're being a little careless. I haven't even seen a gun," I shook my head, remembering how easy it was to run into a bunch of thugs in Mos Eisley. "Let's go out tonight and see what's for sale. Like it or not, you don't want to be here without a blaster handy.

 - All right, all right, suit yourself. - The captain sighed heavily, admitting defeat.

 Just then, Watto came out from behind the ship, followed by an older twi'lek who looked at us and walked towards Julian.

The twi'lek looked at the captain and turned to him:

- You, as I understand it, need to legalise the ship?

- Yes, er...

- Just call me Ai.

- Okay..." Julian was confused. Obviously, no one whose job is connected with illegal operations will say his real name just like that.

- It will cost you a fifth of the cost of the ship. - The Twi'lek nodded, and his lekku outgrowths rippled amusedly.

- So be it. - Julian bit his lower lip and cast a quick glance at me. I don't know what he thought I was; I guess I was some aristocrat's child..... No, more like the child of some criminal mastermind, because such connections on Tatooine speak for themselves. Julian nodded, to which he sighed in relief and looked into the twi'lek's eyes.

- It'll take a few hours," Ai said, looking at me intently, "Wait, I've seen you somewhere before..." the twi'lek frowned, but didn't pursue the subject, "never mind.

Julian stepped aside with him and they talked a little more, discussing the details, after which the twi'lek left proudly, and the captain came back to me, obviously preoccupied with something.

- What is it?

- No, nothing. Come on, let's go look at the weapons, we're going to need them.

- I saw a phaser on your ship...

- It's not a weapon. Well... it only works in stun mode, so I doubt we'll need it here.

- Okay. - I remember this thing, too. It looks like a real blaster, but it turns out to be a scarecrow...

Watto caught up with us from behind and demanded I pay for my services. I just promised him to come back and pay later, to which Watto grumbled, but agreed.

The comparison to a car repair shop was apt - after a short loop between the large parts of the ships and the droids fussing with them, we found a small door in the wall and went out into the sun... or rather, not the sun, because two stars were frying the planet at once. But the people of Mos-aisley didn't seem to notice the murderous temperature and wrapped themselves tightly in their cloths. Large draught animals, driven by java riders, stomped heavily across the sand. I was used to the sight, but Julian, standing next to me, kept his eyes on the Jawas, and I had to shush him:

- Don't stare at the jawas, they don't like it.

Julian didn't say anything, but looked away.

- Ai said the procedure would take a few hours. Where should we stay?

- First, let's go see what we can buy in the way of weapons. - I remembered where there was a gun shop around here. It wasn't far away, so I dragged Julian along with me, skirting the local people.

The place reminded me of the film Men in Black - there were so many different weapons, and they were all radically different from each other. The salesman, an obese man of half a hundred years of age, looked at me and the captain with a bored look, and then returned to his datapad, looking behind us with his eyes.

- Wow! - Julian couldn't contain his admiration, looking at the assortment of weapons. And there was almost everything, from small-sized Q-series pistols to heavy high-speed blasters from the company "Bals-tek" the latter were developed in the olden days, but judging by the new details, modified for the use of modern energy cells. Admittedly, I looked at these man's toys, but I couldn't touch them - the weapons were separated from the visitors by a grid and a force field, so I couldn't touch them. It took at least a dozen minutes to look at all this goodness - some samples vaguely reminded me of earthly samples of firearms. The salesman got distracted and enlightened me about the rifle I was looking at:

- It's an A-280 rifle, reliable, accurate, and has a removable gas cartridge. It's in service with the Justice Corps. But it's too heavy for you, kid. You can't lift it.

After I swallowed the "kid," I asked him to tell me about the rest of the goodies:

- If you don't mind, tell me what's going on here... the captain and I need weapons.

