DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
'Only in the peacefulness of calm can the road of life be traveled.'
Qui-Gon Jinn sat in one of the seats of the Republican cruiser that had
brought he and Obi-Wan to the outer rim planet of Naboo. The lights of the
room were dimmed to allow his descent into meditation with practiced ease.
The events of the last day left his mind a twirl of pain and worry. He sat
on his heels on the seat that was designed for this weird posture. A low
hum emanated from the man’s lips as he delved into his deepest area of inner
calm. Never in his forty-five seasons had he ever been asked to accept a
life-debt. Many of the Republic’s worlds had abolished the custom as being
too backward, awkward; but Qui-Gon knew it to be an honorable occurrence.
It made him uneasy, though, to be on the receiving end of the custom. It
was meant as a gift, a treasure, to be owed someone’s life, to be deemed
responsible for its existence. A tremor passed through him as he felt his
apprentice and the young queen approach his door.
A low chime was sounded and the door to the room slid back to show Obi-Wan in his uniform without his cloak and the queen in a blue pantsuit of loose material. Qui-Gon concluded his time of mediation with a quiet moment of supplication and calm before he stood and gestured to other chairs in the room. He placed his lightsabre back on his belt and sat down in the chair to face his apprentice and his new charge.
"So, Padawan?" Qui-Gon reclined slightly in his chair.
"The council knows of our situation and is awaiting our arrival on Corsucant in three days to hear the case and give their response. Until then,"
"Until then," Padme continued. "I am your indebted, Master."
Qui-Gon chuckled lowly before answering the woman with a smile. "Do not call me, master, young queen. I have not earned that right from you, and you have not earned that right from me." He sat back in the chair again to stroke his beard. "What age are you, Queen Amidala?"
Padme sighed and tilted her head back to look at Obi-Wan and then Qui-Gon. "I must ask you not to call me Queen now, sirs. My name is Padme and I am sixteen seasons."
"Sixteen?" Obi-Wan sighed. "So young."
"Old enough to rule, Obi-Wan." Padme answered, returning her gaze to the smaller Jedi. "My sister and I have been on the throne for four seasons."
Qui-Gon nodded. He knew of the young girls’ rise to the throne upon their father’s sudden and unexpected death in a piloting accident. "Your father was Brace Amidala, correct?"
Padme nodded the braid in her hair bobbing lightly. "Yes, he was. A Padawan to Mace Windu before his ascension to the throne."
"Your father was a Jedi?" Obi-Wan shook his head.
"He never completed his training for Knighthood due to his father and his elder brother’s death in a race. He returned to Naboo to rule." Padme turned to gaze at Qui-Gon. "A contemporary of yours if I remember correctly." At the man’s nod, she continued. "This is why my people know of your creed and code of conduct. My father raised all of us with the understanding of the Jedi. My youngest sister and myself were taught to use my father’s sabre…."
"Impossible." Obi-Wan breathed. "He could not…."
"Quiet, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon sighed. "It is acceptable to teach those that have a sensitivity to the force to protect themselves. Although it is generally not accepted that one that is not a Master can teach those others, it is not unheard of. Brace was right to teach those he could to protect themselves. That is why your aim was so direct, was it not, Padme? Practice with the seeker droid."
The girl nodded, keeping her head lowered. "Yes, hours and hours with the seeker as well as the remote."
"Well," Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair to study the girl. "Sabre practice as well. Interesting. At what age did he begin your training?"
"Three." Padme raised her eyes to the Jedi, and it was only then that he realized that she had tears in them. "Please, sir, can we discuss the matter at hand?"
Obi-Wan leaned towards the girl to give support, until her gaze stopped him in his place. "I do not need your support, Jedi."
Qui-Gon laid a hand on Obi-Wan’s arm and nodded his head toward the door. He could feel his apprentice’s confused and driven feelings toward the young girl. Obi-Wan nodded in understanding and left to go to the bridge. Once the door drifted shut on the younger man, Qui-Gon leaned forward to make painful eye contact with the girl. "You should remember the training about dealing with your feelings as well, Padme."
