(Specific dialogues appear in color-coded text:  Anakin Skywalker's comments appear in yellow and  Obi-Wan Kenobi's comments appear in blue, while other character's comments appear in various colors.)

(A more detailed examination of the relationship between Anakin Skywalker & Obi-Wan Kenobi can be found here.)

32 years before the Battle of Yavin - (Anakin Skywalker is 9 years of age)

____________________

    Anakin leveled out his pod, lifting slightly from the rock-strewn floor of the channel, letting his memory and his instincts take him down the winding cut.  When he raced, everything around him slowed down rather than sped up.  It was different than you'd expect.  Rock and sand and shadows flew past in a wild mix of patterns and shapes, and still he could see so clearly.  All the details seemed to jump out at him, as if illuminated by exactly what should make them so difficult to distinguish.  He could almost close his eyes and drive, he thought.  He was that much in tune with everything around him, that much aware of where he was.

____________________

    Signing in frustration, he turned and went out the back of the shop into the yard.  He was a small boy, even at nine years of age, rather compactly built, with a mop of sandy hair, blue eyes, a pug nose, and an inquisitive stare.  He was quick and strong for his age, and he was gifted in ways that constantly surprised those around him.  He was already an accomplished driver in the Podraces, something no human of any age had even been before.  He was gifted with building skills that allowed him to put together almost anything.  He was useful to Watto in both areas, and Watto was not one to waste a slave's talent.

    But what no one knew about him except his mother was the way he sensed things.  Frequently he sensed them before anyone even knew they would happen.  It was like a stirring in the air, a whisper of warning or suggestion that no one else could feel.  It had served him will in the Podraces, but it was also there at other times.  He had an affinity for recognizing how things were or how they ought to be.  He was only nine years old and he could already see the world in ways most adults never would.

____________________

    The boys turned as one.  An old spacer stood leaning on a speeder hitch, watching them.  They knew what he was right away from his clothing, weapons, and the small, worn fighter corps insignia he wore stitched to his tunic.  It was a Republic insignia.  You didn't see many of those on Tatooine.

    "Saw you race today," the old spacer said to Anakin...  "What's your name?"

    "Anakin Skywalker.  These are my friends, Kitster and Wald."

    "You fly like your name, Anakin.  You walk the sky like you own it.  You show promise...  You want to fly the big ships someday?"

    All three boys nodded as one.  The old spacer smiled.  "There's nothing like it.  Nothing.  Flew all the big boys, once upon a time, when I was younger.  Flew everything there was to fly, in and out of the corps.  You recognize the insignia, boys?"

    Again, they nodded, interested now, caught up in the wonder of coming face-to-face with a real pilot - not just of Podracers, but of fighters and cruisers and mainline ships.

    "It was a long time ago," the spacer said, his voice suddenly distant.  "I left the corps six years back.  Too old.  Time passes you by, leaves you to find something else to do with what's left of your life.  How're those ruby bliels?  Still good?  Haven't had one in years.  Maybe now's a good time.  You boys care to join me?  Care to drink a ruby bliel with an old pilot of the Republic?"

    He didn't have to ask twice.

    ...

    "Flew all my life.  Flew everywhere I could manage, and you know what?  I couldn't get to a hundredth of what's out there.  Couldn't get to a millionth.  But it was fun trying.  A whole lot of fun.  Flew a cruiser filled with Republic soldiers into Makem Te during its rebellion.  That was a scary business.  Flew Jedi Knights once upon a time, too."

    "Jedi!" Kitster exhaled sharply.  "Wow!"

    "Really?  You really flew Jedi?" Anakin pressed, eyes wide.

    "Cross my heart and call me bantha fodder if I'm lying.  It was a long time ago, but I flew four of them to a place I'm not supposed to talk about even now.  Told you.  I've been everywhere a man can get to in one lifetime.  Everywhere."

    "I want to fly ships to those worlds one day."

    Wald snorted doubtfully.  "You're a slave, Annie.  You can't go anywhere."

    The old pilot looked down at Anakin.  The boy couldn't look at him.  "Well, in this life you're often born one thing and die another.  You don't have to accept that what you're given when you come in is all you'll have when you leave."

    "Reminds me of something.  I flew the Kessel Run once, long ago.  Not many have done that and lived to tell about it.  Lots told me I couldn't do it, told me not to bother trying, to give it up and go on to something else.  But I wanted that experience, so I just went ahead and found a way to prove them wrong."

    He looked down at Anakin.  "Could be that's what you'll have to do, young Skywalker.  I've seen how you handle a Podracer.  You got the eyes for it, the feel.  You're better than I was at twice your age."  He nodded solemnly.  "You want to fly the big ships, I think maybe you will."

    He stared at the boy, and Anakin stared back.  The old spacer smiled and nodded slowly.  "Yep, Anakin Skywalker, I do think maybe one day you will."

____________________

    He gazed skyward, his mother's hand resting lightly on his arm, and thought about what it would be like to be out there, flying battle cruisers and fighters, traveling to far worlds and strange places.  He didn't care what Wald said, he wouldn't be a slave all his life.  Just as he wouldn't always be a boy.  He would find a way to leave Tatooine.  He would find a way to take his mother with him.  His dreams whirled through his head as he watched the stars, a kaleidoscope of bright images.  He imagined how it would be.  He saw it clearly in his mind, and it made him smile.

    One day, he thought, seeing the old spacer's face in the darkness before him, the wry smile and strange gray eyes, I'll do everything you've done.  Everything.

    He took a deep breath and held it.

    I'll even fly with Jedi Knights.

    Slowly, he exhaled, the promise sealed.

____________________

    There was a great deal Watto didn't know about Anakin Skywalker, the boy thought to himself as he went out the door to claim his speeder and begin his journey.  One of the tricks to being a successful slave was to know things that your master didn't know and to take advantage of that knowledge when it would do you some good.  Anakin had a gift for Podracing and a gift for taking things apart and putting them back together and making them work better than they had before.  But it was his strange ability to sense things, to gain insights through changes in temperament, reactions, and words, that served him best.  He could tune in to other creatures, bond with them so closely he could sense what they were thinking and what they would do almost before they did.  It had served him well in dealing with the Jawas, among others, and it gave him a distinct edge in bartering on Watto's behalf.

____________________

    To all intents and purposes, it would never run.  It was just another childish project.  It was just a little boy's dream.

    But for Anakin Skywalker, it was the first step in his life plan.  He would build the fastest Podracer ever, and he would win ever race in which it was entered.  He would build a starfighter next, and he would pilot it off Tatooine to other worlds.  He would take his mother with him, and they would find a new home.  He would become the greatest pilot ever, flying all the ships of the mainline, and his mother would be so proud of him.

    And one day, when he had done all this, they would be slaves no longer.  They would be free.

    He thought about this often, not because his mother encouraged him in any way or because he was given any reason to think it might happen, but simply because he believed, deep down inside where it mattered, that it must.

____________________

    Anakin Skywalker wasn't afraid of anything.

    Was he?

    Staring into the opaque lenses of the goggles that hid the Tusken Raider's eyes, he contemplated this matter.  Most times he thought there was nothing that could frighten him.  Most times he thought he was brave enough that he would never be afraid.

    But in that most secret part of himself where he hid things he would reveal to no one, he knew he was cheating on the truth.  He might not ever be afraid for himself, but he was sometimes very afraid for his mother.

    What if something were to happen to her?  What if something awful were to happen to her, something he could do nothing to prevent?

    He felt a shiver go down his spine.

    What if he were to lose her?

    How brave would he be then, if the person he was closest to in the whole, endless universe was suddenly taken away from him?  It would never happen, of course.  It couldn't possibly happen.

    But what if it did?

    He stared at the Tusken Raider, and in the deep silence of the night he felt his confidence tremble like a leaf caught in the wind.