- Eh, okay," the salesman stood up and walked around the counter and picked up a small rifle that looked like a submachine gun:

- This is the DH-17, the favourite weapon of the local 'working men', and many consider it to be the best creation of the blas-tech. Good at penetrating almost any armour. The most common pistol in the galaxy, comfortable, you can hold it with the second hand while firing... - the seller showed how to hold the pistol with the second hand on the barrel guard. - And, by the way, it's very inexpensive. At first it cost one and a half thousand, but after they were put into large-scale production, the cost dropped to one thousand for a new one and three hundred credits for a used one. Now it's five hundred for a new one. Considering it's a powerful and common gun, it's a modest price.

- No, I can't afford one of those. - I shook my head. With one hand this stupid thing, if I can lift and hold, thanks to training, I certainly can not shoot long enough.

- Well, whatever. - The salesman smiled and, with a glance at Julian, picked up another large pistol

- The SE-14 itself. Simple and reliable...

I looked at this creation of dusky galactic genius and remembered where I might have seen it. I remembered that it was the gun that had been used to threaten Luke Skywalker when he left Tatooine. No, I don't want that kind of gun, especially since my son was almost shot with it. Apparently, the salesman realised from the look on my face that he couldn't go on, so he put the gun aside. Julian has already come closer to me, and the seller, apparently, is a military enthusiast - how happy he is telling me about his toys....

- Then there's this. Q-two is the most common small-sized blaster. Small, reliable, ideal for concealed carry and close combat. Fires fairly accurately, even at close range. - The salesman pulled out a blaster... phallic in shape, horizontally placed on a wooden-looking hilt.

- How much is it worth? - I think I saw this blaster in a film, in Padmé's hands. About the size of a packet of cigarettes, just right for my left hand.

- Three hundred credits. New and fifteen credits for the power cell.

- Give me two. - I smiled at the familiar phrase and continued, -and cells... thirty pieces.

Julian wanted to say something, but the salesman had already left with a gun in his hand.

- What?

- Anakin, what's this gun for?

- At least we don't have to carry it around like that heavy blaster, it doesn't weigh much, we can carry it around.

Julian was silent for a moment, but he agreed with my conclusions. You can't carry a heavy blaster everywhere, but you can carry a baby like this.

The salesman came back with two pistols and a whole bunch of boxes of ammunition cells.

- Wait, we're not done yet. - I found a gun on display that reminded me of the style of the film Men in Black - it was compact and chrome-plated. Even the gun looked light.

- Oh, that's a Vestar thirty-four. A handy little weapon. But the ammunition is small.

- That's no problem. Two of these, too. - I said, and turned my attention to the samples hanging on the wall.

The salesman, genuinely pleased, went back into the back room, returning half a minute later with a couple of boxes of blasters on the counter.

- And then one DH-17. And five Energy Cells to go with it. - The salesman turned silently and went back into the back room, and I turned to Julian:

- Safety first, Captain. Unless, of course, you want to die your own death.

- Don't scare me like that. And why do you have so many weapons?

- To have, Captain. You can keep the Diash. Do you know how to use it?

- Well. not so much.

- You can practice later. - Just then, the salesman came out of the back room. He was having a good day, as could be judged by his satisfied face and his hands, which had already started calculating the cost of everything he had bought on the calculator.

- Three thousand three hundred and ten credits. - He smiled contentedly and looked at Julian. I took my credit card out of my pocket and transferred the required amount while Julian stuffed the pistols into the duffel bag he'd been offered.

- This...and holsters for them?

- Extra charge.

The total of the trip to the spaceport - things were solved, our pockets were lighter, and on my belt, in addition to the lightsaber, I had a blaster "vestar", and Julian had a "diash-seventeen", which made the local freaks go around us more carefully. The issue of personal safety is extremely important to me, and when we're done setting up the smuggler's secret compartments, it's worth getting a couple more heavy blasters. For the left hand, the right hand traditionally holds a light saber.

* The Jedi Council, one week after the incident on Neimodia.

