Chapter Text
Book One
Chapter One
The sandstorm melted into the Tatooine desert with the rising of the twin suns. Mos Espa denizens emerged from the safety of humble dwellings with watchful eyes on the horizon. Business on Tatooine, after all, stopped for nothing but death, though the increasingly vicious sandstorms plaguing the planet of late certainly slowed businesses down.
Adrina adjusted her small pack on her shoulder and stepped out into the early dawn. Sand swirled around her feet, rustling her homespun gray skirts. The trek to Watto’s Shop was not a long one, but she had a stop to make before opening her master’s shop.
Beside her, Anakin yawned into his hand. She reached out and squeezed her brother’s shoulder. They walked in silence.
“Good morning, Jira,” Adrina called to their friend, raising a hand in greeting.
Jira looked up from her fruit stall. Her weathered face split into a wide grin. Anakin surged forward and wrapped her in a bracing hug. Adrina offered a small smile and helped Jira raise the awning. The tattered cloth offered scant protection against the blazing heat of the midday suns, but it was enough.
Adrina noted the hobble in Jira’s step and the grimace when she eased into her stool with a long sigh. “That was a bad one last night.” Her unspoken questions hung in the air.
Jira chuckled, waving away Adrina’s keen eyes. “These old bones have weathered worse. Don’t you go about worrying about old Jira. You have enough worries of your own.”
Adrina’s heart sunk further into her stomach at the pity in her old friend’s eyes. “What have you heard?” Anakin glanced curiously between Adrina and Jira.
“You’ll be opening the shop yourself this morning,” Jira said.
Adrina’s shoulders drooped. Watto must have spent a good deal of time in the cantina last night. She hoped he only spent time , and not currency. Watto’s recent string of gambling losses threatened the tenuous solvency his shop enjoyed. Mounting debts, in turn, threatened to break up Adrina’s precious chosen family.
Adrina drew Anakin into a one-armed hug. “Take care of yourself, Jira. I’ll stop by on my way home tonight, if I can, and help you close up. You work too hard.” Not that Jira had much choice in the matter. Even the free were slaves to their own needs.
Jira gave her a concerned smile and Adrina’s carefully constructed armor cracked. “Best hurry along now, children.” With practiced ease telling of her youthful vagrancy, Jira slipped two wupiupi into Adrina’s wide brown belt. Adrina opened her mouth to protest, but Jira shushed her, as always. So Adrina squeezed Jira’s frail shoulder, conveying what her words never could.
The two tiny coins weighed on her mind as they marched to work. For years now, Jira gifted them wupiupi whenever she had any to spare - collected and nurtured in a small jar - in the hope that one day the entire Skywalker family could be freed. A comforting delusion, but that is all it would likely ever be - a delusion. Still, Shmi’s beautiful face lit up whenever a coin joined its brethren in that battered ceramic jar, and so Adrina never failed to present the generous gifts with flourish, just to see her adopted mother’s teary smile, that glimmer of hope in her tired eyes.
Anakin tipped his head up, face scrunched in contemplation. “Do you think it will be soon?”
Adrina’s heart sank at the familiar question, but she smiled and ruffled Anakin’s hair. “What do you think?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Really soon. I know it. We’ll be free.”
Adrina’s throat constricted.
A few blocks later and Adrina keyed the door open. She lingered in the doorway. A gentle something tugged at her belly - a warning. She learned long ago to listen to that something , and so she said, “Get a head start on the courtyard. I’ll get the front ready.”
Anakin frowned at the change of roles, but shrugged. He trudged into the courtyard, trailed by his small army of pit droids. Adrina smiled wistfully after him and began the tedious process of opening the shop.
The bell above the door twinkled. Bent over behind the counter to retrieve the dust rag, she froze. The hair on the back of her neck raised and a shiver ran through her body. Danger. Adrina straightened to stare down the barrel of a blaster.
“Credits, now,” the Rodian demanded. He thrust a worn bag across the counter. “No funny business.”