____________________

    Anakin Skywalker could not take his eyes off the girl.  He noticed her the moment he entered Watto's shop, even before Watto said anything, and he hadn't been able to stop looking at he since.  He barely heard what Watto said to him about watching the shop.  He barely noticed the strange-looking creature that had come in with her and was poking around in the shelves and bins.  Even after she noticed he was staring at her, he could not help himself.

    He moved now to an open space on the counter, hoisted himself up, and sat watching her while pretending to clean a transmitter cell.  She was looking back at him now, embarrassment turning to curiosity.  She was small and slender with long, braided brown hair, brown eyes, and a face he found so beautiful that he had nothing to which he could compare it.  She was dressed in rough peasant's clothing, but she seemed very self-possessed.

    She gave him an amused smile, and he felt himself melting in confusion and wonder.  He took a deep breath.  "Are you an angel?" he asked quietly.

    The girl stared.  "What?"

    "An angel."  Anakin straightened a bit.  "They live on the moons of Iego, I think.  They are the most beautiful creatures in the universe.  They are good and kind, and so pretty they make even the most hardened space pirates cry like small children."

    She gave him a confused look.  "I've never heard of angels," she said.

    "You must be one of them," Anakin insisted.  "Maybe you just don't know it."

    "You're a funny little boy."  The amused smile returned.  "How do you know so much?"

    Anakin smiled back and shrugged.  "I listen to all the traders and pilots who come through here."  He glanced toward the salvage yard.  "I'm a pilot, you know.  Someday, I'm going to fly away from this place."

    The girl wandered to one end of the counter, looked away, then back again.  "Have you been here long?"

    "Since I was very little - three, I think.  My mom and I were sold to Gardulla the Hutt, but she lost us to Watto, betting on the podraces.  Watto's a lot better master, I think."

    She stared at him in shock.  "You're a slave?"

    The way she said it made Anakin feel ashamed and angry.  He glared at her defiantly.  "I am a person!"

    "I'm sorry," she said quickly, looking upset and embarrassed.  "I don't fully understand, I guess.  This is a strange world to me."

    He studied her intently for a moment, thinking of other things, wanting to tell her of them.  "You are a strange girl to me," he said instead.  He swung his legs out from the counter.  "My name is Anakin Skywalker."

    She brushed at her hair.  "Padme Naberrie."

    The strange creature she had come in with wandered back to the front of the shop and bent over a stout little droid body with a bulbous nose.  Reaching up curiously, it pushed at the nose with one finger.  Instantly, armatures popped out from every direction, metal limbs swinging into place.  The droid's motors whizzed and whirred, and it jerked to life and began moving forward.  Padme's odd companion went after it with a moan of dismay, grabbing on in an effort to slow it down, but the droid continued marching through the shop, knocking over everything it came in contact with.

    "Hit the nose!" Anakin called out, unable to keep himself from laughing.

    The creature did as it was told, pounding the droid's nose wildly.  The droid stopped at once, the arms and legs retracted, the motors shut down, and the droid went still.  Both Anakin and Padme were laughing now, and their laughter increased as they saw the look on the unfortunate creature's long-billed face.

    Anakin looked at Padme and the girl at him.  Their laughter died away.  The girl reached up to touch her hair self-consciously, but she did not divert her gaze.

    "I'm going to marry you," the boy said suddenly.

    There was a moment of silence, and she began laughing again, a sweet musical sound he didn't mind at all.  The creature who accompanied her rolled his eyes.

    "I mean it," he insisted.

    "You are an odd one," she said, her laughter dying away.  "Why do you say that?"

    He hesitated.  "I guess because it's what I believe..."

    Her smile was dazzling.  "Well, I'm afraid I can't marry you..."  She paused, searching her memory for his name.

    "Anakin," he said.

    "Anakin."  She cocked her head.  "You're just a little boy."

    His gaze was intense as he faced her.  "I won't always be," he said quietly.

____________________

    "Me doen nutten!" Jar Jar insisted, still trying to defend himself, hands gesturing for emphasis.

    "You were afraid," the boy told him, looking up at the long-billed face solemnly.  "Fear attracts the fearful.  Sebulba was trying to overcome his fear by squashing you."  He cocked his head at the Gungan.  "You can help yourself by being less afraid."

    "And that works for you?" Padme asked skeptically, giving him a wry look.

    Anakin smiled and shrugged.  "Well... up to a point."

____________________

    Even as he fought his way through the storm, Anakin's thoughts were directed elsewhere.  He was thinking of Padme, of having the chance to take her home to meet his mother, of being able to show her his projects, of holding her hand some more.  It send a flush through him that was both warm and kind of scary.  It made him feel good about himself.  He was thinking of the farmer, too - if that's what he was, which Anakin was pretty sure he wasn't.  He carried a lightsaber, and only Jedi carried lightsabers.  It was almost too much to hope for, tha a real Jedi might be going to his home, to visit him.  But Anakin's instincts told him he was not mistaken, and that something mysterious and exciting had brought this little group to him.

    He was thinking, finally, of his dreams and his hopes for himself and his mother, thinking that maybe something wonderful would come out of this unexpected encounter, something that would change his life forever.

____________________

    "Have you ever seen a Podrace?" Anakin asked, trying to ease her discomfort.

    Padme shook her head no.  She glanced at Shmi, noting the sudden concern on the woman's lined face.  Jar Jar launched his tongue at a morsel of food nestled deep in a serving bowl at the far end of the table, deftly plucking it out, drawing it in, swallowing it, and smacking his lips in satisfaction.  A disapproving look from Qui-Gon quickly silenced him.

    "They have Podracing on Malastare," the Jedi Master observed.  "Very fast, very dangerous."

    Anakin grinned.  "I'm the only human who can do it!"  A sharp glance from his mother wiped the grin from his face.  "Mom, what?  I'm not bragging.  It's true!  Watto says he's never heard of a human doing it."

    Qui-Gon studied him carefully.  "You must have Jedi reflexes if you race Pods."

    Anakin smiled broadly at the compliment.

____________________

    Anakin's young face lifted to the older man's, and his voice was hesitant.  "I... I was wondering something."

    Qui-Gon nodded for him to continue.

    The boy cleared his throat, screwing up his courage.  "You're a Jedi Knight, aren't you?"

    There was a long moment of silence as the man and the boy stared at each other.  "What makes you think that" Qui-Gon asked finally.

    Anakin swallowed.  "I saw your lightsaber.  Only Jedi Knights carry that kind of weapon."

    Qui-Gon continued to stare at him, then leaned back slowly in his chair and smiled.  "Perhaps I killed a Jedi and stole it from him."

    Anakin shook his head quickly.  "I don't think so.  No one can kill a Jedi."

    Qui-Gon's smile faded and there was a hint of sadness in his dark eyes.  "I wish that were so..."

    "I had a dream I was a Jedi," the boy said quickly, anxious to talk about it now.  "I came back here and freed all the slaves.  I dreamed it just the other night, when I was out in the desert."  He paused, his young face expectant.  "Have you come to free us?"

    Qui-Gon Jinn shook his head.  "No, I'm afraid not..."  He trailed off, hesitating.

    "I think you have," the boy insisted, defiance in his eyes.  "Why else would you be here?"

    Shmi was about to say something, to chastise her son for his impudence perhaps, but Qui-Gon spoke first, leaning forward conspiratorially.  "I can see there's no fooling you, Anakin.  But you mustn't let anyone know about us.  We're on our way to Coruscant, the central system in the Republic, on a very important mission.  It must be kept secret."

    Anakin's eyes widened.  "Coruscant?  Wow!  How did you end up out here in the Outer Rim?"

    "Our ship was damaged," Padme answered him.  "We're stranded here until we can repair it."

    "I can help!" the boy announced quickly, anxious to be of service to them.  "I can fix anything!"

    Qui-Gon smiled at his enthusiasm.  "I believe you can, but our first task, as you know from our visit to Watto's shop, is to acquire the parts we need."