It was time to take stock of what had happened. All present realised that there was little consolation in the fact that Gunray had not been taken alive and had escaped justice. Not everyone thought it was evil, though - Master Yoda had been saying for two days that such a thing could be good for the Republic, and open the eyes of some senators who felt it was their duty to collect taxes. Suddenly the news about the failure of the operation became the news of the day - there were active discussions in the holonet, the meaning of which was reduced only to the fact that the Republic is sliding lower and lower, and after what happened is not even able to defend itself, not that any of their worlds. The Senators were attacked because the inability to destroy even a handful of converted ships hurt the ego of citizens of all races. Everyone who counted themselves among the Republic was displeased in one way or another.

Valorum had been sleeping in his office for three days now, and at meetings and other gatherings he had been as busy as a frying pan. But so far he was holding on, because everything was going well for him, if you look at the situation as a whole. Forgetting about the Jedi for a while, the Chancellor gave all his working and non-working time to the issue of creating a new trade body. The components of the trade federation were in chaos, with no one in control of their assets, which was taken advantage of by the pilots who left the federation in a hurry - one team even wanted to hijack a Lurehulk, but they were quickly talked out of it by a dreadnought attached to the Justice Corps. But smaller ships were almost impossible to control, so the captains of the transports scooped them up like hotcakes when they smelled freedom.

In all this chaos, the Justice Corps tried to show its teeth, but often got the same teeth - pathetic Federation ships armed with droids successfully opposed the equally pathetic Justice Corps. Individuals didn't count, but the corps as a whole proved itself to be completely ineffective.

Despite the criticism that was pouring out of the horn, Valorum did not forget what he was trying to achieve and gradually brought the senators to the right idea. It's not a quick job, but in the meantime, there's plenty to do without the hiding criminal Nute Gunray.

- Qui-Gon, come in. - Said Windu, covering his eyes. The headache subsided a little and the Jedi Master, glancing at the other masters in their chairs, turned his attention to the man who had entered.

- Report what you have. - Yoda screeched from his seat. The Magister, like Windu, was already aware of all the details, but it was necessary to voice them to the council before a decision could be made.

- We have accomplished the mission, Magister. - Qui-Gon Jinn bowed briefly and waited for a nod from Yoda before continuing, "I have escorted the knight and his padawan to Tidus.

Yoda had given the Jedi a task that he was reluctant to fulfil - to report Anakin Skywalker's death. The Master rightly believed that the knight should take responsibility for his decisions and personally inform the mother of the gifted of what had happened. After his return, Qui-Gon was darker than the clouds - there were shadows under his eyes that told everyone he'd had a bad dream, and his eyes were meaningful, but without the fire that had been there before. Qui-Gon realised that he had received all the reproaches and accusations for his work - he should have reported the boy's presence on board to headquarters, but... what's done is done, and what's not done may never be done again.

- How do you assess the likelihood of Nut Gunray appearing in Theda? - Seeing that there was a tense pause, Mace Windu changed the subject. Yoda, too, was disappointed at the death of such a promising student, but he could not change what had happened.

- The probability is there, but small. Gunray is a slippery sort and won't take any chances..." replied Qui-Gon to the dark-skinned master, "though he may send assassins, he must hate the Queen of Naboo, and a Jedi is better off guarding the Queen anyway," Windu nodded. As the conversation went on, the other masters became animated, but were in no hurry to join the conversation. Yoda, after being silent for a while, said:

- Your Master.... My apprentice... Dooku. There has been a problem with him, he has disappeared from our sight. We believe he has run away for good. Keep your guard up, and while you rest, go Qui-Gon, you look like you don't please me. - Yoda squinted and looked at Qui-Gon. The shuddering knight swallowed and bowed again, leaving the council chamber. 

As the door closed behind him, Mace Windu glanced over to Yoda and asked him:

- Was it really necessary to send him on such a mission, Master? Qui-Gon looks like a dead man.

