Cat in the bag

From the shop we headed back to the spaceport, to the technical rooms. Watto pulled out a hat from somewhere, like an African cork helmet, and put it on to keep my head warm, and took off, buzzing with his quick wings.

As we flew and walked, I finally began to think, what should I do in this situation? Let's break it down by individual points. First - I got into a war zone because of the total disorganization of the military operation. Second - the ship was blown up, but the crew had to survive, they got ahead, so they were further ahead, and they would be stronger than me. Third, the crew most likely abandoned me, not being afraid to lift. Or they forgot in the turmoil that I was with them. And finally, and most importantly - most likely I would be considered dead or missing. Wondering "what am I going to get out of this?". Obviously, what I would have is that I would now be able to avoid the fate of becoming a Jedi, or at least - to live for a while without the involvement of some order that seeks to control my every move. Well, I accept - I'll keep my distance for now and hold off on the wonderful news that I'm alive, because some of the rules of their order make me a little uneasy... Although there is in fact a rare chance to go from a former slave to a Jedi, which is a separate caste that doesn't ask for background.

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

- Anakin, wait here with your friend. - said Watto, turning around a little and flying on his own. Julian also stopped and looked around the hangar. The room just painfully resembled a machine shop, except it was big and there were small ships in it.

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

- Barloz from the first series. Honestly, not a bad ship these days, but only after all the later modifications. Mine has no cargo elevator and only one escape pod. But there's a medical bay and not very comfortable quarters. - The pilot complained.

- As you see, your sickbay came in handy. - I remembered the place gratefully.

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

- So your feed... ...outdated model?

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

- What?" I asked, seeing Julian grow sad.

- I don't have a navigational computer. No, you don't, and using droids was... no offense, but your droid will take a week to figure out the route, which is usually used by "free traders".

- So you also need a computer... - I had already made 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 come by. Where was Solo hiding it, anyway? Or did he remove one of the cargo bays? Yes, a truly inscrutable man, this captain of the Millennium Falcon. Though he seems to have inherited the ship that way from Colrisian. I made a note to myself - in the future to figure out what's what with these hyperspaces and to have a fast ship, so that then I would not have to waste my life waiting in the cabin while the ship rushes to the destination. Anakin's knowledge of hyperdrives was limited to the approximate design and the understanding that "class five is rubbish and class one is cool". He even managed to disassemble one of the more commonly used ones before I arrived, which was broken and sold to Watto for scrap. The hyperdrive did use very specific metals that are rare to find in being, take the same tungsten or magnesium alloys. Locally, of course, they were called differently, but I recognized them by their appearance. The other metals were unknown to me, or perhaps to Earth science. I had done enough digging in the information on local chemistry to say that if Mendeleev had drawn his table on all the local materials, it would have been a hundred by a hundred meters canvas, filled with fine, ugly handwriting.

- Don't worry about it, I'll make do with the present one. - Julian waved.

The droids had managed to get through the melted section of the hull and went inside the ship, while I, standing at a distance, wondered how and where to live now for my savior.

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

- Well, yes," he was sincerely surprised by my question, "all the smugglers and not only them live on their ships. Well, let me tell you. - He made himself comfortable against the wall and began to tell the story:

- Before the creation of the Republic, spaceships were only a transport and military means - then the space of the galaxy was perceived more as a barrier that ships helped to overcome it, but with the development of hyperjunction technology and the ships themselves, there were gradually more merchants, military, and just people who literally - live on the ships. Some have homes, some, like me, do not, so the ship for us is both home and transport, and a means of making money. Not that I or any of the other pilots think it's better to live on a ship than on some cozy planet, but given all the greatness of the galaxy it's silly to lock ourselves away and settle down in one place. In my years I have traveled all known and unknown trade routes, and I have also flown outside them, visited hundreds of planets... And all this from the comfort of my own home. - Julian sighed and coughed. I took advantage of the pause to ask a question:

- So you're living on the ship. I see. - I nodded, remembering that I think Han Solo also lived on his Falcon, and that my alter ego, Darth Vader, had his eye on a big star destroyer for himself, not locking himself on one planet. It's not a bad solution - with hyperdrives and repulsors, you can make a ship of any size - those two technologies practically eliminate the size and weight restrictions. So why not make a home for yourself on such a ship? And what if - you can always be in the center of events, instead of sitting on your planet. The sedentary life is clearly not for me - if I wanted to live on a planet - I would have escaped to Naboo with my mother and escaped from Qui-Gon. But no, my urge to change things in some way keeps me on the sidelines. Although... For starters, I'd just have to find a place to stay busy. A career as a smuggler would be fine, especially if I could use my powers. I don't want to be a front-runner, of course, but I don't want to be a loser either.