____________________

    Anakin leapt to his feet.  "I've built a racer!" he declared triumphantly.  His boy's face shone with pride.  "It's the fastest ever!  There's a big race day after tomorrow, on Boonta Eve.  You could enter my Pod!  It's all but finished-"

    "Anakin, settle down!" his mother said sharply, cutting him short.  Here eyes were bright with concern.  "Watto won't let you race!"

    "Watto doesn't have to know the racer is mine!" the boy replied quickly, his mind working through the problem.  He turned back to Qui-Gon.  "You could make him think it was yours!  You could get him to let me pilot it for you!"

    The Jedi Master had caught the look in Shmi's eyes.  He met her gaze, silently acknowledged her consternation, and waited patiently for her response.

    "I don't want you to race, Annie," his mother said quietly.  She shook her head to emphasize her words, weariness and concern reflected in her eyes.  "It's awful.  I die every time Watto make you do it.  Every time."

    Anakin bit his lip.  "But, Mom, I love it!"  He gestured at Qui-Gon.  "And they need my help.  They're in trouble.  The prize money would more than pay for the parts they need."

    Qui-Gon walked over to Anakin and looked down at him.  "Your mother's right.  Let's drop the matter."  He held the boy's gaze for a moment, then turned back to his mother.  "Do you know of anyone friendly to the Republic who might be able to help us?"

    Shmi stood silent and unmoving as she thought the matter through.  She shook her head no.

    "We have to help them, Mom," Anakin insisted, knowing he was right about this, that he was meant to help the Jedi and his companions.  "Remember what you said?  You said the biggest problem in the universe is that no one helps anyone."

    Shmi sighed.  "Anakin, don't-"

    "But you said it, Mom."  The boy refused to back down, his eyes locked on hers.

    Shmi Skywalker made no response this time, her brow furrowed, her body still.

    "I'm sure Qui-Gon doesn't want to put your son in danger," Padme said suddenly, uncomfortable with the confrontation they had brought about between mother and son, trying to ease the tension.  "We will find another way..."

    Shmi looked over at the girl and shook her head slowly.  "No, Annie's right.  There is no other way.  I may not like it, but he can help you."  She paused.  "Maybe he was meant to help you."

    She said it as if coming to a conclusion that had eluded her until now, as if discovering a truth that, while painful, was obvious.

    Anakin's face lit up.  "Is that a yes?"  He clapped his hands in glee.  "That is a yes!"

____________________

    In the home of Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn stood silently at the doorway of the boy's bedroom and watched him sleep.  His mother and Padme occupied the other bedroom, and Jar Jar Binks was curled up on the kitchen floor in a fetal position snoring loudly.

    But Qui-Gon could not sleep.  It was this boy - this boy!  There was something about him.  The Jedi Master watched the soft rise and fall of his chest as he lay locked in slumber, unaware of Qui-Gon's presence.  The boy was special, he had told Shmi Skywalker, and she had agreed.  She knew it, too.  She sensed it as he did.  Anakin Skywalker was different.

____________________

    The Jedi folded his arms over his broad chest.  The Force was a complex and difficult concept.  The Force was rooted in the balance of all things, and every movement within its flow risked an upsetting of that balance.  A Jedi sought to keep the balance in place, to move in concert to its pace and will.  But the Force existed on more than one plane, and achieving mastery of its multiple passages was a lifetime's work.  Or more.  He knew his own weakness.  He was too close to the life Force when he should have been more attentive to the unifying Force.  He found himself reaching out to the creatures of the present, to those living in the here and now.  He had less regard for the past of the future, to the creatures that had or would occupy those times and spaces.

    It was the life Force that bound him, that gave him heart and mind and spirit.

    So it was he empathized with Anakin Skywalker in ways that other Jedi would discourage, finding in this boy a promise he could not ignore.  Obi-Wan would see the boy and Jar Jar in the same light - useless burdens, pointless projects, unnecessary distractions.  Obi-Wan was grounded in the need to focus on the larger picture, on the unifying Force.  He lacked Qui-Gon's intuitive nature.  He lacked his teacher's compassion for and interest in all living things.  He did not see the same things Qui-Gon saw.

    Qui-Gon sighed.  This was not a criticism, only an observation.  Who was to say that either of them was the better for how they interpreted the demands of the Force?  But it placed them at odds sometimes, and more often than not it was Obi-Wan's position the Council supported, not Qui-Gon's.  It would be that way again, he knew.  Many times.

    But this would not deter him from doing what he believed he must.  He would know the truth about Anakin Skywalker.  He would discover his place in the Force, both living and unifying.  He would learn who this boy was meant to be.

____________________

    "You should be proud of your son," Qui-Gon said after a moment.  "He gives without any thought of reward."

    Shmi nodded, a smile flitting over her worn face.  "He knows nothing of greed.  Only of dreams.  He has..."

    "Special powers."

    The woman glanced at him warily.  "Yes"

    "He can see things before they happen," the Jedi Master continued.  "That's why he appears to have such quick reflexes.  It is a Jedi trait."

    Her eyes were fixed on him, and he did not miss the glimmer of hope that shone there.  "He deserves better than a slave's life," she said quietly.

    Qui-Gon kept his gaze directed out at the courtyard.  "The Force is unusually strong with him, that much is clear.  Who was his father?"

    There was a long pause, long enough for the Jedi Master to realize he had asked a question she was not prepared to answer.  He gave her time and space to deal with the matter, not pressing her, not making it seem as if it were necessary she answer at all.

    "There is no father," she said finally.  She shook her head slowly.  "I carried him, I gave birth to him.  I raised him.  I can't tell you any more than that."

    She touched his arm, drawing his eyes to meet hers.  "Can you help him?"

    Qui-Gon was silent for a long time, thinking.  He felt an attachment to Anakin Skywalker he could not explain.  In the back of his mind, he sensed he was meant to do something for this boy, that it was necessary he try.  But all Jedi were identified within the first six months of birth and given over to their training.  It was true for him, for Obi-Wan, for everyone he knew or had heard about.  There were no exceptions.

    Can you help him?  He did not know how that was possible.

    "I don't know," he told her, keeping his voice gentle, but firm.  "I didn't come here to free slaves.  Had he been born in the Republic, we would have identified him early, and he might have become a Jedi.  He has the way.  I'm not sure what I can do for him."

    She nodded in resignation, but her face revealed, beneath the mask of her acceptance, a glimmer of hope.

____________________

    "Yes, Master?" his protege responded, alert in spite of the lateness of the hour.

    "I'm transmitting a blood sample," Qui-Gon advised, glancing about guardedly as he spoke.  "Run a midi-chlorian test on it."

    He sent the blood readings through the comlink to Obi-Wan and stood waiting in the silence.  He could feel the beating of his heart, quick and excited.  If he was right about this...

    "Master," Obi-Wan interrupted his musings.  "There must be something wrong with the sample."

    Qui-Gon took a slow, deep breath and exhaled softly.  "What do the readings say, Obi-Wan?"

    "They say the midi-chlorian count is twenty thousand."  The younger Jedi's voice tightened.  "No one has a count that high.  Not even Master Yoda."

    No one.  Qui-Gon stood staring out into the night, staggered by the immensity of his discovery.  Then he let his gaze wander back toward the hovel where the boy was sleeping, and stiffened.

____________________

    Anakin walked home with his mother and C-3PO, still wrapped in the euphoria of his victory, but wrestling as well with his sadness over the departure of Padme.  He hadn't thought about what would happen to her if he won the Boonta Eve, that it would mean Qui-Gon would secure the hyperdrive generator he needed to make their transport functional.  So when she bent to kiss and hug him good-bye, it was the first time he had given the matter any serious thought since her arrival.  He was stunned, caught in a mix of emotions, and all of a sudden he wanted to tell her to stay.  But he couldn't bring himself to speak the words, knowing how foolish they would sound, realizing she couldn't do so in any case.