Adrina stared at him, grabbing the bag on reflex. Adrina glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes as she opened the near empty till. Sweat beaded his forehead and his hand shook. Clear eyes darted around the shop. She slowly dropped credits into the bag to allow time to think. A nervous thief could be more dangerous than one high on spice. She knew this Rodian would shoot if agitated.
“There isn’t much here. We just opened.”
“Cut the chatter. Just hand it over.” He shook the blaster in her face.
Adrina smiled placidly. She kept her voice low and calm, as if speaking to a wild massiff, even as her legs began to tremble. “Just thinking about your profit margin. No need to get excited. It’s just you and me.”
Metal clattered to the ground. The Rodian jumped and spun to the open door. Faint grumbling drifted into the shop.
Fear widened Adrina’s eyes. The blaster vascilated from the door to Adrina’s chest. The bag dangled uselessly from Adrina’s raised hands. “It’s just my little brother. A kid. A part just fell down one of the junk heaps. That’s all.”
With the spectacularly abysmal timing that only Anakin could manage, he rounded the corner clutching his hand, only to balk wide-eyed at the blaster suddenly pointed directly at him.
Reacting on instincts that rarely failed her, Adrina threw the bag. The make-shift weapon sailed through the air with just enough force to send the blaster flying. The Rodian coiled, ready to dash for his lost weapon, and Adrina dove across the counter awkwardly. They hit the ground hard.
“Go, Ani!” She shouted. The Rodian shoved her off. She grabbed his ankle as he scrambled for the blaster and yanked him back. He kicked and flailed, but Adrina held firm, dodging the blows she could, grunting when a heavy boot struck.
Hands wrapped around Adrina’s throat. Dimly, she registered Anakin’s wrathful howl as he charged forward, tackling the Rodian off her.
Adrina made a mad grab for the blaster. The cool metal slid just out of reach under the shelves. The Rodian knocked Anakin into the counter. He collapsed in a heap, cradling his head.
Beady orange eyes swiveled back to Adrina. Suddenly the blaster was in her hand. One shot and it was over. The Rodian crumpled. For a moment, Adrina stared at the body. Jelly replaced her legs. She braced herself against the shelf beside her.
“Is he…” Anakin staggered to his feet.
The Rodian twitched.
Adrina pursed her lips. “Sadly, no.” She scrubbed her face. “Take care of the till while I haul his sorry carcass outside.”
She sympathized with the aspiring thief’s plight - she truly did. But most on Tatooine had a tragic story; there was no excusing his behavior. So, Adrina stuffed the blaster in her belt and hauled the Rodian into the alley behind the shop. The blaster Watto would have to take care of, but whatever - likely unfortunate thing - happened to the Rodian….Well, that was his just reward.
“Let me see your head,” Adrina said, walking back inside.
Shoving the till closed, Anakin groaned. “I’m fine,” he whined.
“I saw you rubbing your head. Just let me see.”
Anakin huffed. She met him halfway. Nimble fingers plunged into his sandy hair. Adrina closed her eyes, searching for the smallest bump or cut. Healthy. Adrina bit her lip and dropped her hands. She had to trust that something. Shmi called it a gift, but Adrina knew it was nothing but an uncanny perception, honed in the depths of Jabba’s Palace.
But how the blaster flew into her hand from feet away, how she miraculously healed from severe injury… Well… Wasn’t everyone just a bit odd? Some things were better left unexamined.
0
“ Zanki ,” Adrina bowed her head as she thanked the departing customer. With the ferocity of the recent sandstorms, Zythe, like many, struggled to keep his droids in working order.
Adrina waited until the Bith had left the shop before returning to Watto’s courtyard. The strenuous task of cleaning and organizing the yard provided ample distraction from the startling beginning of the day. Watto, thankfully, handled the majority of the customers, freeing the Skywalker siblings to perform the most laborious tasks.
“How are those fan switches coming?” Adrina smiled and ruffled her younger brother’s sandy hair as she walked by him.
Anakin scowled and fixed his hair. “I wish the scavengers would clean this junk before they sold it,” he grumbled.