- In short, you understand, don't you?

- Yes, Julian, I do. Will you take me with you? - I asked the ultimate question.

- Um... I'm sorry, but what do I need you for, huh? - Julian, though he looked like a kind man, but he was not an idiot, because he didn't see the point of dragging a child onto the ship.

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

- Experience? At your age? Don't be ridiculous, boy. A droid's more likely to have experience than you.

- Hey! I'm not that clumsy, talk to Watto, he knows what I can do! - Resentment took over after all. The captain held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture and sighed heavily:

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

- Don't worry, Captain, you will. So you agree? - I clarified.

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

- Thank you. Then I'll tell you what, I owe you a navicomputer, hyperdrive, weapons, and many other small things... And maintenance, of course, and from you - a share in the joint venture. And a chance to turn down some orders, because, you know, I don't want to ship spice.

- 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 for a reason - it was the last thing to get involved with drugs, and the rest of democracy in the form of slavery, piracy, corruption, and others. I am not so much in need of money as to be unpretentious and agree to dubious work.

- Then it's a deal. The work will take some time, but in the meantime... no, you better not walk around Mos Eisley unarmed. Or with a gun, either-it's a rough place, and you might get a beating for looking sideways.

- Come on," Julian waved his hand, "I've been on the job for years, and I've been in a lot of places... I think you're too careless.

- I think you're too careless. I haven't even seen a gun on you," I shook my head, remembering how easy it was to run into some thugs in Mos Eisley, "let's go out today 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 at that moment, Watto flew out from behind the ship, followed by a not so young Twi'lek, who looked us over and walked toward Julian.

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

- I take it you have a ship to legalize?

- Yes, uh...

- Just call me Ai.

- Well..." confused Julian. Of course, just saying your real name no one whose work involves illegal operations, will not.

- It will cost you a fifth of the cost of the ship. - The Twi'lek nodded, and his lekku sprouts quivered 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, probably some aristocratic child.... No, more like some criminal's kid, because that kind of connection on Tatooine speaks for itself. He nodded to Julian, who sighed in relief and looked into Twilight's eyes.

- It will take hours," said Ai, looking at me intently, "wait, I've seen you somewhere before..." the Twi'lek frowned, but didn't elaborate on the subject, "but never mind.

Julian stepped aside with him and they talked a little more, discussing details, and then twilek proudly went away, and the captain returned to me, obviously worried about something.

- What is it?

- No, nothing. Come on, let's go and see the guns, we'll need them.

- I saw a blaster on your ship...

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

- Okay, well... - I remembered that thing, too. It looks like a real blaster, but it's a blaster...

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

After all, the comparison to the machine shop was right-a short loop between the large parts of the ships and the droids that were fiddling with them on the stone floor, we found a small door in the wall, and through the hall we emerged into the sun... or rather, not the sun, because two stars were frying the planet at once. But the folk of Mos Eisley seemed oblivious to the temperatures, and they couldn't help but scurry about in their tightly wrapped cloths. Large draught animals, driven by their jawed riders, stomped heavily on the sand. I was used to the sight, but Julian, standing beside me, was staring at the jawbones, and I had to yell at him:

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

Julian didn't say anything back, but looked away.

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

- For starters, let's go see what we can buy in weapons. - I remembered where there was a shop with all sorts of shooting stuff. It wasn't far, so I dragged Julian along with me, cleverly avoiding the locals.

The place reminded me of the movie "Men in Black" - there were so many different kinds of guns, and they were all fundamentally different from each other. The salesman, a stout man of half a hundred years of age, looked at me and the captain with a bored look, and then returned to his datapad, keeping an eye on us, however, from the corner of his eye.

