[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
crab, the Gungan turned and left, flashing a bright smile Anakin's way as he passed. Anakin's eyes followed the retreating Gungan,
but any levity or sense of calm he felt from that last exchange was washed away a moment later, when Padme addressed him in a
tone that reminded him that she was not in the best of moods.
"I do not like this idea of hiding," she said emphatically.
"Don't worry. Now that the Council has ordered an investigation, it won't take Master Obi-Wan long to find out who hired that
bounty hunter. We should have done that from the beginning. It is better to take the offensive against such a threat, to find out the
source rather than try to react to the situation." He meant to go on, to claim credit for asking for such an investigation from the very
beginning, to let Padme know that he had been right all along and that it had taken the Council long enough to come around to his
way of thinking. He could see, though, that her eyes were already beginning to glaze over, so he quieted and let her speak.
"And while your Master investigates, I have to hide away."
"That would be most prudent, yes."
Padme gave a little sigh of frustration. "I haven't worked for a year to defeat the Military Creation Act not to be here when its
fate is decided!"
"Sometimes we have to let go of our pride and do what is requested of us," Anakin replied-a rather unconvincing statement, com-
ing from him-and he knew as soon as he spoke the words that he probably shouldn't have phrased things quite like that.
"Pride!" came the roaring response. "Annie, you're young, and you don't have a very firm grip on politics. I suggest you reserve
your opinions for some other time."
"Sorry, M'Lady, I was only trying to-"
"Annie! No!"
"Please don't call me that."
"What?"
"Annie. Please don't call me 'Annie.' "
"I've always called you that. It is your name, isn't it?"
"My name is Anakin," the young Jedi said calmly, his jaw firm, his eyes strong. "When you say Annie, it's like I'm still a little
boy. And I'm not."
Padme paused and looked him over, head to toe, nodding as she took the sight of him in completely. He could see sincerity on
her face as she nodded her agreement, and her tone, too, became one of more respect. "I'm sorry, Anakin. It's impossible to deny
you've . . . that you've grown up."
There was something in the way she said that, Anakin sensed, some suggestion, some recognition from Padme that he was in-
deed a man now, and perhaps a handsome one at that. That, combined with the little smile she flashed him, had him a bit flushed
and put him back up on his heels. He found an ornament sitting on a shelf to the side, then, and using the Force, picked it up, letting
it hover above his fingers, needing the distraction.
Still, he had to clear his throat to cover his embarrassment, for he was afraid that his voice would break apart as he admitted,
"Master Obi-Wan manages not to see it. He criticizes my every move, as if I was still a child. He didn't listen to me when I insisted
that we go in search of the source of the assassination-"
"Mentors have a way of seeing more of our faults than we would like," Padm agreed. "It's the only way we grow."
With a thought, Anakin used the Force to lift the little globe ornament higher into the air, manipulating it all about. "Don't get me
wrong," he remarked. "Obi-Wan is a great mentor, as wise as Master Yoda and as powerful as Master Windu. I am truly thankful to
be his learner. Only..."
He paused and shook his head, looking for the words. "Only, although I'm a Padawan learner, in some ways-in a lot of ways-I'm
ahead of him. I'm ready for the trials. I know I am! He knows it, too. He feels I'm too unpredictable-other Jedi my age have gone
through the trials and made it. I know I started my training late, but he won't let me move on." Padme's expression grew curious,
and Anakin could well understand her puzzlement, for he, too, was surprised at how openly he was speaking, critically, of Obi-
Wan. He thought that he should stop right there, and silently berated himself.
But then Padme said, with all sympathy, "That must be frustrating."
"It's worse!" Anakin cried in response, willingly diving into that warm place. "He's overly critical! He never listens! He just
doesn't understand! It's not fair!"
He would have gone on and on, but Padme began to laugh, and that stopped Anakin as surely as a slap across the face.
"I'm sorry," she said through her giggles. "You sounded exactly like that little boy I once knew, when he didn't get his way."
"I'm not whining! I'm not."
Across the room, Dorme, too, began to chuckle.
"I didn't say it to hurt you," Padme explained.
35
Anakin took a deep breath, then blew it all out of him, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I know."
He seemed so pitiable then, not pitiful, but just like a lost little soul.
Padme couldn't resist. She walked over to him and lifted her hand to gently stroke his cheek. "Anakin."