Adrina huffed out a laugh under her breath. Sand spilled out of the X-series repulser engine she plucked from the heap. She shook it gently to dislodge what sand she could. “I wish we didn’t have so many sandstorms.” It was a common sentiment on Tatooine, especially in recent months; the sandstorms had been particularly harsh that year.
Watto’s voice, brusquely greeting new customers, drifted out of the front shop. With any luck, the work would be done before the scavenger shipment arrived at the end of the day. Watto hollered for Anakin.
“I’ll never get these cleaned,” Anakin groaned. Adrina held her hand out to catch his grimy rag as he dashed inside.
Adrina listened with disinterest to Watto’s exchange with the customer as they meandered through the courtyard. The human searched for a hyperdrive for a J-type 327 Nubian, an unexpected request from such a humbly dressed man. She frowned, studying him as she reorganized a haphazard junk heap. His skin - weathered by time, not sun or toil - and clean hair and clothing spoke volumes. Besides, a moisture farmer could never afford an expensive, luxurious Nubian. A smuggler, then?
Ah, but the customer was from the Republic. Adrina snorted, shaking her head. Republic credits were as useless on Tatooine as a fishnet umbrella in a rainstorm. She remembered being outside in a rainstorm once, on her home world, but that was a long time ago. She shoved the memory aside. Likely not a smuggler, then. More likely, he was the bodyguard of an entitled Republic elite, on the run from some scrape their poor decisions had gotten them into.
“Ootmians, ” Watto spat after the unhappy customer disappeared. “They think they know everything.” Adrina had to agree. “Eh, you, go pick up the order from Tiber and tell him he still owes me from the last podrace.”
Adrina’s stomach plummeted. She clenched her fists behind the folds of her skirt. She licked her lips. Her question danced on her parted lips for a moment before she braced for abuse and hesitantly asked, “Not Ererki?”
“Sandstorm delayed. Tiber is here for another week.” Watto waved her away, muttering descriptive obscenities about the duplicitous Chiss scavenger. She echoed the sentiments, but kept her eyes lowered. It wasn’t a slave’s place to make such comments aloud.
Adrina slipped out of the shop and melted into the crowd of people. She glanced up at the sky. The looming darkness promised another duster coming. Adrina paused in momentary indecision. Tiber stayed on the outskirts - on the opposite end of town from her hovel. If Tiber didn’t delay her, she could complete Watto’s task and seek shelter in Watto’s Shop; she doubted she could make it all the way home before the storm hit in force. If she turned back now, she could certainly shelter with her family, but leaving her task delayed… Watto would be furious. With his business struggling and gambling debts mounting, it was only a matter of time before he began to liquidate his assets. A shiver ran down her spine.
After a decade of slavery on Tatooine, Adrina was no fool. Her chosen family had been uncommonly lucky to stay together as long as they had. Her resolve hardened. She continued her onward trudge. If dealing with a reprobate saved Watto a few coins, she could suffer the abuse and indignity.
Tiber leaned against his landspeeder, lazily twirling a vibroblade. He pushed off the worn speeder. She felt his glowing red eyes, hidden behind a sun visor, roaming her body. Adrina clenched the repulsorlift handle until her knuckles turned white. She kept her chin high in defiance of the gnawing warning deep in her belly. Danger.
Adrina stopped a good distance from the lecherous scavenger and his wandering hands. Tiber’s answering chuckle skittered across her frayed nerves. “If you want the goods, you’ll have to come closer than that.” Adrina bit her tongue when Tiber crooked a finger and patted the tarp-covered lump behind him.
Blood rushed in her ears. Adrina took a wide path around to the other side. Tiber allowed her space, though she knew from experience the reprieve would be short lived. Adrina lifted the canvas, but it was merely a show. She glanced again at the darkening skies.
The distraction cost her. Tiber slid up behind her, caging her against his speeder. He stunk of oil and unwashed flesh. His hot breath puffed against her cheek. “You are always welcome to…inspect the goods. I guarantee you’ll never be left wanting.” His hand snaked around her waist, palm flat across her belly, and pulled her against him. “If you’re a good girl, I might even give you a present.”
