Attack of the Clones (26 page)

“Here, Espasa,” Anakin said to the droid, and the rickshaw glided to a stop in front of a shop all too familiar to Anakin Skywalker. There, sitting on a stool near the door, fiddling with an electronic driver on a broken piece of equipment that looked like a droid component,
was a rounded, winged Toydarian with a long snout. A black round hat adorned his head, and a small vest was pulled as far as it would go about his girth. Anakin recognized him immediately.

He paused for so long in just staring at Watto that Padmé got out before him and held her hand to help him.

“Wait here,” she instructed the droid. “Please.”

“
No chuba da wanga, da wanga!
” Watto yelled at the broken component, and at a trio of pit droids who were scrambling all about, trying to help.

“Huttese,” Anakin explained to Padmé.

“No, not that one—that one!” she replied, and at Anakin’s expression of surprise that she knew the strange language, she added, “You think it’s easy being the Queen?”

Anakin shook his head and looked back to Watto, then glanced at Padmé once or twice as they neared. “
Chut chut, Watto,
” he greeted.

“
Ke booda?
” came the surprised response.

“
Di nova, chut chut,
” Anakin reiterated, his words barely audible above the clamoring pit droids.

“
Go ana bopa!
” Watto yelled at the trio, and on his command, they immediately shut down and snapped back into their storage position.

“
Ding mi chasa hopa,
” Anakin offered, taking the piece of the broken droid from Watto, and manipulating it expertly. Watto watched him for a moment, his buglike eyes growing even larger in surprise.

“
Ke booda?
” he asked. “
Yo baan pee hota. No wega mi condorta. Kin chasa du Jedi. No bata tu tu.
”

“He doesn’t know you,” Padmé whispered to Anakin, trying to hold back her laughter at Watto’s last statement, which translated to “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

“
Mi boska di Shmi Skywalker,
” Anakin bluntly stated.

Watto’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Who would be
looking for his old slave? The Toydarian’s gaze went from Anakin to Padmé, then back to Anakin.

“Annie?” he asked in Basic. “Little Annie? Naaah!”

Anakin’s answer came with a deft twist of his hands, and the sound of the little piece of equipment whirring to life. Smiling widely, he handed it back to Watto.

There weren’t many around who could work such magic on broken droid parts.

“You
are
Annie!” the Toydarian cried. “It
is
you!” His wings started beating furiously, lifting him from the stool to hover in the air. “Ya sure sprouted!”

“Hello, Watto.”

“Weehoo!” the Toydarian cried. “A Jedi! Waddya know? Hey, maybe you couldda help wit some dead-beats who owe me a lot of money—”

“My mother—” Anakin prompted.

“Oh yeah, Shmi. She’s not mine no more. I sold her.”

“Sold her?” Anakin felt Padmé squeeze his forearm.

“Years ago,” Watto explained. “Sorry, Annie, but you know, business is business. Sold her to a moisture farmer named Lars. Least I think it was Lars. Believe it or not, I heard he freed her and married her. Can ya beat that?”

Anakin just shook his head, trying hard to digest it all. “Do you know where they are?”

“Long way from here. Someplace over on the other side of Mos Eisley, I think.”

“Could you narrow it down?”

Watto thought about it for a moment, then just shrugged.

“I’d like to know,” Anakin said, his tone and expression grim and determined, even threatening. The way Watto’s features seemed to tighten showed that he got the hint that Anakin wasn’t fooling around.

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Absolutely. Let’s go look at my records.”

The three went into the shop, and seeing the place brought memories swirling back to Anakin. How many hours, years, he had toiled in here, fixing everything Watto threw his way. And out back, where he had put all the spare parts he could find, so that he could build a Podracer. Not all of the memories were bad, he had to admit, but the good ones did not overcome the reality that he had been a slave. Watto’s slave.

Fortunately for Watto, his records gave a location for the moisture farm of one Cliegg Lars.

“Stay a while, Annie,” the Toydarian offered after sharing the information on Shmi’s new owner—or was it her husband?