- Wow! - Julian couldn't help but marvel as he looked at the assortment of weapons. And there was practically everything, from small Q-series pistols to heavy rapid-fire blasters from the Bals-Tech company, the latter were developed back in the olden days, but judging by the new details, modified to use modern energy cells. Admittedly, I also looked at these manly toys, but I could not touch them - the weapons are separated from the visitors by bars and a force field, so you can't touch them. It took at least a dozen minutes to look at all this stuff - some of the samples vaguely reminded me of Earth's firearms. The salesman distracted me and enlightened me about the rifle I was looking at:

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

Having swallowed the "skunk," I asked him to tell me about the rest of the trinkets:

- If you don't mind telling me what's what... the captain and I need weapons.

- Eh, all right," 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 pistol, a favorite weapon of the local 'laborers,' though many consider it to be the best creation of the blas-tek. It's good at penetrating almost any armor. The most common pistol in the galaxy, handy, can be held with the other hand while firing... - the seller showed how the gun can be held by placing the other hand on the barrel cover. - And, by the way, quite inexpensive. At first it cost fifteen hundred and fifty, but after they were put into large production, the price dropped to a thousand for a new one and three hundred credits for a used one. Now it's five hundred for new. Considering it's a powerful and common gun, the price is modest.

- No, that wouldn't work for me. - I shook my head. If I could lift and hold this stupid thing with one hand, thanks to my training, I certainly couldn't shoot it long enough.

- Well, suit yourself. - The salesman smiled and, glancing at Julian, picked up another large pistol

- The SE-14 in its own right. Simple and reliable...

I looked at this creation of the dusky galactic genius and remembered where I might have seen it. I remembered that it was the gun that Luke Skywalker had been threatened with by the freaky thugs during his departure from Tatooine. No, I don't want that kind of gun, especially since it almost got my son shot. Apparently, the salesman knew from the look on my face that he couldn't go on, and put the gun aside. Julian had already come closer to me, and the seller, apparently a lover of war - look how happy he is, telling me about his toys...

- Then there's this as an option. Q-two is the most common small blaster. Small, rugged, ideal for concealed carry and close-quarters combat. It's accurate enough to shoot even at point-blank range. - The salesman pulled out a blaster... phallic shaped, horizontally placed on a handle that looked wooden.

- How much is it? - I think I saw this wunderwaffle in the movie, in Padme's hands. The size of a pack of cigarettes is fine by me, just right for my left hand.

- Three hundred credits. It's new, and fifteen credits for the energy cell.

- Give me two. - I smiled at the familiar phrase and continued," And the cells... thirty of them.

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

- What?

- Anakin, why do we need this gun?

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

Julian was quiet for a while, but agreed with my conclusions. You can't carry a heavy blaster everywhere, but you can carry a baby like that.

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

- Wait a minute, we're not done yet. - I found a gun in the display case that reminded me vividly of the style of the movie "Men in Black"-it was compact and chrome-plated. Even the gun looked lightweight.

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

- That's okay. There's two of these too. - I said, and turned my attention to the samples hanging on the wall.

The salesman, genuinely happy, went back into the back room, and came back after half a minute, and brought a couple of boxes of blasters to the counter.

- And then one DH-17. And five Energy Cells to go with them. - The salesman silently turned around 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 need so many guns?

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

- Well... not really.

- You'll practice later. - Just then the salesman came out of the back room. He was clearly having a good day, as could be seen by his satisfied face, and his hands, which had already begun to calculate on a calculator the cost of everything he had bought.

- Three thousand three hundred and ten credits. - He smiled quite a bit and looked at Julian. I took my credit card out of my pocket and transferred the amount while Julian stuffed the pistols into the duffel bag he was offered.

- Those... and the holsters for them?

- For a fee.

The result of the trip to the spaceport - things were solved, our pockets became lighter, and on my belt in addition to the lightsaber blaster "Westar", and Julian - "diash seventeen", which made us more careful to bypass any local freaks. The issue of personal safety is extremely important to me, and when we're done with installing the smuggler's hidden compartments, it's worth getting a couple more heavy blasters. For the left hand, in the right hand is traditionally a lightsaber.