- It's important to him. He knows how to value life himself, but he must see and understand the consequences of his decisions. - The Magister grunted, made himself comfortable in his chair and turned to the rest of the council:

- What do you think of the senate that has begun? The Chancellor reminds me of a young father of mine.

The melodious voice of a Togruta sounded in response:

- Perhaps so, Master Yoda, but I don't like the whole thing. It's too... fast all of it.

- It didn't happen any other way. - Yoda remarked melancholically. The other masters supported him and the Jedi Council's favourite pastime of discussing, ranting, and discussing again began.

* Tatooine *

The work dragged on for a week. A week and almost fifty thousand credits - I insisted on installing a first class hyperdrive, and the hyperdrive slot was standard, but finding one was not an easy task. There was an active progress in terms of hyperdrives and related technologies, so the options of the second or third class on the market was not to be counted, but the first one was searched for a week. I remember that not so long ago, Uotto had given Qui-Gon a high-end te-fourteen hyperdrive. The norm for civilian ships was class five-six, with class three-second for military ships and the like, and class one an exclusive. But Tatooine is a place where smugglers live, so finding a good engine here is not a problem. In fact, it's not a problem to find anything here, if you have the money. While they were looking for a hyperdrive, I settled in the garage, working on the ship, just like Erdva. My iron friend had been silent lately, and did not bother me with idle talk, preferring to work in silence, but I pestered the hangar workers with enviable frequency.

One epic with the installation of armaments - two military turbolasers instead of the existing one low-powered. I spent the whole day haggling, installing, launching, and testing this equipment, getting dirty with grease and looking just like before - grimy and satisfied.

The navigation computer was next, but I, not knowing all the intricacies of this machine, was in no hurry to get under the hand of professionals and went out for a smoke break. Having installed the navicomp, I again got on the hangar worker, and the two of us made several cargo compartments for contraband - in the floor, between the navicomp blocks, in the medotsek, having previously thrown out some of the equipment. 

When my order arrived, there was no limit to my joy - the last thing I had to install was the hyperdrive. Gravitsapa arrived in two pieces - the main and reserve, third class. So what if we have to pay tax on a high-class hyperdrive. But now we won't be afraid of any breakdowns - we'll make it in time, and with a backup and extremely reliable, branded third-class hyperdrive, we can continue the mission, even if the capricious toy of the first class will fly to the horns of the Sith.

Julian was sitting in the cantina cafe sipping the local analogue of beer when I found him for a report that everything was done. He had taken a truly Jedi-like calmness to everything I had done to his ship and, after hearing me give a short report on the work done, nodded in agreement.

- Anything wrong?

- No, nothing's wrong. We're going to have trouble finding work, though....

- Why would that be? - I wondered, remembering how many smugglers were hanging around here. It was a lot, to put it mildly.

- Now I'm not the only one who's smart enough to run away and take a ship. If the demand for smugglers' services has dropped, it's only in simple missions, and I won't be assigned something serious, no one knows us yet.

- I see. I'm sorry, I can't help you there. Tell you what, Julian, don't show your temper yet and take any job but drugs. Don't ever get involved with drugs. You don't last long in that business.

- Smart guy. - The captain grumbled, "He's going to teach me. No, nothing!

- I don't believe it. After such a blow to the Trade Federation, there's bound to be some work on the planets where they used to work.

- Hmm. There is that. But these are just cargo flights, Anakin.

- Take what you're given and keep your nose clean, Julian. Simple cargo flights, simple cargo flights... what, you want a dangerous, high-paying job? No way, so take a cargo flight and see if we can get a bit of a rise, or if they'll let us smuggle something in.

Julian just sighed and got up from the table.

- You've got me, you big mouth. I'll go see the customer. - Julian strode across the cantina to some customer bored at a separate table. I didn't hear what they talked about, but I saw that the men shook hands and Julian sat down at his table.

I took a sip of the local brew and kept half an eye on what was going on. I left my gun in its holster, so I didn't expect any surprises.