Without a word, Anakin turned about and walked away. This was the last time he would look at Watto and the shop, he decided. Unless of course, he found out that Watto was lying to him about Shmi’s fate, or that Watto had somehow hurt his mother.

“Back to the lot, Espasa,” he said to the droid as he and Padmé rushed back to the rickshaw. “Fast.”

“Ya sure I can’t get ya something to drink?” Watto called to them from the door of his shop, but they were already rushing away, kicking up dust in their wake.

“
Annie du Jedi,
” Watto remarked, and he waved both his hands dismissively at the departing rickshaw. “Waddya know.”

Anakin took the starship out even more furiously than he had brought it in, blasting away from the lot and nearly colliding with a small freighter as it maneuvered to put down. Calls of protest came into him from Mos Espa control, but he just switched off the comm and zoomed off across the city. Soon after, they passed over the race grounds where the younger Anakin had often raced in his Pods, but he barely glanced at it as he put the
ship out straight over the desert, heading for Mos Eisley. When that port came into view, he veered to the north and crossed past it, moving higher in the sky.

They spotted one moisture farm, and then another, and then the third, almost in a direct line from the city.

“That one,” Padmé said. Anakin nodded grimly, and brought the ship down on a bluff overlooking the homestead.

“I’m really going to see her again,” he breathed, shutting down the engines.

Padmé squeezed his arm and offered him a comforting smile.

“You don’t know what it’s like, to leave your mother like that,” he said.

“I leave my family all the time,” she replied. “But you’re right. It’s not the same. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a slave, Anakin.”

“It’s worse to know that your mother is one.”

Padmé nodded, conceding the point. “Stay with the ship, Artoo,” she instructed the droid, who beeped in reply.

The first form that came into view as they walked toward the homestead was that of a very thin droid, dull gray in color, with weatherbeaten metal coverings. Obviously in need of a good oil bath, he bent stiffly and worked on some sort of fence sensor. Then he rose with a jerky motion, seeing their approach. “Oh, hello,” he greeted. “How might I be of service? I am See—”

“Threepio?” Anakin said breathlessly, hardly believing his eyes.

“Oh my!” the droid exclaimed, and he began to shake violently. “Oh, my maker! Master Anakin! I knew you would return! I knew you would! And this must be Miss Padmé!”

“Hello, Threepio,” Padmé said.

“Oh, my circuits! I’m so pleased to see you both!”

“I’ve come to see my mother,” Anakin explained. The droid turned sharply up toward him, then seemed to shrink back.

“I think … I think,” C-3PO stuttered. “Perhaps we’d better go indoors.” He turned toward the homestead, motioning with his hand for the couple to follow.

Anakin and Padmé exchanged nervous glances. Anakin could not shake the feeling of doom that lingered long after the imagery of his nightmares had faded …

By the time they caught up to the droid, he was in the courtyard, shouting, “Master Cliegg! Master Owen! Might I present two important visitors?”

A young man and woman came rushing out of the house almost immediately, but slowed at the site of Padmé and Anakin.

“I’m Anakin Skywalker,” Anakin said at once.

“Anakin?” the man echoed, his eyes going wide. “Anakin!”

The woman at his side brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “Anakin the Jedi,” she whispered breathlessly.

“You know of me? Shmi Skywalker is my mother.”

“Mine, too,” said the man. “Not my real mom,” he added at Anakin’s obviously puzzled look, “but as real a mom as I’ve ever known.” He extended his hand. “Owen Lars. This is my girlfriend, Beru Whitesun.”

Beru nodded and said, “Hello.”

Padmé, after giving up on Anakin ever remembering to introduce her, came forward. “I’m Padmé.”

“I guess I’m your stepbrother,” Owen said, his eyes never leaving the young Jedi of whom he had heard so very much. “I had a feeling you might show up.”

“Is my mother here?”

“No, she’s not,” came a gruff answer from behind
Owen and Beru, from the shadows of the house door. All four turned to see a heavyset man glide out on a hoverchair. One of his legs was heavily bandaged, the other, missing, and Anakin knew at once that these were fairly recent wounds. His heart seemed to leap into his throat.