For the first time since they had been reunited, Padme truly looked into the blue eyes of the young Padawan, locked stares with
him so that they each could see beneath the surface, so that they each could view the other's heart. It was a fleeting moment, made
so by Padme's common sense.
She quickly altered the mood with a sincere but lighthearted request.
"Don't try to grow up too fast."
"I am grown up," Anakin replied. "You said it yourself." He finished by making his reply into something suggestive, as he
looked deeply into Padme's beautiful brown eyes again, this time even more intensely, more passionately.
"Please don't look at me like that," she said, turning away.
"Why not?"
"Because I can see what you're thinking."
Anakin broke the tension, or tried to, with a laugh. "Oh, so you have Jedi powers, too?"
Padme looked past the young Padawan for a moment, glimpsing Dorme, who was watching with obvious concern and not even
trying to hide her interest anymore. And Padme understood that concern, given the strange and unexpected road this conversation
had taken. She looked squarely at Anakin again and said, with no room for debate, "It makes me feel uncomfortable." Anakin re-
lented and looked away. "Sorry, M'Lady," he said professionally, and he stepped back, allowing her to resume her packing.
Just the bodyguard again.
But he wasn't, Padme knew, no matter how much she wished it were true.
On a water-washed, wind-lashed world, far to the most remote edges of the Outer Rim, a father and his son sat on a skirt of shin-
ing black metal, watching carefully in the few somewhat calm pools created by the currents swirling about the gigantic caryatid
that climbed out of the turbulent ocean. The rain had let up a bit, a rare occasion in this watery place, allowing for some calm sur-
face area, at least, and the pair stared hard, searching for the meter-long dark silhouettes of rollerfish.
They were on the lowest skirt of one of the great pillars that supported Tipoca City, the greatest city on all of Kamino, a place of
sleek structures, all rounded to deflect the continual wind, rather than flat- faced to battle against it. Kamino had been designed, or
upgraded at least, by many of the best architects the galaxy could offer, who understood well that the best way to battle planetary
elements was to subtly dodge them. Towering transparisteel windows looked out from every portal-the father, Jango, often won-
dered why the Kaminoans, tall and thin, pasty white creatures with huge almond-shaped eyes set in oblong heads on necks as long
as his arm, wanted so many windows. What was there to see on this violent world other than rolling waters and nearly constant
downpours? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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crab, the Gungan turned and left, flashing a bright smile Anakin's way as he passed. Anakin's eyes followed the retreating Gungan,
but any levity or sense of calm he felt from that last exchange was washed away a moment later, when Padme addressed him in a
tone that reminded him that she was not in the best of moods.
"I do not like this idea of hiding," she said emphatically.
"Don't worry. Now that the Council has ordered an investigation, it won't take Master Obi-Wan long to find out who hired that
bounty hunter. We should have done that from the beginning. It is better to take the offensive against such a threat, to find out the
source rather than try to react to the situation." He meant to go on, to claim credit for asking for such an investigation from the very
beginning, to let Padme know that he had been right all along and that it had taken the Council long enough to come around to his
way of thinking. He could see, though, that her eyes were already beginning to glaze over, so he quieted and let her speak.
"And while your Master investigates, I have to hide away."
"That would be most prudent, yes."
Padme gave a little sigh of frustration. "I haven't worked for a year to defeat the Military Creation Act not to be here when its
fate is decided!"
"Sometimes we have to let go of our pride and do what is requested of us," Anakin replied-a rather unconvincing statement, com-
ing from him-and he knew as soon as he spoke the words that he probably shouldn't have phrased things quite like that.
"Pride!" came the roaring response. "Annie, you're young, and you don't have a very firm grip on politics. I suggest you reserve
your opinions for some other time."
"Sorry, M'Lady, I was only trying to-"
"Annie! No!"
"Please don't call me that."
"What?"
"Annie. Please don't call me 'Annie.' "
"I've always called you that. It is your name, isn't it?"
"My name is Anakin," the young Jedi said calmly, his jaw firm, his eyes strong. "When you say Annie, it's like I'm still a little
boy. And I'm not."
Padme paused and looked him over, head to toe, nodding as she took the sight of him in completely. He could see sincerity on
her face as she nodded her agreement, and her tone, too, became one of more respect. "I'm sorry, Anakin. It's impossible to deny
you've . . . that you've grown up."
There was something in the way she said that, Anakin sensed, some suggestion, some recognition from Padme that he was in-
deed a man now, and perhaps a handsome one at that. That, combined with the little smile she flashed him, had him a bit flushed
and put him back up on his heels. He found an ornament sitting on a shelf to the side, then, and using the Force, picked it up, letting
it hover above his fingers, needing the distraction.