Padme sighed, standing to pace the small distance between the wall and the chair cluster. "I know my feelings, Qui-Gon, I know what they tell me now. Obi-Wan…."
"Obi-Wan is mindful of his training. His feelings are deep seated. He chooses which emotion will be his driving force and harnesses it…."
Padme’s eyes were shut. " Anger is to be released, aggression is to be dispersed, fear is to be abolished. Only hope, only peace, only calm." She continued for the Jedi Master. "I did listen to my father, Qui-Gon. And I listened well. Practice of this, however…."
Qui-Gon nodded simply, clasping his hands over his lap. "That you did, Padme. It is obvious that you took most of the teachings to heart." His large hand was warm as he grasped her arm. Padme stared as Qui-Gon search her eyes. "You fear Obi-Wan because of his age. He is the age of most of your suitors and this makes you uncomfortable. Face that fear, know that he will neither harm you, nor will he confront you. I feel sadness in you also." Qui-Gon was quiet as Padme opened her mind. "Good, Padme, you did learn well. Sadness of your loss of friends and at having to leave Naboo. T his is to be expected, feel the pain, and let it go." He released the girl’s arm slowly while continuing to study her gaze. "There is no fear of me in you."
"Why should there be, Master Jedi?" Padme crossed to the chair and regained her perch. "I know of you- my father spoke of you often. And I feel…" she stopped quickly and turned to the door.
"What is it that you feel, young Padme?"
"Amusement, confusion, uneasiness." Padme turned to Qui-Gon yet again, " You do not wish to have me indebted to you. And you wish to see my skills."
"Very good." Qui-Gon sighed as he sat back in the chair. "Yes, Padme, I do not wish to have you indebted to me. A Jedi is not supposed to accept a life-debt. And after your performance in the battle, I feel that you should not have to be indebted to anyone. I am confused as to the purpose of this turn of events, but I am trying to set the feeling aside. Amusement is from your spirit, Padme."
Padme nodded and sighed. "The loss of my throne, also, is a source of my sadness. What do you think the outcome of the council’s decision will be?"
"I have never known them to accept a life-debt placed upon a Jedi. My feeling is that they will not allow the term to stand, and you will be back to Naboo in half a lunar cycle. Obi-Wan and I will return you on our next mission."
Padme smiled slightly and lowered her eyes. "And as for the life-debt, Qui-Gon, whether it is owed, or not, I still must thank you for your action…"
"And I for yours. Your healing skills are quite well tuned."
Padme frowned lightly and stood to move toward him. "As for your shoulder, Jedi, how is it? Let me see the wound."
"It is fine, young one." Qui-Gon lowered his tunic neck to show the injured shoulder, reddened and sore, but in fine shape. She poked the surrounding muscle and nodded approvingly. As she moved toward the door, he stopped her with a strong voice. "Padme, you must be mindful of Obi-Wan and I, watch our actions. Observe and learn while you are with us. I feel this is your purpose here…to continue to learn. Pay heed to my warnings."
"Yes, Jedi." And with the swish of a door, Padme was gone.
Only the sweeping lights of the traffic outside the window broke the darkness of the apartment. Mace Windu stood gazing out of the wall of glass that separated the interior from the heavy Corsucant traffic. Behind him, the door to the chamber swept open to reveal a tiny creature of diminutive height and stature. As the being approached him, Mace sighed and spoke.
"The daughter of Amidala is with Qui-Gon now."
Yoda spoke firmly, yet quietly. "Yes, yes, begins a prophecy. Know not what is to happen, we do."
Mace nodded, crossing his arms across his chest. "A cloud has formed on the future at this crossing. None know its outcome. I only hope that Qui-Gon will be mindful that which he was told. We may still be able to avoid this."
"Constantly in motion it is, the future. Of his teachings mindful are Jinn. But know not we of the power of the heart."
Mace nodded, falling silent in the darkness.