    So he stood there like a droid without its vocoder, watching her ride away behind Qui-Gon, thinking it might well be the last time he would ever see her, and wondering how he was going to live with himself if it was.

____________________

    He was just approaching the connector to Mos Espa Way when a Rodian youngster, bigger than himself, blocked his way.  Anakin had cheated, the Rodian sneered.  He couldn't have won the Boonta Eve any other other way.  No slave could win anthing.

    Anakin was on top of him so fast the bigger being barely had time to put up his arms in defense before he was on the ground.  Anakin was hitting him as hard and fast as he could, not thinking about anything but how angry he was, not even aware that the source of his anger had nothing to do with his victim and everything to do with losing Padme.

    Then Qui-Gon, returned by now with the eopies, was looming over him.  He pulled Anakin away separating the two fighters, and demanded to know what this was all about.  Somewhat sheepishly, but still angry, Anakin told him.  Qui-Gon studied him carefully, disappointment registering on his broad features.  He fixed the young Rodian with his gaze and asked him if he still believed Anakin had cheated.  The youngster, glowering at Anakin, said he did.

    Qui-Gon put his hand on Anakin's shoulder and steered him away from the crowd, not saying anything until they were out of hearing.

    "You know, Annie," he said then, his deep voice thoughtful, "fighting didn't change his opinion.  The opinions of others, whether you agree with them or not, are something you have to learn to tolerate."

____________________

    "Annie has been freed," he said.

    The boy's eyes went wide.  "What?"

    Qui-Gon glanced down at him.  "You are no longer a slave."

    Shmi Skywalker stared at the Jedi in disbelief, her worn face rigid, her eyes mirroring her shock and disbelief.

    "Mom?  Did you hear that, Mom?"  Anakin let out a whoop and jumped as high as he could manage.  It wasn't possible!  But he knew it was true, knew that it really was!

    He managed to collect himself.  "Was that part of the prize, or what?" he asked, grinning.

    Qui-Gon grinned back.  "Let's just say Watto learned an important lesson about gambling."

    Shmi Skywalker was shaking her head, still stunned by the news, still working it through.  But the sight of Anakin's face made everything come clear for her in an instant.  She reached out to him and pressed him to her.

    "Now you can make your dreams come true, Annie," she whispered, her face radiant as she touched his cheek.  "You're free."

    She released him and turned to Qui-Gon, her eyes bright and expectant.  "Will you take him with you?  Is he to become a Jedi?"

    Anakin beamed at the suggestion, wheeling quickly on Qui-Gon, waiting for an answer.

    The Jedi Master hesitated.  "Our meeting was not a coincidence.  Nothing happens by accident.  You are strong with the Force, Annie, but you may not be accepted by the Council."

    Anakin heard what he wanted to hear, blocking away everything else, seeing the possibilities that had fueled his hopes and dreams for so long come alive in a single moment.

    "A Jedi?" he gasped.  "You mean I get to go with you in your starship and everything!"

    And be with Padme again!  The thought struck him like a thunderbolt, wrapping him in such expectancy that it was all he could do to listen to what the Jedi Master said next.

    Qui-Gon knelt before the boy, his face somber.  "Anakin, training to be a Jedi will not be easy.  It will be a challenge.  And if you succeed, it will be a hard life."

    Anakin shook his head quickly.  "But it's what I want!  It's what I've always dreamed about!"  He looked quickly to his mother.  "Can I go, Mom?"

    But Qui-Gon drew him back with a touch.  "This path has been placed before you, Annie.  The choice to take it must be yours alone."

    The man and the boy stared at each other.  A mix of emotions roiled through Anakin, threatening to sweep him away, but at their forefront was the happiness he felt at finding the thing he wanted most in all the world within reach - to be a Jedi, to journey down the space lanes of the galaxy.

    He glanced quickly at his mother, at her worn, accepting face, seeing in her eyes that in this, as in all things, she wanted what was best for him.

    His gaze returned to Qui-Gon.  "I want to go," he said.

    "Then pack your things," the Jedi Master advised.  "We haven't much time."

    "Yippie!" the boy shouted, jumping up and down, anxious already to be on his way.  He rushed to his mother and hugged her as hard as he could manage, then broke away for his bedroom.

    He was almost to the doorway when he realized he had forgotten something.  A chill swept through him as he wheeled back to Qui-Gon.  "What about Mom?" he asked hurriedly, eyes darting from one to the other.  "Is she free, too?  You're coming, aren't you, Mom?"

    Qui-Gon and his mother exchanged a worried glance, and he knew the answer before the Jedi spoke the words.  "I tried to free your mother, Annie, but Watto wouldn't have it.  Slaves give status and lend prestige to their owners here on Tatooine."

    The boy felt his chest and throat tighten.  "But the money from selling..."

    Qui-Gon shook his head.  "It's not nearly enough."

    There was a hushed silence, and then Shmi Skywalker came to her son and sat down in a chair next to him, taking both of his hands in hers and drawing him close.  Here eyes were steady as she looked into his.

    "Annie, my place is here," she said quietly.  "My future is here.  It is time for you to let go... to let go of me.  I cannot go with you."

    The boy swallowed hard.  "I want to stay with you, then.  I don't want things to change."

    She gave him an encouraging smile, her brow knitting.  "You can't stop the change any more than you can stop the suns from setting.  Listen to your feelings, Annie.  You know what's right."

    Anakin Skywalker took a long, slow breath and dropped his gaze, his head lowering.  Everything was coming apart inside, all the happiness melting away, all the expectancy fading.  But then he felt his mother's hands tighten over his own, and in her touch he found the strength he needed to do what he knew he must.

    Nevertheless, his eyes were brimming as he lifted his gaze once more.  "I'm going to miss you so much, Mom," he whispered.

    His mother nodded.  "I love you, Annie."  She released his hands.  "Now, hurry."

    Anakin gave her a quick, hard hug, and raced from the room, tears streaking his face.

____________________

    Once within his own room, Anakin stood staring about in sudden bewilderment.  He was leaving, and he did not know when he would be coming back.  He had never been anywhere but here, never known anyone but the people of Mos Espa and those who came to trade with them.  He had dreamed about other worlds and other lives, about becoming a pilot of a mainline ship, and about becoming a Jedi.  But the impact of what it actually meant to be standing at the threshold of an embarkation to the life he had so often wished for was overwhelming.

    He found himself thinking of the old spacer, telling him that he wouldn't be surprised at all if Anakin Skywalker became something more than a slave.  He had wanted that more than anything, had hoped with all his heart for it to happen.

    But he had never, ever considered the possibility he would have to leave his mother behind.

    He wiped the tears from his eyes, fighting back new ones, hearing his mother's and Qui-Gon's voices from the other room.

    "Thank You," his mother was saying softly.

    "I will watch after him.  You have my word."  The Jedi's deep voice was warm and reassuring.  "Will you be all right?"

    Anakin couldn't hear her reply.  But then she said, "He was in my life for such a short time..."

    She trailed off, distracted.  Anakin forced himself to quit listening, and he began pulling clothes out and stuffing them into a backpack.  He didn't have much, and it didn't take him long.

____________________

    He said good-bye to his mother, braver now, more determined, and walked out the door with Qui-Gon, his course of action settled.  He had gotten barely a dozen meters from his home when Kitster, who had trailed them back from the fight, came rushing up to him.

    "Where are you going, Annie?" his friend asked doubtfully.

    Anakin took a deep breath.  "I've been freed, Kitster.  I'm going away with Qui-Gon.  On a spaceship."

    Kitster's eyes went wide, and his mouth opened in a silent exclamation.  Anakin fished in his pockets and came out with a handful of credits, which he shoved at his friend.  "Here.  These are for you."

    Kitster's dark face looked down at the credits, then back up at Anakin.  "Do you have to go, Annie?  Do you have to?  Can't you stay?  Annie, you're a hero!"