Still, he had to clear his throat to cover his embarrassment, for he was afraid that his voice would break apart as he admitted,
"Master Obi-Wan manages not to see it. He criticizes my every move, as if I was still a child. He didn't listen to me when I insisted
that we go in search of the source of the assassination-"
"Mentors have a way of seeing more of our faults than we would like," Padm agreed. "It's the only way we grow."
With a thought, Anakin used the Force to lift the little globe ornament higher into the air, manipulating it all about. "Don't get me
wrong," he remarked. "Obi-Wan is a great mentor, as wise as Master Yoda and as powerful as Master Windu. I am truly thankful to
be his learner. Only..."
He paused and shook his head, looking for the words. "Only, although I'm a Padawan learner, in some ways-in a lot of ways-I'm
ahead of him. I'm ready for the trials. I know I am! He knows it, too. He feels I'm too unpredictable-other Jedi my age have gone
through the trials and made it. I know I started my training late, but he won't let me move on." Padme's expression grew curious,
and Anakin could well understand her puzzlement, for he, too, was surprised at how openly he was speaking, critically, of Obi-
Wan. He thought that he should stop right there, and silently berated himself.
But then Padme said, with all sympathy, "That must be frustrating."
"It's worse!" Anakin cried in response, willingly diving into that warm place. "He's overly critical! He never listens! He just
doesn't understand! It's not fair!"
He would have gone on and on, but Padme began to laugh, and that stopped Anakin as surely as a slap across the face.
"I'm sorry," she said through her giggles. "You sounded exactly like that little boy I once knew, when he didn't get his way."
"I'm not whining! I'm not."
Across the room, Dorme, too, began to chuckle.
"I didn't say it to hurt you," Padme explained.
35
Anakin took a deep breath, then blew it all out of him, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I know."
He seemed so pitiable then, not pitiful, but just like a lost little soul.
Padme couldn't resist. She walked over to him and lifted her hand to gently stroke his cheek. "Anakin."
For the first time since they had been reunited, Padme truly looked into the blue eyes of the young Padawan, locked stares with
him so that they each could see beneath the surface, so that they each could view the other's heart. It was a fleeting moment, made
so by Padme's common sense.
She quickly altered the mood with a sincere but lighthearted request.
"Don't try to grow up too fast."
"I am grown up," Anakin replied. "You said it yourself." He finished by making his reply into something suggestive, as he
looked deeply into Padme's beautiful brown eyes again, this time even more intensely, more passionately.
"Please don't look at me like that," she said, turning away.
"Why not?"
"Because I can see what you're thinking."
Anakin broke the tension, or tried to, with a laugh. "Oh, so you have Jedi powers, too?"
Padme looked past the young Padawan for a moment, glimpsing Dorme, who was watching with obvious concern and not even
trying to hide her interest anymore. And Padme understood that concern, given the strange and unexpected road this conversation
had taken. She looked squarely at Anakin again and said, with no room for debate, "It makes me feel uncomfortable." Anakin re-
lented and looked away. "Sorry, M'Lady," he said professionally, and he stepped back, allowing her to resume her packing.
Just the bodyguard again.
But he wasn't, Padme knew, no matter how much she wished it were true.
On a water-washed, wind-lashed world, far to the most remote edges of the Outer Rim, a father and his son sat on a skirt of shin-
ing black metal, watching carefully in the few somewhat calm pools created by the currents swirling about the gigantic caryatid
that climbed out of the turbulent ocean. The rain had let up a bit, a rare occasion in this watery place, allowing for some calm sur-
face area, at least, and the pair stared hard, searching for the meter-long dark silhouettes of rollerfish.
They were on the lowest skirt of one of the great pillars that supported Tipoca City, the greatest city on all of Kamino, a place of
sleek structures, all rounded to deflect the continual wind, rather than flat- faced to battle against it. Kamino had been designed, or
upgraded at least, by many of the best architects the galaxy could offer, who understood well that the best way to battle planetary
elements was to subtly dodge them. Towering transparisteel windows looked out from every portal-the father, Jango, often won-
dered why the Kaminoans, tall and thin, pasty white creatures with huge almond-shaped eyes set in oblong heads on necks as long
as his arm, wanted so many windows. What was there to see on this violent world other than rolling waters and nearly constant
downpours? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]