Molten rage, hotter than the twin suns, burned away the icy fear that had stolen over her. Rage, at the liberties wantonly taken from slaves. Rage, at those who allowed them. Rage, that defending herself would only bring retribution from Tibor and worse punishment from Watto. So Adrina took that burning rage and screaming agony and locked them away with the rest of her emotions.
Mercifully, Tibor released her with a chuckle and pat on her bottom. “Next time,” he whispered in her ear. “Run along home now. Dream of me.”
Adrina transferred the goods and bolted. She maneuvered Mos Espa’s streets blindly. Wind whipped her clothes, sand stinging and biting exposed flesh. An eternity later, the shop door slid closed behind her, silencing the howl of the wind. Swirling sand settled on the floor. The dim lights indicated Watto had already sent Anakin home and ascended to his roost. She knew he was safe, a deep comfort.
Adrina abandoned the repulsorlift inside the door, crawled under the counter, and wept.
0
The storm lasted much of the evening. Adrina’s muscles ached. The hollow pit in her stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s scant lunch. She grimaced, sitting up stiffly, and rubbed the back of her neck. The shop was still empty, though Watto was sure to be coming down from his roost any moment.
Lagging feet carried her into the courtyard. At least the ordinarily useless droids managed to secure tarps tightly over the mounds of merchandise. At least the sandstorm had been mild. She sighed and began the tedious process of unloading the repulsorlift and readying the courtyard.
A too familiar gnawing in her belly distracted Adrina. Trouble.
Adrina straightened when Watto flew outside. “Not much damage, sir,” Adrina reported. “Things were pretty secure.”
“Good, good,” Watto muttered in Huttese. “Start cleaning up.”
Anakin arrived, chattering and happy, a few minutes later. Too distracted to register anything he said, Adrina smiled and nodded as it seemed appropriate until Watto called Anakin into the shop.
Adrina worked harder and faster than was normal in an attempt to ignore her rumbling stomach and uneasy something . An animated discussion broke her focus. Unsure why, she rose, dusted her skirts off, and stepped inside the building. She blinked. The Republic man was back, this time accompanied by an equally puzzling young woman.
Watto fluttered over to them, laughing, leaving Anakin by the counter. Adrina picked up the part nearest her – she didn’t care to see what it was – and began polishing. The woman’s delicacy provided a stark contrast to Tatooine’s roughness. Her smooth, clean hands and elaborate, free-falling braids were hardly suitable for hard work on Tatooine. Like her companion, her pristine clothing stood out.
Adrina ignored the small flicker of jealousy at the young woman’s clean clothing and delicate porcelain skin.
“The boy tells me you wanta sponsor him insa race.” Watto’s sneer grabbed Adrina’s attention. “You can’t afford parts. How can you do this? Not on Republic credits, I think.”
Adrina’s heart plummeted at the thought of her baby brother racing in the Boonta Eve. Unease and indignation roiled inside her. Her eyes darted to Anakin, but he was carefully avoiding her gaze. Was this what Anakin had been chattering so enthusiastically about? Turning to the Republic man, she desperately searched for signs of deception or joke, but found none. Adrina’s jaw tightened. Anakin had clearly spoken to the man about this, too; he wouldn’t avoid her gaze if he was innocent.
“My ship will be the entry fee.” The man pulled a small object out of his belt and a hologram of a Nubian floated above it. It was a handsome ship – certainly worth a small fortune. “It’s in good order, except for the parts we need.”
Watto frowned. “But what will the boy ride?” Watto pressed shrewdly. “He smashed up my Pod in the last race. It will take some time to fix it.”
Indignation flared in the Skywalker siblings. “It wasn’t my fault, really!” Anakin insisted. “Sebulba flashed me with his vents.”
“And he saved the pod,” Adrina added. She loathed the thought of her brother racing, but she wouldn’t let his reputation be demeaned without a fight. The man’s gaze swiveled to her, as if he hadn’t noticed her before she spoke. Adrina averted her eyes.
Anakin shifted uncomfortably. “Most of it, anyway.”