    Anakin swallowed hard.  "I..."  He glanced past Kitster to his mother, still standing in the doorway looking after him, then down to where Qui-Gon was waiting.  He shook his head.  "I can't."

    Kitster nodded.  "Well."

    "Well," Anakin repeated, looking at him.

    "Thanks for everything, Annie," the other boy said.  There were tears in his eyes as he accepted the credits.  "You're my best friend."

    Anakin bit his lip.  "I won't forget."

    He hugged Kitster impulsively, then broke away and raced toward Qui-Gon.  But before he reached him, he glanced back one more time at his mother.  Seeing her standing in the doorway brought him about.  He stood there momentarily, undecided, conflicting emotions tearing at him.  Then his already shaky resolve collapsed altogether, and he raced back to her.  By the time he reached her, he was crying freely.

    "I can't do it, Mom," he whispered, clinging to her.  "I just can't!"

    He was shaking, wracked with sobs, disintegrating inside so quickly that all he could think about was holding on to her.  Shmi let him do so for a moment, comforting him with her warmth, then backed him away.

    She knelt before him, her worn face solemn.  "Annie, remember when you climbed that dune in order to chase the banthas away so they wouldn't be shot?  You were only five.  Remember how you collapsed several times in the heat, exhausted, thinking you couldn't do it, that it was too hard?"

    Anakin nodded, his face streaked with tears.

    Shmi held his gaze.  "This is one of those times when you have to do something you don't think you can do.  But I know how strong you are, Annie.  I know you can do this."

    The boy swallowed his tears, thinking she was wrong, he was not strong at all, but knowing, too, she had decided he must go, even if he found it hard, even if he resisted.

    "Will I ever see you again?" he asked in desperation, giving voice to the worst of his fears.

    "What does your heart tell you?" she asked quietly.

    Anakin shook his head doubtfully.  "I don't know.  Yes, I guess."

    His mother nodded.  "Then it will happen, Annie."

    Anakin took a deep breath to steady himself.  He had stopped crying now, and he wiped the dampness of his tears from his face.

    "I will become a Jedi," he declared in a small voice.  "And I will come back and free you, Mom.  I promise."

    "No matter where you are, my love will be with you," Shmi told him, her kind face bent close to his.  "Now, be brave, and don't look back."

    "I love you, Mom," Anakin said.

    She hugged him one final time, then turned him around so he was facing away from her.  "Don't look back, Annie," she whispered.

    She gave him a small push, and he strode determinedly away, shouldering his pack, keeping his eyes fixed on a point well past where Qui-Gon stood waiting.  He walked toward that point without slowing, marching right past the Jedi Master, fighting back the tears that threatened to come yet again.  It took him only a few minutes, and his mother and his home were behind him.

____________________

    At Anakin's urging, they walked to Jira's fruit stand a short distance away.  Anakin, much recovered from the trauma of leaving his mother, marched up to the old woman and put a handful of credits into her frail hands.

    "I've been freed, Jira," he told her, a determined set to his jaw.  "I'm going away.  Use these for that cooling unit I promised you.  Otherwise, I'll worry."

    Jira looked at the credits in disbelief.  She shook her white head.  "Can I give you a hug?" she asked him softly.  She reached out for him, drawing him against her thin body, her eyes closing as she held him.  "I'll miss you, Annie," she said, releasing him.  "There isn't a kinder boy in the galaxy.  You be careful."

    He left her in a rush, racing after Qui-Gon, who was already moving away, anxious to get going.  They walked in silence down a series of side streets, the boy's eyes taking in familiar sights he would not soon see again, remembering his life here, saying good-bye.

____________________

    Obi-Wan turned to leave.  He stopped when Qui-Gon did not follow, but instead remained standing before the Council.  Obi-Wan held his breath, knowing what was coming.

    Yoda cocked his head questioningly.  "More to say, have you, Qui-Gon Jinn?"

    "With your permission, my Master," the Jedi replied, gaze steady.  "I have encountered a vergence in the Force."

    Yoda's eyes widened slightly.  "A vergence, you say?"

    "Located around a person?" Mace Windu asked quickly.

    Qui-Gon nodded.  "A boy.  His cells have the highest concentration of midi-chlorians I have ever seen in a life-form."  He paused.  "It is possible he was conceived by midi-chlorians."

    There was a shocked silence this time.  Qui-Gon Jinn was suggesting the impossible, that the boy was conceived not by human contact, but by the essence of all life, by the connectors to the Force itself, the midi-chlorians.  Comprising collective consciousness and intelligence, the midi-chlorians formed the link between everything living and the Force.

    But there was more that troubled the Jedi Council.  There was a prophecy, so old its origins had long since been lost, that a chosen one would appear, imbued with an abundance of midi-chlorians, a being strong with the Force and destined to alter it forever.

    It was Mace Windu who gave voice to the Council's thoughts.  "You refer to the prophecy," he said quietly.  "Of the one who will bring balance to the Force.  You believe it is this boy."

    Qui-Gon hesitated.  "I don't presume-"

    "But you do!" Yoda snapped challengingly.  "Revealed, your opinion is, Qui-Gon!"

    The Jedi Master took a deep breath.  "I request the boy be tested."

    Again, there was silence as the members of the Council exchanged glances, communicating without words.

    Eyes shifted back to Qui-Gon.  "To be trained as a Jedi, you request for him?" Yoda asked softly.

    "Finding him was the will of the Force."  Qui-Gon pressed ahead recklessly.  "I have no doubt of it.  There is too much happening here for it to be anything else."

    Mace Windu held up one hand, bringing the debate to a close.  "Bring him before us, then."

    Yoda nodded somberly, eyes closing.  "Tested, he will be."

____________________

    Inside, Anakin Skywalker faced the Jedi Council, standing in the same place Qui-Gon Jinn had stood some hours earlier.  He was nervous as first, brought to the chamber by Qui-Gon, then left alone with the twelve members of the Council.  Standing in the mosaic circle and ringed by the silent assemblage, awestruck and uncertain of what was expected of him, he felt vulnerable and exposed.  The eyes of the Jedi were distant as they viewed him, but he sensed they were looking not past him, but inside.

    They began to question him then, without preliminary introductions or explanations, without expending any effort at all to make him feel comfortable or welcome.  He knew some of them by name, for Qui-Gon had described a few, and he was quick to put faces to names.  They questioned him at great length, testing memory and knowledge, seeking insights at which he could only guess.  They knew of his existence as a slave.  They knew of his background on Tatooine, of his mother and his friends, of his Podracing, of Watto, of everything factual and past, of the order of life.

    Now Mace Windu was looking at a screen the boy could not see, and Anakin was giving names to images that flashed across its liquid surface.  Images appeared in Anakin's mind with such speed he was reminded of the strange blur of desert and mountains whipping past his cockpit during a Podrace.

    "A bantha.  A hyperdrive.  A proton blaster."  The images whizzed through his mind as he named them off.  "A Republic cruiser.  A Rodian cup.  A Hutt speeder."

    The screen went blank, and Mace looked up at the boy.

    "Good, good, young one," the wizened alien called Yoda praised.  The sleepy eyes fixed on him, intent behind their lids.  "How feel you?"

    "Cold, sir," Anakin confessed.

    "Afraid, are you?"

    The boy shook his head.  "No, sir."

    "Afraid to give up your life?" the dark one called Mace Windu asked, leaning forward slightly.

    "I don't think so," he answered, then hesitated.  Something about the answer didn't feel right.

    Yoda blinked and his long ears cocked forward.  "See through you, we can," he said quietly.

    "Be mindful of your feelings," Mace Windu said.

    The old one called Ki-Adi-Mundi stroked his beard.  "Your thoughts dwell on your mother."

    Anakin felt his stomach lurch at the mention of her.  He bit his lip.  "I miss her."

    Yoda exchanged glances with several others on the Council.  "Afraid to lose her, I think."

    Anakin flushed.  "What's that got to do with anything?" he asked defensively.