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

It was time to take stock of what had happened. All present were aware that there was little consolation - Gunray had not been taken alive, and he had escaped justice. However, not everyone considered it evil - 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 their duty to collect taxes. Suddenly the news of the operation's failure was the news of the day - there was a lot of discussion on the holonet, the point of which was that the Republic was sinking lower and lower, and after what had happened was not even able to defend itself, let alone any of their worlds. The senators were attacked because their inability to destroy even a handful of converted ships hurt the self-esteem of citizens of all races. Everyone who counted themselves among the Republic was unhappy in one way or another.

Valorum had been sleeping in his study for three days now, and he'd been up and down like a frying pan at meetings and other gatherings. But he held on for the time being, for everything was going well for him when you look at the whole situation. Forgetting the Jedi for a while, the chancellor gave all his working and non-working time to the question of creating a new trade body. The Trade Federation was in chaos and had no control over its assets, which was used by the pilots who left the Federation in a hurry-one team even wanted to steal a lurehalk, but they were quickly dissuaded from doing so by a dreadnought assigned to the Justice Corps. Smaller ships were almost impossible to control, so the transport captains, smelling freedom, tore them apart like hotcakes.

In all this chaos, the Justice Corps tried to show its teeth, but they often got it - the pathetic, droid-armed Federation ships successfully resisted the equally pathetic Justice Corps. Individuals don't count, but the corps as a whole has proven itself to be completely incompetent.

Despite the criticism pouring out of the horn of plenty, Valorum did not forget what he was aiming for and gradually led the senators to the right idea. It is a slow business, and in the meantime there is something to do without the hiding criminal Nut Ganrei.

- Qui-Gon, come in. - Said Windu, closing his eyes. The headache had subsided somewhat, and the Jedi master, looking sideways at the other masters sitting in their chairs, turned his attention to the man who had entered.

- Tell me what you have. - Yoda squeaked from his seat. Master, as well as Windu was already aware of all the details, but it was necessary to voice them to the council before making a decision.

- We have accomplished the mission, Master. - Qui-Gon Jinn bowed briefly, and waiting for a nod from Yoda, continued," I escorted the knight and his padawan to the Teed.

Yoda had given the Jedi a task that he did not want to perform - to report the death of Anakin Skywalker. The master rightly believed that the knight should be responsible for his decisions and personally inform the gifted man's mother of what had happened. After his return, Qui-Gon was darker than a cloud - shadows lingered under his eyes, informing everyone of his poor sleep, and his gaze, though meaningful, was somehow without the fire that could have been found there earlier. Qui-Gon understood that he had received all the recriminations and accusations for the cause - he should have reported the boy on board to headquarters, but... what is done is done, and what is not done may never be done again.

- What do you make of the likelihood of Noot Gunray's appearance in the Teed? - Mace Windu, seeing the tense pause, changed the subject. Yoda, too, was disappointed by the death of such a promising apprentice, but he couldn't change what had happened.

- The likelihood is there, but small. Gunray is a slippery type and won't take any chances..." replied the dark-skinned master Qui-Gon, "Though he may send assassins, he must hate the Queen of Naboo, and a Jedi would still be better off guarding the Queen," nodded Windu. While the conversation was going on, the other masters perked up, but were in no hurry to join in the conversation. Yoda, after a little silence, said:

- Your Teacher.... My pupil... Dooku. There was a problem with him, he disappeared from our sight. We assume that he has run away for good. Don't let your guard down, but get some rest and 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 looked 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 is important to him. He knows how to value life itself, but the consequences of his decisions must be seen and understood. - The master grunted, made himself comfortable in his chair, and turned to the rest of the council:

- What do you think of what has begun in the senate? The chancellor reminds me of his young father.

The melodious voice of a Togruta sounded in response:

- Perhaps so, Master Yoda, but I don't like all this. It's too... fast.

- It didn't happen any other way. - Yoda remarked melancholy. The other masters cheered him on, and the Jedi Council's favorite pastime of discussing, ranting, and discussing began.

*Tatooine

The work dragged on for a week. A week and almost fifty thousand credits - I insisted on installing a first class hyperdrive engine, which was standard, but finding one proved to be a challenge. There was a lot of progress on hyperdrives and related technologies, so there were a lot of second- and third-class options on the market, but it took a week to find the first one. I remember that not long ago, Watto gave Kwai-Gon a the fourteen hyperdrive, a very high class. The norm at the moment is considered as much as the fifth or sixth class for civilian ships, the third or second class is found in the military, and so on, while the first, one might say, is exclusive. But Tatooine is the place where the smugglers live, and this means that to find a good engine here is not a problem. In general, to find anything here is not a problem, if it were money. While we were looking for a hyperdrive, I settled in the garage, working on the ship, as did Erdva. My iron friend had been quiet lately, not bothering me with irrelevant talk, preferring to work in silence, but I pestered the hangar workers with enviable frequency.