Watto had to admit the truth of it.
The man pressed his advantage. “I have acquired a Pod in a game of chance – the fastest ever built.”
Adrina’s eyes flicked to Anakin. That sounded suspiciously like something Anakin had declared a few days ago. Had Anakin been speaking to this ootmian?
“I hope you didn’t kill anyone I know for it.” Watto laughed. “So, you supply the Pod and entry fee; I supply the boy. We split the winnings fifty-fifty, I think.” Adrina frowned. It was hardly a fair deal, and the man agreed with her.
“Fifty-fifty?” The man repeated. “If it’s going to be fifty-fifty, I suggest you front the cash for the entry. If we win, you keep all the winnings, minus the cost of the parts I need... If we lose, you keep my ship.”
Watto debated. It was a risky gamble on the man’s part, especially considering Anakin had never won a race before. Statistically, the odds were solidly in Watto’s favor.
“Either way, you win.”
“Deal!” Watto announced. The man looked pleased. Watto turned to Anakin. “Yo bana pee ho-tah, meedee ya.” Anakin’s eyes flashed, but kept his mouth sealed. Watto flew out into the courtyard cackling.
“Anakin!” Adrina pulled him further away from the customers. “What is going on? I’m away for one night and you decide to race in the Boonta? Mom will never let you!”
Anakin beamed. “But Mom’s already agreed!”
Adrina’s mouth hung open, shell-shocked and horrified. “Mom’s agreed?”
“Yep!”
“Don’t sound so smug, Ani. This is serious! You could be killed in the Boonta! That last race nearly...”
“Young Anakin has been gracious enough to offer up his services to help us.”
Adrina whirled around to face the man who had spoken, placing herself between the strangers and her brother. Her expression was stony, but her eyes flashed fire. She kept one hand on Anakin’s shoulder, the other clenched tightly at her side.
The man’s young companion stepped forward. “We would not ask Anakin if there was another way.”
“They need my help, Rina,” Anakin told her softly. “If I win, they can fix their ship and fly far away. They’re stuck here right now.” Adrina said nothing. “You know what Mom always says, that no one ever helps anyone else. I can help them.”
Adrina stared at the man long and hard. Angry words pressed against her teeth, begging to lash out. She painfully swallowed them and lowered her eyes. They had to be desperate – or heartless – to ask a child to risk his life for a hyperdrive and every fiber of her being screamed at her to unleash her fear and anger on the cruel strangers; the threat of punishment should the customers report her insolence stayed her tongue. But the injustice of a child risking his life, to receive none of the rewards, cut deep.
Painful silence stretched between them.
“My name is Qui-Gon Jinn,” the man said at length. He gestured to his right, “And this is Padmé.”
Adrina regarded them carefully, completely disinclined to return the courtesy.
“This is my sister, Adrina,” Anakin supplied helpfully. “She doesn’t like me pod racing either. She says it’s too dangerous.”
Qui-Gon Jinn gave a little smile. “Your sister cares about you a great deal. It is an admirable quality. You are a fortunate young man to be loved so fiercely.”
Adrina’s eyes narrowed. Watto hollered at her from the courtyard, followed by a string of obscene words. Grabbing Ani by the wrist, Adrina squared her shoulders and marched away, throwing one last wary glance over her shoulder as she left with her brother safely in tow.
No, she didn’t trust that man one bit.
0
The mechanical hiss of the Skywalker’s front door masked the angry groan of Adrina’s stomach. All hunger was forgotten, however, when she looked up to find Qui-Gon Jinn and Padmé standing in the kitchen doorway with a strange lanky alien. Adrina pushed Anakin behind her, eying them coolly. Nothing seemed amiss, except the glaring fact that three strangers were in her home and her adopted mother was nowhere to be seen.
Adrina was just about to drag Anakin back outside when Shmi Skywalker popped her head around the corner, dish rag in hand. A smile blossomed on the older woman’s face when she caught sight of her two children. “Welcome home, you two,” Shmi greeted warmly. She stepped forward and embraced Adrina. “I was so worried about you, Rina. I didn’t know if you had been able to take shelter.”