The swish of the remote droid was the only sound that Padme could hear. Around her, the silence of the empty practice chamber was oppressive. Still, the girl stood at ready, unaffected by the overwhelming quiet. A dark brown hood of soft material hung over her head, obscuring her sight; the only part of her head visible was the long braid that hung down her back. In her small hands, she held a sabre, glowing green and bright in the soft light of the room. Her pose was relaxed, yet tense; the pose of a Jedi readying for battle.
To Padme, once her eyes were covered, it was as if she were back in the practice green of the Grand House with her father. His voice echoed in her head as she waited for the remote to begin. "Feel, Padme, do not think. See the remote with your feelings; know the future you will and how to react. Be calm, peaceful. Search for the knowledge of its actions in calm, and all will be revealed." She hummed lowly and felt the remote move silently to her left. A calmness of spirit was upon her and she felt her consciousness open. She herself was not grounded; she was one with the stars, the air, and the remote.
Outwardly, when the remote started its programmed run, Padme’s movements were fluid, timed and well placed. The arc of the glow from the sabre pierced the eyes of those watching her as she moved and placed the beam of the sabre to deflect bolts almost before the remote released them. Her return volley was powerful for a young girl.
Obi-Wan stood next to his mentor, his arms crossed over his chest. "Well practiced."
"Hmm." Qui-Gon moved his finger toward the remote a distance away and the droid switched its program. Padme adjusted immediately. "Yes, well-practiced." He nodded. "But good against the remote does not a Jedi make."
"Her father did not teach her to become a Jedi, though." Obi-Wan nodded toward Padme, visible through the glass. "He taught her to protect herself and her family. She was never intended to become a Jedi."
The elder man nodded silent in thought. "Still, if the girl has a high count of midi-chloridans, she should have been brought before the council when she was young. Brace was wrong to have hidden her talents."
"You knew her father, then."
"Yes." Qui-Gon nodded toward Padme. "He looked a lot like his daughter, small and lithe. Intelligent and driven. Loyal to a fault. But he had the makings of a fine Jedi before his return to Naboo." He nodded toward the droid to increase its level. "Probably drove his daughter to the brink of exhaustion in her studies…." The rest of his speech was cut off by the sound of remote fire hitting flesh. "Ma’ Chi!"
The remote droid silently dropped to the floor, its running lights dimmed. Padme sat on the ground, the head covering still in place, and the sabre darkened and lying at her side, still encased in her hand. Her leg was smoking slightly, a small hole in the leg of her pantsuit showing where the contact had taken place. She pulled the covering from her head to check her leg. A small amount of blood seeped from the wound. Her small hands pulled on her pant leg to pull it back to see the cut. She no more had time to begin to assess the damage before the door to the room slid open to reveal Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan hurrying into the room.
"It is not bad." She sighed, as they approached.
"Bad, or not," Obi-Wan approached the remote droid and checked its settings. "This droid should have been set on a lower level- stun or sting, not blood-letting."
"I always practiced with the highest contact setting, Obi-Wan." Padme pulled a piece of cloth from her pocket. "My father felt that it would increase my adherence to my learning if the stakes were raised. What is the final stage setting, Obi-Wan?"
"Level 15." He sighed, turning the complete droid off. "Two levels below Master."
"That is higher than normal." Padme nodded as her wound began to slow in its bleeding. The addition of syntha-flesh would not be needed. Qui-Gon knelt next to her leg and removed a small blood collector. He gently raised the leg to pinch the skin and remove fresh blood. She winced very slightly and glared at the Master. "Checking my blood, Qui-Gon? Fear that I have brought infection on your ship?"
Qui-Gon shook his head and crossed the room to place the blood sample in an apparatus in the wall. After a few seconds a loud beep was heard from the screen and a small printout was released into his hand. He glanced at the reading and at Padme, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Above normal, Obi-Wan."
The apprentice nodded and knelt next to Padme. "Do you need help?" he asked the girl. At her answer of the negative, he stood to look at his mentor. "How high above normal, Master?"