    Yoda's sleepy eyes fixed on him.  "Everything.  To the Dark side, fear leads.  To anger and to hate.  To suffering."

    "I am not afraid!" the boy snapped irritably, anxious to leave this discussion and move on.

    Yoda did not seem to hear him.  "The deepest commitment, a Jedi must have.  The most serious mind.  Much fear in you, I sense, young one."

    Anakin took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  When he spoke, his voice was calm again.  "I am not afraid."

    Yoda studied him a moment.  "Then continue, we will," he said softly, and the examination resumed.

____________________

    In the Temple of the Jedi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin Skywalker stood before the Council of twelve.  Clustered together at the center of the speaker's platform, they faced the circle of chairs in which the members of the Council were seated, and awaited their decision on the boy.  Outside, the light was pale and wan as twilight replaced sunset, and night began its slow descent across the city.

    "Finished, we are, with our examination of the boy," Yoda advised in his guttural, whispery voice.  His eyes were lidded and sleepy, his pointed ears pricked forward.  "Correct, you were, Qui-Gon."

    Mace Windu nodded his concurrence, his dark, smooth face expressionless in the dim light.  "His cells contain a very high concentration of midi-chlorians."  There was emphasis on the word very as he spoke.

    "The Force is strong in him," Ki-Adi-Mundi agreed.

    Qui-Gon felt a rush of satisfaction on hearing the words, a vindication of his insistence on freeing the boy from his life on Tatooine and bringing him here.  "He is to be trained, then," he declared in triumph.

    There was an uncomfortable silence as the Council members looked from one to the other.

    "No," Mace Windu said quietly.  "He will not be trained."

    Anakin's face crumpled, and there were tears in his eyes as he glanced quickly at Qui-Gon.

    "No?" the Jedi Master repeated in disbelief, shocked almost speechless.  He tried hard to ignore the I-told-you-so look on Obi-Wan's face.

    Mace Windu nodded, dark eyes steady.  "He is too old.  There is already too much anger in him."

    Qui-Gon was incensed, but he held himself in check.  This decision made no sense.  It could not be allowed to stand.  "He is the chosen one," he insisted vehemently.  "You must see it!"

    Yoda cocked his round head contemplatively.  "Clouded, this boy's future is.  Masked by his youth."

____________________

    Aboard the Queen's transport, coming out of hyperspace and approaching the Naboo star system, Qui-Gon Jinn paused on his way to a meeting with the Queen to study Anakin Skywalker.

    The boy stood at the pilot's console next to Ric Olie.  The Naboo pilot was bent forward over the controls, pointing each one out in turn and explaining its function.  Anakin was absorbing the information with astonishing quickness, brow furrowed, eyes intense, concentration total.

    "And that one?"  The boy pointed.

    "The forward stabilizer."  Ric Olie glanced up at him expectantly, waiting.

    "And those control the pitch?"  Anakin indicated a bank of levers by the pilot's right hand.

    Ric Olie's weathered face broke into a grin.  "You catch on pretty quick."

    As quick as anyone he had ever encountered, Qui-Gon Jinn thought.  That was the reason Anakin was so special.  It gave evidence of his high midi-chlorian count.  It suggested anew that he was the chosen one.

    The Jedi Master sighed.  Why could the Council not accept that this was so?  Why were they so afraid of taking a chance on the boy, when the signs were so clear?

    Qui-Gon found himself frustrated all over again.  He understood their thinking.  It was bad that Anakin was so old, but not fatal to his chances.  What troubled them was not his age, but the conflict they sensed within him.  Anakin was wrestling with his parentage, with his separation from his mother, his friends, and his home.  Especially his mother.  He was old enough to appreciate what might happen, and the result was an uncertainty that worked within him like a caged animal seeking to break free.  The Jedi Council knew that it could not tame that uncertainty from without, that it could be mastered only from within.  They believed Anakin Skywalker too old for this, his thinking and his beliefs too settled to be safely reshaped.  He was vulnerable to his inner conflict, and the Dark side would be quick to take advantage of this.

    Qui-Gon shook his head, staring over at the boy from the back of the cockpit.  Yes, there were risks in accepting him as an apprentice.  But few things of worth were accomplished in life without risk.  The Jedi Order was founded on strict adherence to established procedures in the raising and educating of young Jedi, but there were exceptions to all things, even this.  That the Jedi Council was refusing even to consider that this was an instance in which an exception should be made was intolerable.

    Still, he must keep faith, he knew.  He must believe.  The decision not to train Anakin would be reconsidered on their return and reversed.  If the Council did not embrace the boy's training as a Jedi voluntarily, then it would be up to Qui-Gon to find a way to make it do so.

____________________

    Then something moved at the end of a long corridor, no more than a shadow, and deep inside, his instincts kicked into high gear, shrieking at him in a frenzy of need.  He didn't know if what he was seeing was a weapon or a machine or something else, and it didn't matter.  He was back in the Podraces, locked in battle with Sebulba, and he could see what no one else could, what was hidden from all others.  He reacted without thinking, responding to a voice that spoke to him alone, that whispered always of the future while warding him in the present.

____________________

    Obi-Wan did not pause to consider what it had cost him to win his victory over Darth Maul, but rushed immediately to Qui-Gon.  Kneeling at the Jedi Master's side, he lifted his head and shoulders and cradled him gently in his arms.

    "Master!" he breathed in a whisper.

    Qui-Gon's eyes opened.  "Too late, my young Padawan."

    "No!"  Obi-Wan shook his head violently in denial.

    "Now you must be ready, whether the Council thinks you so or not.  You must be the teacher."  The strong face twisted in pain, but the dark eyes were steady.  "Obi-Wan.  Promise me you will train the boy."

    Obi-Wan nodded instantly, agreeing without thinking, willing to say or do anything that would ease the other's pain, desperate to save him.  "Yes, Master."

    Qui-Gon's breathing quickened.  "He is the chosen one, Obi-Wan.  He will bring balance to the Force.  Train him well."

    His eyes locked on Obi-Wan's and lost focus.  His breathing stopped.  The strength and the life went out of him.

____________________

    But it was a nine-year-old boy who had saved them all.  Even without knowing exactly what he was doing, Anakin Skywalker had flown a starfighter into the teeth of the Federation defense, penetrated their shields, landed in the belly of the Neimoidian flagship, torpedoed the ship's reactor, and set off a chain reaction of explosions that destroyed the control station.  It was the destruction of the central transmitter that had caused the droid army to freeze in place, their communications effectively short-circuited.  Anakin claimed not to have attacked with any sort of plan in mind or fired his starfighter's torpedoes with any expectation of hitting the reactor.  But after hearing the boy's tale and questioning him thoroughly, Obi-Wan believed Anakin was guided by something more than the thinking of ordinary men.  That extraordinary midi-chlorian count gave the boy a connection to the Force that even Jedi Masters on the order of Yoda might never achieve.  Qui-Gon, he now believed, had been right.  Anakin Skywalker was the chosen one.

____________________

    "Master Yoda," Obi-Wan greeted, hurrying forward to meet him, bowing deferentially.

    The Jedi Master nodded.  "Confer on you the level of Jedi Knight, the Council does.  Decided about the boy, the Council is, Obi-Wan," he advised solemnly.

    "He is to be trained?"

    The big ears cocked forward, and the lids to those sleepy eyes widened.  "So impatient, you are.  So sure of what has been decided?"

    Obi-Wan bit his tongue and kept his silence, waiting dutifully on the other.  Yoda studied him carefully.  "A great warrior, was Qui-Gon Jinn," he gargled softly, his strange voice sad.  "But so much more he could have been, if not so fast he had run.  More slowly, you must proceed, Obi-Wan."

    Obi-Wan stood his ground.  "He understood what the rest of us did not about the boy."

    But Yoda shook his head.  "Be not so quick to judge.  Not everything, is understanding.  Not all at once, is it revealed.  Years, it takes, to become a Jedi Knight.  Years more, to become one with the Force."