The whole day I haggled over the armament, two military turbolasers instead of the one I already had. I spent the whole day haggling, installing, starting up, checking this machinery, getting grease all over my body and looking quite like before - grimy and happy.

Next in turn was the navigation computer, but not knowing the intricacies of this machine, I was in no hurry to get under the hand of professionals and went out for a smoke break. After installing the navicomputer, I again pressed the hangar worker and the two of us made a few cargo compartments for contraband - in the floor, between the units of the navicomputer, in the sick bay, having previously thrown out some equipment.

When my order arrived, I was overjoyed - the last thing I had to install was the hyperdrive. Two gravitsapas arrived-the main one and a third-class backup. So what if I had to pay tax on a high-class hyperdrive. But now we're not afraid of any failure - we'll make it in time, and with the reserve and extremely reliable, proprietary third-class hyperdrive we can continue the mission, even if the capricious toy first class flew to the horns of the Sith.

Julian was sitting in the cantina cafe sipping the local equivalent of a beer when I found him for the report that everything was done. He took a truly Jedi-like calm to everything I'd done to his ship and, after hearing me give a brief report on the job done, nodded in agreement.

- Is something wrong?

- No, nothing is wrong. Though finding work will be a problem for us...

- Why should that be? - I wondered, when I remembered how many smugglers hang around here. It turned out, to put it mildly, a lot.

- Now I'm not the only one who's clever enough to have run away and taken a ship. If the demand for the services of smugglers has fallen, it is only in simple missions, and something serious I will not be assigned, 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 except drugs. Don't get involved with drugs at all. They don't last long in that business.

- You're a 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 for them on the planets where they used to work.

- Hmm... there is that. But these are simple cargo flights, Anakin.

- Take what they give you and don't turn your nose up at it, Julian. Easy flights, easy flights... did you want a dangerous, high-paying job too? Hell no, so take a cargo voyage, and then maybe we'll go up a little, or we'll get something smuggled in.

Julian just sighed and got up from the table.

- You got me, you tongue-tied son of a bitch. I'm going to see the customer. - Julian walked through the cantina to some customer bored at a separate table. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but I saw that the men shook hands and Julian sat down at his table.

I took a sip of the local drink and continued to watch with half an eye what was going on. I had thoughtfully left my gun in its holster, so that no surprises could be expected.

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

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

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

- Anyway, there's work to do. We fly to Aethon, load the goods, take them to Cali. Promised to pay extra for speed. Do you mind? - He asked just to be on the safe side.

- No, I don't mind. It's just that... ah, okay, give me an hour and we'll fly out.

- Okay.

I, having received consent, searched my eyes for a suitable candidate, like the same Colrisian - a sly son of a bitch, but without any stupidity in his head. I couldn't find one, so I paid and went to the next cantina, and Julian followed me.

There I was, at last, in luck - at the table there was a man of obviously smuggler's appearance - a bit of weight, a blaster on his hip, a vest of a trucker pilot, not combat armor or a technician's suit. The regulars here didn't even notice me, so I made my way over to the man I'd spotted.

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

- 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 Alderaan toys?

- No, I'm good. Deliver the package. A legal package. - I sat down roughly at the table and continued: - Five thousand, that's very, very much for a simple flight to the nearest planet.

- So, from this point, more details, please. And what's the catch? - The smuggler took off his silly mask and put on his business acumen.

Julian also sat down near the table, but did not interfere in the conversation, but only listened, wondering.

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

No talking.

- Deliver what?

I smiled. So I agreed.

- 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, named Arry, brought me paper and a local writing utensil in a minute. In the absence of stamp paper, you could write on toilet paper.

I had already thought that leaving my mother in the dark about my fate would be too much, and it would be better to write her a message. But I can't tell her in person-the Jedi will find it, so I'll have to do something about it. The easiest thing would be to write to Padmé, with whom I've become unexpectedly close during our adventures. And then, if Mom is around, they'll figure it out for themselves.