“I’m alright,” Adrina assured. “I made it back to the shop before the storm got really bad.” Shmi sagged with relief. Adrina’s gaze flicked once again to Qui-Gon and Padmé and then back to Shmi.
“They are our guests here, until their ship is repaired,” Shmi murmured. “Qui-Gon is a Jedi Master, Rina. It’s alright.”
Adrina continued to watch the two, nearly protesting when Anakin took Padmé by the hand and led her back to his room. Shmi gently placed a hand on her daughter’s arm. Adrina’s brown eyes narrowed, catching sight of Qui-Gon’s lightsaber.
Adrina had heard tales of the Jedi since she was born – tales of interference, death, and destruction. Her father and people held no great love for the Jedi, but the pilots and smugglers brought tales of great deeds. Half of them were probably completely fabricated and the other half were probably mostly fabricated, but somewhere there was bound to be a grain of truth. The Jedi were said to be great warriors, wise and noble, that brought peace and order. The lightsaber was the Jedi hallmark, a formidable weapon of justice wielded only by the worthy. But Adrina knew the truth – it was just a weapon like any other, capable of protecting or destroying at its wielder’s will, and the Jedi were just people. She didn’t believe in the mystical Force any more than she believed there were actually people out there doing good things, expecting nothing in return.
But it didn’t matter who Qui-Gon was – Adrina didn’t trust him. Even supposedly honorable organizations had bad members.
“Come,” Shmi beckoned them towards the table. “You are just in time for dinner.” Shmi looked around and sighed. Adrina smiled slightly and shook her head.
“I’ll get Ani,” Adrina called over her shoulder, already on her way down the short hallway. She stuck her head into her brother’s room. Adrina bit back a laugh. Despite her distrust of the strangers, Padmé’s lost expression as Anakin gave a detailed diatribe about his latest project was amusing. Adrina rapped lightly on the doorframe. “Dinner time.”
Anakin’s shoulders drooped. He pouted, “But I’m showing Padmé all of my projects.”
“And they’ll still be here after dinner, I promise.”
Anakin looked at Padmé for assistance, but she only gave him an apologetic smile. “Alright, alright. We’re coming.” He brightened. “Oh, Rina, I forgot to show you this!” Adrina arched an eyebrow. Anakin bounced off his bed and began fidgeting with C-3P0.
Padmé rose and stood next to Adrina. “He’s a special little boy,” Padmé whispered. Adrina stiffened, but managed a small smile and nod.
Anakin motioned Adrina closer to his work bench. “You got some of 3P0’s covering!” Adrina grinned at Anakin and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. “That’s wonderful! I know you’ve been working hard on the protocol droid.”
“Here.” The cool gray metal slipped into Adrina’s hand. “Be careful, that edge is...” Anakin trailed off with a wince at Adrina’s sharp inhalation. She pressed the bleeding finger into her thigh and set the metal down with as much grace as she could muster. “Sharp,” Anakin finished lamely.
Padmé rushed forward. “Are you alright?”
Adrina managed to nod, still holding her finger tight against her thigh. Pink tinged her tawny cheeks, embarrassed that she would make such a stupid mistake, and in front of a stranger, no less; she knew better than to run her finger along a metal edge.
“Fine,” Adrina muttered. She smiled down at her brother. “That’s really cool, Ani. You just might want to keep it on 3P0.”
Ani nodded, biting his lower lip. “I’m really sorry, Rina.”
Adrina pulled him in for a hug. “It’s my fault. It’s okay.”
The three made their way out of Ani's room and to the dinner table. Adrina found herself sandwiched between Padmé and Qui-Gon. Doubtless it was her mother’s way of trying to coax Adrina into liking them – futile efforts.
Adrina’s finger throbbed, even several minutes later. To her dismay, a careful inspection revealed a far deeper cut than she initially realized. She had suffered worse, certainly, but it was still a nasty cut. Adrina wrapped her right hand around the offending finger, still hiding it in her lap. With no bacta available, it would take over a week to heal and her work gloves had disintegrated the month prior; Watto had yet to replace them. She would go through many bandages in the coming week - a terrible inconvenience.