    He moved over to a place where the fading light shone in through a window, soft and golden.  Sunset approached, the appointed time for their farewell to Qui-Gon.

    Yoda's gaze was distant when he spoke.  "Decided, the Council is," he repeated.  "Trained, the boy shall be."

    Obi-Wan felt a surge of relief and joy flood through him, and a grateful smile escaped him.

    Yoda saw the smile.  "Pleased, are you?  So certain this is right?"  The wrinkled face tightened.  "Clouded, this boy's future remains, Obi-Wan.  A mistake to train him, it is."

    "But the Council-"

    "Yes, decided."  The sleepy eyes lifted.  "Disagree with that decision, I must."

    There was a long silence as the two faced each other, listening to the sounds of the funeral preparations taking place without.  Obi-Wan did not know what to say.  Clearly the Council had decided against the advice of Yoda.  That in itself was unusual.  That the Jedi Master chose to make a point of it here emphasized the extent of his concerns about Anakin Skywalker.

    Obi-Wan spoke carefully.  "I will take this boy as my Padawan, Master.  I will train him in the best way I can.  But I will bear in mind what you have told me here.  I will go carefully.  I will heed your warnings.  I will keep close watch over his progress."

    Yoda studied him a moment, then nodded.  "Your promise, then, remember well, young Jedi," he said softly.  "Sufficient, it is, if you do."

    Obi-Wan bowed in acknowledgment.  "I will remember."

____________________

    Anakin Skywalker stood with Obi-Wan, his young face intense as he fought to hold back his tears.

    A long, sustained drum roll traced the passage of the flames as they reduced Qui-Gon to spirit and ash.  When the fire had taken him away, a flight of snowy doves was released into a crimson sunset.  The birds rose in a flutter of wings and a splash of pale brilliance, winging swiftly away.

    ...

    He looked down at Anakin.  The boy was staring at the ashes of the funeral bier, crying softly.

    He put his hand on one slim shoulder.  "He is one with the Force, Anakin.  You must let him go."

    The boy shook his head.  "I miss him."

    Obi-Wan nodded.  "I miss him, too.  And I will remember him always.  But he is gone."

    Anakin wiped the tears from his face.  "What will happen to me now?"

    The hand tightened on the boy's shoulder.  "I will train you, just as Qui-Gon would have done," Obi-Wan Kenobi said softly.  "I am your new Master, Anakin.  You will study with me, and you will become a Jedi Knight, I promise you."

    The boy straightened, a barely perceptible act.  Obi-Wan nodded to himself.  Somewhere, he thought, Qui-Gon Jinn would be smiling.

____________________

    Across the way, Mace Windu stood with Yoda, his strong dark face contemplative as he watched Obi-Wan put his hand on Anakin Skywalker's shoulder.

    "One life ends and a new one begins in the Jedi Order," he murmured, almost to himself.

    Yoda hunched forward, leaning on his gnarled staff, and shook his head.  "Not so sure of this one as of Qui-Gon, do I feel.  Troubled, he is.  Wrapped in shadows and difficult choices."

    Mace Windu nodded.  He knew Yoda's feelings on the matter, but the Council had made its decision.  "Obi-Wan will do a good job with him," he said, shifting the subject.  "Qui-Gon was right.  He is ready."

    They knew of what the young Padawan had done to save himself from the Sith Lord in the melting pit after Qui-Gon had been struck down.  It took an act of extraordinary courage and strength of will.  Only a Jedi Knight fully in tune with the Force could have saved himself against such an adversary.  Obi-Wan Kenobi had proved himself beyond everyone's expectations that day.

    "Ready this time, he was," Yoda acknowledged grudgingly.  "Ready to train the boy, he may not be."

____________________

    Anakin Skywalker stood with Obi-Wan Kenobi near the Queen.  He was feeling out of place and embarrassed.  He thought the parade wonderful, and he appreciated being honored with the others, but his mind was elsewhere.

    It was with Qui-Gon, gone back into the Force.

    It was with Padme, who had barely spoken to him since he had been accepted for training by the Jedi Council.

    It was with his home, to which he might never return.

    It was with his mother, whom he wished could see him now.

    He wore the clothing of a Jedi Padawan, his hair cut short in the Padawan style, a student in training to become a Knight of the Order.  He had achieved all that he had hoped in coming with Qui-Gon to Coruscant and beyond.  He should have been happy and satisfied, and he was.  But his happiness and satisfaction were clouded by the sadness he could not banish at losing Qui-Gon and his mother both.  They were lost to him in different ways, to be sure, but there were gone out of his life.  Qui-Gon had provided the stability he required to leave his mother behind.  With the Jedi Master's death, Anakin was left adrift.  There was no one who could give him the grounding that Qui-Gon had provided - not Obi-Wan, not even Padme.  One day, perhaps.  One day, each of them would play a part in his life that would change him forever.  He could sense that.  But for now, when it mattered most, he felt all alone.

    So he smiled, but he was sick in spirit and lost in his heart.

    Perhaps, sensing his discomfort, Obi-Wan reached over to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  "It's the beginning of a new life for you, Anakin," he ventured.

    The boy smiled back dutifully, but said nothing.

    Obi-Wan looked off at the crowds in front of them.  "Qui-Gon always disdained celebrations.  But he understood the need for them, as well.  I wonder what he would have made of this one."

    Anakin shrugged.

    The Jedi smiled.  "He would have been proud to see you a part of it."

    The boy looked at him.  "Do you think so?"

    "I do.  Your mother would be proud of you as well."

    Anakin's mouth tightened, and he looked away.  "I wish she was here.  I miss her."

    The Jedi's hand tightened on his shoulder.  "One day you will see her again.  But when you do, you will be a Jedi Knight."

29 years before the Battle of Yavin - (Anakin Skywalker is 12 years of age)

____________________

    Fear, hatred, anger...  The old trio Anakin fought every day of his life, though he revealed his deepest emotions to only one man: Obi-Wan Kenobi, his Master in the Jedi Temple.

    The Blood Carver stooped slightly on his three-jointed legs.  "You smell like a slave," he said softly, for Anakin's ears alone.

    It was all Anakin could do to keep from throwing off his wings and going for the Blood Carver's long throat.  He swallowed his emotions down into a private cold place and stored them with the other dark things left over from Tatooine.  The Blood Carver was on target with his insult, which stiffened Anakin's anger and made it harder to control himself.  Both he and his mother, Shmi, had been slaves to the supercilious junk dealer, Watto.  When the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn had won him from Watto, they had had to leave Shmi behind... something Anakin thought about every day of his life.

____________________

    "A very interesting problem you face, and so we all face, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

    Obi-Wan, ever the polite one, had tilted his head as if he were not acquainted with any particular problem.

    "The Chosen One Qui-Gon gave to us all, not proven, full of fear, and yours to save.  And if you do not save him..."

    Yoda had said nothing more to Obi-Wan about Anakin thereafter.

____________________

    This was a place most would find terrifying, where most beings would certainly die, yet he was only a boy, a mere child, a former slave, relying not on Jedi training so much as raw native courage.  He was alone, happy to be alone!  He would gladly live out the rest of his life in this kind of immediate peril if he could simply forget the past failures that haunted him at night, whenever he tried to sleep.  The failures - and the terrifying sense of carrying something beyond his power to control.

    The dark empty boots that trod the worst of his nightmares.

____________________

    This raised his neck hair in a way no static discharge could explain.  It was as if he faced the primitive gods of the garbage pit, the real masters of this place, yet to think this even for a moment went against all of his training.  The Force is everywhere and demands nothing, neither obedience nor awe.

    But this, of course, was what he needed to experience in order to forget.  He needed to strip down to pure savagery, to that place below his name, his memory, his self, where ominous shadows dwelled, and where one could turn in an instant from the light side of the Force to the dark and hardly know they were different.