Dear Padmé.

I'm sorry I disappeared all of a sudden, I accidentally got on the wrong starship this morning, and I flew off with the Jedi to Neimodia. I won't go into detail, but I'm alive and well now, and I'm even feeling pretty good. I know it was rude of me to fake my own death, but besides you and Mom, I don't think anyone would care about me. Well, maybe Qui-Gon, but not necessarily. I hope you'll put your mother up in Tida, she'll probably love it on Naboo.

For some reason I'm hiding from the Order, including the fact that I've recently become uncomfortable with their no-privacy rule. 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 went ballistic against him, but I guess I overestimated the Republic's capabilities. If the energy and money that senators spend on personal pleasures and meetings were channeled into the military, there wouldn't be someone who could pose a serious threat to the republic. I hope the chancellor can learn a lesson 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, as I did Valorum's fear of the conspirators. Now Palpatine has disappeared to an unknown destination, the Sith assassin who attacked us on Tatooine is wandering somewhere, and Nute Gunray has also escaped with all his money (yes, yes, I read the news).

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

But, everybody can be wrong, right? It's a comfort to think that if I hadn't done that, the scoundrel Palpatine would have already put his Sith ass in the chair of the supreme chancellor, and then the situation would have passed the "point of no return". And what would have happened to the Republic in that case, you don't want to know - you'll sleep better.

I'm sure I'll get back to you, but not right away, and not soon. For now I can only tell you and my mother that I'm all right, and as long as I have my power, I can cope with almost any kind of trouble.

Say hello to your mother, comfort her, listen to everything she has to say about me and all the words she calls me. I'm sure she didn't mean it.

I asked the pilot to bring you this letter because I don't want to show my face to the Jedi, and my mother, unlike you, doesn't have as much correspondence, and the letter could be intercepted. Oh, yes, I forgot. The letter comes with my first creation. You can ask any Jedi what that means. I hope you'll always carry it handy; for hundreds of generations of Jedi, the sword is a versatile weapon and a universal tool, except it's difficult to use at lunchtime.

...Though you still have a lot to learn in the high art of hypocrisy. You can take as an example everything I've played for you, the Jedi, and the Chancellor, from the moment the Nabuan Queen, dressed as a maid, graced a junk shop on Tatooine with her presence. In any case, I've done all I can for you and your planet; he who can do better, 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 man - "eyes are blind, only the heart is sharp". Sometimes, to see the truth, it is enough to close your eyes, which are easy to deceive.

P.P.S:

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

I folded the paper in half and removed the lightsaber from my belt. The sight of it made my companions' eyes widen, so to speak. Julian groaned, and the smuggler I'd hired looked at me with a hard stare.

- 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 him:

- There's a button here on the hull. Don't push it and you'll be fine. It's easy to kill yourself with that thing when you're not used to it.

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

- Who shall I take it to?

- Do you know Naboo?

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

- Here," I nodded, "fly there, the city of Teed, the royal palace. Give the letter and sword to the queen herself. Padme Amidala Naberri. Or her guard captain, a man named Panaka. And no one, you hear, no one else.

The smuggler nodded and cautiously pocketed the piece of paper. I handed him the chip with the money in it:

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

- Well, no one's gonna ask me for the letter...

- And don't take contraband on the voyage, the main thing is to deliver the letter. After that, it's up to you. There should be enough work on Naboo right now for a successful enough smuggler.

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

- Anakin... you have a lightsaber, and a queen... 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!

I heard only a muffled groan from Julian. Yeah, I guess my variety of acquaintances is a little... peculiar. He was a junkman on Tatooine, a queen, a Jedi... Did I do the right thing in showing my hand to Padme? I suppose so. I'm sure she wouldn't betray, she doesn't care about Jedi. And then there was this childish desire to show "look at me" and stuff like that. Was I starting to get attached to this girl? I don't know, but she didn't strike me as such a cynical politician, or 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 little bit of kindness to some people around her... in general, not as bad as I imagined before meeting her, but not as naive and vanilla as she was shown in the movie. Not a fairy tale princess, but not a Baba Yaga either. Already starting to like her, as I hinted twice in the letter. I hope she won't get married until I'm gone.... After all, if there's one thing to love, it's a queen!