A pale blue glow illuminated her lap. The pain disappeared with the cut. Adrina relaxed in her seat and took a bite of porridge.
Adrina did not notice Qui-Gon’s probing glance or dawn of realization.
0
After the meal, Jar Jar Binks took it upon himself to assist Adrina with her chores. Adrina had met people from almost every planet in the galaxy, but none had been as strange as Jar Jar Binks. For all that he was good natured, he was clumsy and dim-witted – and forever in the way. Still, at least there was no pretense about him. He was exactly what he seemed: a bumbling ootmian.
Despite not wanting the foreigner’s dubious help, she couldn’t let the opportunity pass through her fingertips. She looked up at Jar Jar with a smile as they cleared the table, “How did you come to meet Master Jinn?”
“He saved miya life!” Jar Jar exclaimed, eyes bugging and arms spreading wide. Adrina winced; he nearly smacked Shmi in the face in his blind enthusiasm. Shmi merely shook her head with an indulgent smile and continued on her way.
“Oh? He did?”
“Mhm!”
Words, at first confusing, tumbled out of Jar Jar’s mouth and he gesticulated wildly. Adrina could only stand rooted as Jar Jar’s grand tale became more clear. Exile, droid armies, life debts, fugitive queens, space battles – it was all so fantastical! Jar Jar concluded his epic with a fatigued flop into the nearest chair. Truth.
“We would not ask Anakin if there was another way.” Padmé’s words echoed in Adrina’s ears. Guilt reluctantly pricked at her. Adrina understood better than most the decisions desperate people were willing to make – decisions they would ordinarily abhor. And if what this Jar-Jar creature said was true, their guests were indeed very, very desperate. It did not excuse them – not by far – but perhaps despite their willingness to endanger Anakin, Qui-Gon Jinn and Padmé weren’t wholly evil.
But she still did not like them and she still despised their decision. Desperate or not, it was inexcusable. Anakin was a child.
Adrina’s thoughts dwelled on their guests as she continued cleaning around the hovel.
“The Force is unusually strong with him. That much is clear.” Qui-Gon Jinn’s soft voice made Adrina stop in her tracks. She pressed herself into the wall and strained to listen. “Who was his father?”
“There was no father,” Shmi said. “I carried him; I gave him birth.” Shmi paused. “I can’t explain what happened. Can you help him?”
Adrina frowned, waiting for Qui-Gon’s answer.
“I’m afraid not,” Qui-Gon said after an uncomfortable pause. Adrina hung her head. “Had he been born in the Republic, we would have identified him early and he would have become a Jedi, no doubt. But it’s too late for him now; he’s too old.”
Adrina rushed away, fighting off swelling conflicting emotions. She harbored no trust for Qui-Gon Jinn and she held strong reservations against the Jedi, but even a life among the Jedi was preferable to the life of a slave. Knowing that her precious, innocent brother could have had a chance at a wonderful and meaningful life away from Tatooine plunged a dagger straight into Adrina’s heart. Knowing that there was nothing to be done about it now twisted the dagger deeper. She desperately wished there was something Qui-Gon Jinn – or anyone – could do. Whatever their faults and her own misgivings, the Jedi could offer dear Ani a better life than what awaited him on Tatooine. Ani was special. He deserved a fair chance in the world.
“Adrina?” Shmi called from the doorway. Adrina turned around, hoping her tears weren’t visible. “He’s going to test the pod now.”
Adrina shared her mother’s agonized look. Nothing could be said that hadn’t already been said each time Watto enrolled Anakin in a podrace. Still, Adrina couldn’t help but murmur, “I’m afraid.”
Shmi took her adopted daughter’s hand in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. Together, they stood on the balcony overlooking the pod, wishing against hope that it would remain dormant. A few long moments later, the pod racer roared to life. Adrina clutched her mother’s hand, fighting back tears and blocking out the triumphant cheers erupting from the courtyard below.