"Higher than yours, just slightly lower than my count." Qui-Gon bent at his waist to lift the girl to her legs. Padme shook her head at the support, but did not argue. She laughed gently and the conversation. "Why did you not ask me for my midi-chloridian reading level- I could have told you."
"I’m sure, Padme." Qui-Gon nodded toward the lightsabre. "That is not your father’s sabre. His blade was of a purplish hue, in tune with his aura." He plucked the instrument from the deck; turning it over in his hands he nodded toward Obi-Wan. "She built this."
Obi-Wan reached out to hold the sabre. The grip was lighter than his own was, small in its circumference as if made to fit a woman’s petite hand. There were markings of the Royal House of Naboo on the handle, pain-stakingly added by hand to the sword. A slight flick of his wrist brought forth a blade of green, which felt slightly wrong with his spirit, as did any sabre that was not attuned to his aura. The blade was smaller than usual, but sturdy. "So it is."
Padme sighed, sweeping her braid back on shoulder. "It was the final step that my father showed me before his death."
Qui-Gon smiled slightly at the aghast look in his apprentice’s face. Obi-Wan had just recently been shown the mechanisms of sabre building and fitting, as Qui-Gon had held back until later in his training for such knowledge. To know that a child of twelve had built and fitted a sabre was impressive, but not unheard of. Padme returned his smile with own of her own, as if the knowledge was passing from his mind to hers at Obi-Wan’s expense. "Do you wish me to show you my ability against another Jedi, Master Jedi?" she asked, bowing slightly as her training had ingrained in her.
Obi-Wan reached for his own sabre and had it ignited before Qui-Gon could answer in the negative. He nodded at her leg, seeping slightly with blood. "Not now, young Padme; you should allow your leg to recover first. Also, I am not allowed to train you. Having you practice against Obi-Wan is a breech in that protocol. Exhibiting your teaching is one thing; training is another. No, that is all that you should do for now."
Obi-Wan saluted Qui-Gon in a manner befitting an apprentice and flicked off his sabre. Padme retrieved her sabre and clipped it onto her belt with practiced ease. She bowed slightly and retreated toward the door that led to the hall. Both men watched her retreat with indifference. Once the door was shut, Obi-Wan turned to his master with a gleam in his eye. "I feel your wonderment, Master."
Qui-Gon shook his head slowly, his eyes moving to the droid. "Be mindful of the here and now, Padawan. My feelings are unimportant here. But yes, I am impressed with her training. For having ended it so long ago, she has retained and perfected many aspects. She was very young when her father died, and yet she has achieved a level of training that she should not have reached until her twentieth season. It is not unheard of, but then it is not common either." He nodded thoughtfully, and added with added gruffness. "Master Yoda and Mace will be interested in this turn of events, I am sure."
The lighting of Padme’s room was darkened as she sat still on the floor. Her head was lowered; her eyes shut. Her breathing was controlled and deep. The cut on her leg seeped slowly with blood as she meditated. The thoughts were empty and drifting, allowing the Force to lead her where it would. An image of her father’s face, young and strong moved in front of her vision. It was replaced quickly by that of Qui-Gon, his eyes flashing blue ice and a smile tugging at his lips. Her mother’s pained expression at her father’s death passed in front of her vision, as her mind pulled the an image of Obi-Wan to superimpose over her. A feeling of dread, of cold passed through her being and she released a tremulous breath.
Meditation had always come easy to Padme- An ease that was in direct contradiction with her passionate soul. But she knew of the need for a time of relaxation, for a drawing of strength. Her youthful face was slack with peace and beautiful. Her cheeks were still rounded in youth, glowing; her skin pure. A sheen was apparent in her dark chestnut hair, and her small, smooth hands lay unmoving on her lap. As she neared the end of her meditation, a short Naboodian prayer in the old language surfaced in her mind and she repeated it aloud.
Pa’me a unda trema ta mound’te abodea ma. A sap’re preou da m’ump.
Completed, she stood to move toward her bed and sat on the corner with gentleness. Her hand fell to her leg and she grimaced lightly. "By the Force, I hate when this happens." She swore softly, and she set to healing her wound.