____________________

    Obi-Wan Kenobi had never felt so close to such a powerful connection with the Force, not in Qui-Gon, nor Mace Windu.  Not even in Yoda.

____________________

    He did not like the fact that he had won.  It seemed wrong that he had stepped so far out of line, and yet had been retained as a Padawan.  He did not like the unease this victory, if victory it was, produced in him.  Above all weaknesses, arrogance was the most costly.

    They keep me here because I have potential they've never seen before.  They keep me in training because they're curious to see what I can do.  I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true - or whether they just want his money.

    This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair.  Why do they put up with me, then?  Why do I keep testing them?  They tell me to use my pain - but sometimes I don't even know where the pain comes from!  I worried my mother - and I tested her, again and again, to make sure she loved me.  She sent me away so I could be brought up by stronger people.  So I could control myself.  And I still haven't learned.

____________________

    Anakin dreaded sleep.

    It seemed, in his dreams, that something inside was testing him, something very strong, and it did not care whether it was loved or feared.

____________________

    Anakin sat in the small side seat on the bridge with his elbows propped on his knees, watching Zonoma Sekot.  He had performed his first set of exercises for the day, and his thoughts were particularly clear.  It seemed sometimes, when his mind was settled, when he had tamed his turbulence for the moment, that he was no longer a boy or even a human.  His perspective seemed crystalline and universal, and he felt as if he could see all his life laid out before him, filled with accomplishment and heroism - selfless heroism, of course, as befitted a Jedi.  Somewhere in that life would be a woman, though Jedi did not often marry.  He imagined the woman to be like Queen Amidala of Naboo, a powerful personality in her own right, lovely and dignified, yet sad and shouldered with great burdens - which Anakin would help lift.

____________________

     Many paths to many futures flowed from any single moment, and yet, by being in tune with the Force, an adept could chart the most likely path for his awareness to follow.  It seemed contradictory that one could prepare a path into a future, without knowing what that future would hold - yet that is what ultimately happened, and that is what a Jedi Master could do.

     Obi-Wan was not yet so lofty in his accomplishments, he had told Anakin, but there had been hints that before any mission, any disciplined Jedi - even a mere Padawan - could also do a kind of looking forward.

     Anakin was sure he was doing something like that now.  It felt as if the cells in his body were tuned to a severely faded signal from the future, a voice, large and heavy, as if weighed down, unlike any other voice he had ever heard...

____________________

    Anakin felt as if he were in a gigantic colony of myrmins.

    Then he felt the voices of the seeds.  They are afraid.  The heat is baking them.  Their shells are crisping.

    Most of the heat rose in rippling sheets of air, but as the fuel blazed and embers settled out, the seeds were being roasted like sugar hulls in a campfire.

    Perversely, Anakin shivered as if with cold.

    Obi-Wan put an arm on his shoulders.  Anakin saw that his Master's face was beaded with sweat.  He, too, could feel the seeds in the fire.

    "Something wrong?"  Vagno asked...

    "We're fine," Obi-Wan said.

    But Anakin did not feel fine.  He wanted to curl up and hide, or run, but he knew the seeds no longer had legs, no way of escaping, even if they wanted to.

    "I've never lost a client.  No fear, no fear," Vagno said.

    "The seeds were afraid but did not move under their burden of embers and flame.  Theirs was courage, and also an awareness of fate or destiny.

    The seeds were not nearly as intelligent as a human - they did not really think for themselves - but inside of each was the potential for awareness and intelligence.  The fire was bringing that awareness to the fore.

    This will happen to you.

    Anakin gasped.  He was not dreaming.

    This is your destiny, your fate.

    Obi-Wan had said nothing.  Anakin knew where the voice was coming from, whom it belonged to, but could not believe what he knew.

    There will be heat and death and resurrection.  A seed will quicken.  Will it burn or shine?  Will it think and create or be ruled by fear and destroy?

    And then the voice fell silent.

____________________

    The mind's fear - his worst enemy, the deepest and darkest failing of Anakin Skywalker - was another problem, one he was not sure he would ever overcome.

____________________

    He was taking the Blood Carver away from Obi-Wan, giving his Master time to recover.  It was unfortunate that Jabitha had crawled into the ship.  Anakin was more than just concerned for her safety.

    He could feel his strength returning, and then building.  To his dismay, the primary component of that strength was a red heat of anger.

    It is the way, boy.  Anger and hatred are the fuel.  Stoke them, gather strength.

    Again, the voice, terrifying in its power.  Anakin could not identify its intent - it was raw, the voice of loyalty and survival, and it seemed to sneer at any second-guessing.

    Anakin did not want Jabitha to see what that voice would make him be, what he would become, in order to save Obi-Wan, defeat his enemies, and survive.

____________________

    "You still have honor," Anakin said.  "You can still make up for what you did."  But something else built inside, a shadow far thicker than the descending night.  It could easily fill his being.

    The Blood Carver had hurt Obi-Wan, threatened Jabitha, called Anakin a slave.  For these things there was no possible redemption.  The banked anger threatened to spill over, unconverted, pure and very raw, hot as a sun's core.  Anakin's fingers curled tighter.

    "My benefactor cursed me," Ke Daiv said.

    Let it be done now.  Anakin had made his decision, or it had been made for him.  No matter.

    Anakin let the fingers go straight.

    Ke Daiv closed on the boy, swinging his lance.

    "Stop that," Anakin said coldly.

    "What will you do, slave boy?"

    It was the connection Anakin had sought, the link between his anger and his power.  Like a switch being thrown, a circuit being connected, he returned full circle to the pit race, to the sting he had felt with the Blood Carver's first insult, with the first unfair and sneaky move that had sent Anakin tumbling off the apron.  Then, back farther, to the dingy slave quarters on Tatooine, to the Boonta Eve Podrace and the treachery of the Dug, and to the last sight of Shmi, still in bondage to the disgusting Watto, to all the insults and injuries and shames and night sweats and disgrace piled upon disgrace that he had never asked for, never deserved, and had borne with almost infinite patience.

    Call it instinct, animal nature, call it the upwelling of hatred and the Dark side - in Anakin Skywalker, all this lay just beneath the surface, at the end of its journey out of a long, deep cave leading down to unimaginable strength.

    "No!  Stop it, please!" Anakin yelled.  "Help me stop it!"  The rumbling of his ascending power drowned out this plea for his Master to come and prevent a hideous mistake.  I am so afraid, so full of hate and anger.  I still don't know how to fight.

    Jabitha appeared in the doorway, eyes wide, watching the boy crouched low before the Blood Carver.  Ke Daiv lifted his lance.  What would have once seemed quick as lightning was now, in the eyes of the young Padawan, a slow, curiously protracted swing."

    Anakin raised his hands in the twin and supremely graceful gestures of Jedi compulsion.  Pure willful self flooded his tissues.  The urge to protect and to destroy became one.  He straightened and seemed to grow taller.  His eyes became black as pitch.

    "Stop it, please!" Anakin shouted.  "I can't hold it back any longer!"

____________________

    Ke Daiv stepped toward her and lifted a hand.  She was almost too afraid to look at his face, but when she did, she screamed.  His eyes had turned white, and the flesh around his head and neck had cracked.  He was bleeding profusely, and his dark orange blood dripped down over his shoulders.  He was trying to say something.

    Jabitha backed away, speechless with terror.

    "I tried to control it," Anakin said, and emerged into the twilight.  The pinwheel's purple glory illuminated them with the fading of the dusk.  The Blood Carver lurched forward step by step toward the edge of the field, away from the Sekotan ship.

    "Stop him," Anakin said.  "Please help me stop him."

    Jabitha walked beside the boy toward the pitiful figure of their enemy.

    "Is he dying?" she asked.

    "I hope not," Anakin said as if ashamed.  "By the Force, I hope not."

    "He was going to kill you," she said.

    "That doesn't matter," Anakin said.  &quo