“Cliegg Lars,” the man said, moving in close and extending his hand. “Shmi is my wife. We should go inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

Anakin followed as if in a dream, a very horrible dream.

“It was just before dawn,” Cliegg was saying, gliding toward the table in the homestead kitchen with Owen beside him, while Beru peeled off to gather some food and drinks for the guests.

“They came out of nowhere,” Owen added.

“A band of Tusken Raiders,” Cliegg explained.

A sinking feeling nearly buckled Anakin’s knees and he slumped into a seat across from Owen. He’d had some experience with Tusken Raiders, but on a very limited basis. Once he had tended the wound of one gravely injured Raider, and when the Tusken’s friends showed up, they had let him go—something unheard of among the more civilized species of Tatooine. But still, despite that one anomaly, Anakin didn’t like hearing the name of Shmi spoken in the same breath as the grim words,
Tusken Raiders
.

“Your mother had gone out early, like she always did, to pick mushrooms that grow on the vaporators,” Cliegg explained. “From the tracks, she was about halfway home when they took her. Those Tuskens walk like men, but they’re vicious, mindless monsters.”

“We’d seen many signs that they were about,” Owen piped in. “She shouldn’t have gone out!”

“We can’t live huddled in fear!” Cliegg scolded, but he calmed at once and turned back to Anakin. “All signs
were that we’d chased the Tuskens away. We didn’t know how strong this raiding band was—stronger than anything any of us have ever seen. Thirty of us went out after Shmi. Four of us came back.”

He grimaced and rubbed his leg, and Anakin felt the man’s pain clearly.

“I’d still be out there, only … after I lost my leg …” Cliegg nearly broke down, and it struck Anakin how much the man loved Shmi.

“I just can’t ride anymore,” Cliegg went on. “Until I heal.”

The proud man drew in a deep breath and forcibly steadied himself, squaring his broad shoulders. “This isn’t the way I wanted to meet you, son,” he said. “This isn’t how your mother and I planned it. I don’t want to give up on her, but she’s been gone a month. There’s little hope she’s lasted this long.”

The words hit Anakin like a stinging slap, and he retreated from them, back into himself, back into the Force. He reached out, using his bond with his mother to try to somehow feel her presence in the Force.

Then he shot to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Owen asked.

“To find my mother,” came the grim reply.

“No, Anakin!” Padmé cried out, rising to grab his forearm.

“Your mother’s dead, Son,” the resigned Cliegg added. “Accept it.”

Anakin glowered at him, at them all. “I can feel her pain,” he said, his jaw clenched, teeth gritted. “Continuing pain. And I will find her.”

A moment of silence ensued, and then Owen offered, “Take my speeder bike.” He jumped up from his seat and strode by Anakin.

“I know she’s alive,” Anakin said, turning to face Padmé. “I
know
it.”

Padmé winced but said nothing, and she let go of Anakin’s arm as he moved to follow Owen.

“I wish he’d have come a bit earlier,” Cliegg lamented.

Padmé looked over at him, and at Beru, who was standing over the tearful man, hugging him.

Then, having no words to offer, Padmé turned and rushed out to join Anakin and Owen. By the time she caught up, Owen was heading back for the house and Anakin was standing near the speeder, staring out over the empty desert.

“You’re going to have to stay here,” Anakin said to her as she hurried to his side. “These are good people. You’ll be safe.”

“Anakin …”

“I know she’s alive,” he said, still staring out at the dunes.

Padmé hugged him tightly. “Find her,” she whispered.

“I won’t be long,” he promised. He straddled the speeder bike, kicked it to life, and rocketed away across the dunes.

W
hen the call beamed into the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, using scramble code 5 and in care of “the old folks home,” Mace Windu and Yoda knew that it was important. Extremely important.

They took the call in Yoda’s apartment, after Mace checked the corridor both ways, then pointedly closed the door.