Julian returned five minutes later and asked me without sitting down at the table:

- So you're saying the ship is ready to go?

- Exactly. If necessary, we'll leave in an hour.

- Anyway, there's work to be done. We fly to Aethon, load the goods, take them to Kali. They said they'd pay extra for speed. You okay with that? - He just asked me pro forma.

- No, I don't mind. Just that... ah, okay, give me an hour and we're out of here.

- Okay. 

I looked around for a suitable candidate, like Colerisian, a cunning son of a bitch, but without the stupidity in his head. I couldn't find one, so I paid and went to the neighbouring cantina, Julian following me.

I was finally lucky enough to find a man at a table who was clearly a smuggler - a bit of a paddle, a blaster on his hip, a cargo pilot's waistcoat, not combat armour or a technician's suit. The local regulars didn't even pay me any attention, so I made my way over to the man I'd spotted.

- Hey, kid, what do you want? - He asked me rudely, looking me over.

- You want a job?

- A job? Don't be ridiculous, get out of here.

- Five thousand. - I said, squinting.

- Five? You want me to bring you some Alderaanian toys?

- No, I'm good. Deliver a package. Legal. - I sat down roughly at the table and continued: - Five thousand, that's a lot of money for a simple flight to the nearest planet.

- Now, from this point on, please. What's the catch? - The smuggler threw off his fool's mask and turned on his business acumen.

Julian sat down at the table next to him, but he didn't join the conversation, but only listened, interested. 

- There was no catch. I'd deliver the message myself, but I don't want to be found by it, and it has to be delivered strictly from hand to hand to a certain person, so that no one in his entourage would know. Well, almost nobody.

We're not talking.

- What do you mean, deliver?

I smiled. So you said yes.

- I'll write it down. Got any paper?

- Paper? Hmm..." the smuggler turned to the bartender, "hey, Arry, do you have paper and a pencil?

The humanoid called Arry brought me paper and a local writing device in a minute. If you don't have stamp paper, you can write on toilet paper.

I thought it would be too much to leave my mother in the dark about my fate, and it would be better to write to her. But I can't do it in person, the Jedi will find it, so I'll have to do it the hard way. The easiest thing to do would be to write to Padme, who I've unexpectedly bonded with during our adventures. And then, if Mum's around, they'll sort it out.

Dear Padmé!

I'm sorry I disappeared suddenly, I accidentally got on the wrong starship this morning and flew off with the Jedi to Neimodia. I won't give you the details, but I'm alive and well now, and even feeling pretty good. I know it was rude of me to fake my death, but there's hardly anyone to worry about me but you and Mom. Well, maybe Qui-Gon, but I don't know about that. I hope you'll take Mum in Tida, she'll probably like it on Naboo.

I've been hiding from the Order for a few reasons, including the fact that I've grown disgusted with their no privacy rule lately. I hope to be able to visit you in person soon, but not yet.

I suppose I should at least tell you what happened. Valorum found out Palpatine was digging for him, the Jedi found out Palpatine was a Sith and turned against him, but I guess I overestimated what the Republic could do. If the energy and money that senators spend on personal pleasures and meetings were channelled into the military, there wouldn't be anyone who could pose a serious threat to the Republic. I hope the chancellor can learn from this incident. When I informed Qui-Gon and the Chancellor of Palpatine's dark side, I must have underestimated the Jedi's fear of the Sith, much like Valorum's fear of conspirators. Now Palpatine has disappeared to an unknown destination, the Sith assassin that attacked us on Tatooine is wandering around somewhere, and Nute Gunray has also escaped with all his money (yes, yes, I'm reading the news).

And all of the aforementioned might want your blood. Admittedly, I didn't count on that, so I apologise in advance.

But, everybody can be wrong, right? The only thing that makes me feel better is that if I hadn't done that, the bastard Palpatine would have already put his Sith arse in the High Chancellor's chair, and then the situation would have passed the point of no return. And what would have happened to the Republic in that case, you'd better not know - you'll sleep better.

I am sure I will come back to you, but not immediately and not soon. For now, I can only tell you and my mum that I'm fine, and as long as I have the power with me, I can cope with almost any trouble.

Say hello to Mum, keep her calm, listen to everything she says about me and all the words she calls me. I'm sure it's not out of spite.

I asked the pilot to take this letter to you, because I don't want to be seen in front of the Jedi, and my mother, unlike you, doesn't have that much correspondence, and the letter could be intercepted. Oh, yeah, I forgot. Enclosed with the letter is my first creation. What that means, you can ask any Jedi. I hope you will always carry it, for hundreds of generations of Jedi, the sword is a versatile weapon and a versatile tool, except that it is difficult to use while dining.

...Though you still have much to learn in the high art of hypocrisy. You can take as an example everything I've played out in front of you, the Jedi, and the Chancellor, from the moment the Queen of Naboo, dressed as a maid, graced the junk shop on Tatooine. In any case, I've done my best for you and your planet, whoever can, let him do better.

P.S:

And don't ask me how I knew the truth. Sometimes I remember the phrase of one clever but little known person - "the eyes are blind, only the heart is seeing". Sometimes all it takes to see the truth is to close the eyes that are easily deceived.

P.P.S:

I'm going to miss you a lot... and Mum, of course.

I folded the paper in half and removed my lightsaber from my belt. My companions' eyes widened at the sight of it. Julian gasped, and the smuggler I'd hired gave me a hard look.

- What are you, a Jedi?

- No, I'm not. Well... almost not. - Here.

The smuggler took the sword from my hands as if it were burning his hands. I warned you:

- There's a button on the hull. Don't press it and you'll be fine. It's easy to kill yourself with that thing.

The man nodded and, putting the sword in his pocket, asked, taking the letter:

- Who should I take it to?

- Do you know Naboo?

- Well, thanks to recent events, everyone knows what Naboo is now.

- Here, - I nodded, - fly there, the city of Tid, the royal palace. You will give the letter and the sword to the queen personally. Padme Amidala Naberiyo. Or her captain of the guard, a man named Panaka. And no one, you hear me, no one else.

The smuggler nodded and gingerly put the slip of paper in his pocket. I handed him the money chip:

- There's exactly five thousand here. There's nothing illegal in the letter, and swords aren't illegal, so if there's an inspection, you can show it to me. Just don't give it to anyone.

- Well, nobody's gonna ask me for the letter.

- And don't take contraband on the voyage, the main thing is to deliver the letter. And then you can do what you like. There should be plenty of work on Naboo for a lucky enough smuggler.

The hired man nodded, and Julian and I left the cantina, walking in silence through the heat and sand toward our hangar.

- Anakin... you have a lightsaber, and a queen too... gods, what have I gotten myself into? - Julian clutched his head theatrically, "and anyway, who are you, boy?

- Ha! You shouldn't have picked up strange boys. Now here I am - the Cat in the Bag!

Only a muffled groan came from Julian. Yeah, I guess the variety of acquaintances I've had is a bit... peculiar. There's the junk dealer on Tatooine, there's the Queen, there's the Jedi... Was I right to reveal my cards to Padme? I guess so. I'm sure she won't betray me, she doesn't give a damn about Jedi. And then there's the childish desire to show "look at me" and stuff like that. Was I starting to get attached to this girl? And hell knows, but she did not seem to me such a cynical politician, as well as a fool who believes in democracy and goodness. Just a girl, well-mannered, a little naive, which is not surprising at her age of fourteen, with a touch of kindness towards some people around her, ... in general, not as bad as I imagined before the meeting, but not as naive and vanilla as she was shown in the film. Not a fairy-tale princess, but not a baba yaga either. I'm already starting to like her, which I hinted at twice in the letter. I hope, will not jump out of marriage, while I will not be there.... Still if to love, so the queen!