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The planet was every bit as dry and dusty as I’d expected, the clothes of the locals so drab that even our ‘low-class’ garments looked out of place. We were outsiders, and everyone knew it. 

That was to be expected as well.

The heat, on the other hand, took me completely by surprise. I’d thought myself prepared, but apparently my natural environment was now air-conditioned staterooms, not worlds beaten down beneath the glare of twin suns.

I was, in fact, on Tatooine.

“What possessed people to settle this world, Master Jinn?”

“Please, call me Qui-gon,” the Jedi replied affably. “No need to advertise who we are.”

“Our clothes advertise us, Qui-gon,” I replied, voice dry as the sandy road we walked down.

“Perhaps,” he said. “As for your question, this planet rests on a profitable hyperspace lane, but is nonetheless outside the jurisdiction of the Republic.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Making it attractive for criminals.”

“Indeed, though it is to our advantage this time.”

“More likely, our presence will be all over the city in the next hour, making it trivial for the Federation’s bounty hunters to track us down,” I said, rubbing at my temples. I could feel a headache coming on.

I was never supposed to wind up here, after all.

“The queen entrusted us with your protection, did she not?” Qui-gon asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. “As long as my apprentice and I are here, we will allow no harm to befall you.” At his side, Obi-wan did his best to look reassuring.

I raised a brow. “I’m sure her majesty trusts you implicitly,” I said. “But I’m also sure she would prefer us all to be realistic about the threats we will face.”

I should know.

After being reborn as Padme Amidala, I’d done everything I could to avoid the queendom, and the political weight that came with it. I denied interest in rule at every turn, while doing my best to use my family’s influence to prepare Naboo for the storm I knew was coming.

But of course that was just the type of innocence and wisdom that the Naboo loved to see in their elected monarchs.

I’d won a term as queen in what could only be called the biggest landslide in recent memory. I’d almost expect Contessa of meddling, but that was neither here nor there. With an undisclosed amount of time until the shit hit the fan in this galaxy far, far away, I’d set out to move fast and break things.

But the Trade Federation had still come with their blockade and an offer I quite literally could not accept. All of my initiatives for increased militia and reserve armored units and anti-orbital defenses amounted to nothing more than a reputation for foresight…and the federation landing their tanks slightly farther away from Theed.

My allies, both local and imported, still held the Capital when I’d fled, but the ships and defense pacts I’d been promised vanished into the wind after a few whispers from the federation and a couple fistfuls of credits.

Ironically, that was the part that reminded me most of home.

“Master,” Obi-Wan said, drawing me out of my musings. “If we stand out then we should look for different attire.”

“Peace, young padawan,” Qui-gon said. “Sometimes speed is more important than stealth.”

I gave him a pat on the shoulder “You’d never blend in on a world like this, Obi.”

The kid frowned at me. Honest to god, it surprised me how young he was. Young Ewen McGregor was every bit as green as his appearance in the Phantom Menace suggested.

No doubt he had similar thoughts about me.

Qui-gon just chuckled in that smooth voice of his. “The young lady has a point,” he said, in that unmistakably Liam Neeson way. The resemblance was absurd. “In either case, we’ve arrived.”

I looked over the sandstone building, it’s curved exterior and bulbous second story. A battered metal sign in Huttese hung next to the doorway. My heart sank at the words, Watto’s Junkyard.

“Are we sure this is the place to start?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” Qui-gon replied. “Speed is more important than cleanliness as well.” To that I had no reply.

The inside of the shop was nostalgic.

I still half remembered what it looked like from the films. Seeing shelves half buried beneath hydrospanners and droid motivators drove home my situation more than the marble halls of Theed ever could. And there, in the middle of the room…

“Eh, whaddaya want here, eh?”

…was Watto. Just as ugly as I remembered.

The blue skinned Toydarian flapped over to us, beady eyes taking in the two Jedi and me. No Jar-jar, thankfully. He was back with the rest of the Gungans on Naboo.

It was the little things that made life worth living, when you were a fugitive from your home world fleeing the most powerful trade conglomerate in the galaxy.

“We’re looking for hyperdrive components,” Qui-gon said. “To repair our ship.”

“Hrrmm, I’ve gotta plenty to choose from,” Watto said, rubbing his fingers together. “If you can pay.”

“I’d like to see if you have the model we’re looking for,” Qui-gon said. “Then I’ll be more than happy to discuss payment.”

“A smart customer, eh,” Watto said, eyes glinting. He shouted over his shoulder in Huttese “Boy, get down here.”

I closed my eyes for a second as the sound of feet pattered down the stairs. A moment later, a young Anakin Skywalker jogged around the corner.

“Where were you?” Watto grunted.

“I was cleaning the fans!”

I held back a chuckle at the exchange. Anakin’s accent was awful.

“Watch the shop, eh? I’ve got some customers to help.”

Huttesse was one of the languages I ensured I knew, on top of the normal suite required for a member of the Royal House of Naboo.

Not Bocce, though.

I hated Bocce.

“I have the specifications. Obi-wan, Padme, feel free to remain here for the moment.”

Qui-gon caught my eye, and with a sigh, I nodded. It would be better to stay out of sight as much as possible, for what little it was worth now. I could hardly get mad at him for heeding my advice.

Anakin hopped up on the counter, and I decided to get the ball rolling.

“Hello there,” I said, placing my hands on my knees.

Anakin blinked up at me. He looked different from in the movies. Thin, almost painfully so, with big blue eyes blinking up at me in surprise. I could see how Padme got taken in by an expression like that. There was even a part of me that wanted to sigh and pull him into a hug for being so cute.

Of course, there was also a part of me that shot babies, so perhaps it balanced out.

“Are you an angel?” he asked.

I chuckled, ruffling his hair. “You’re cute,” I said. He pouted. “Watto… you belong to him, don’t you?”

Anakin glanced off to the side, shrugging in that way that said, ‘I don’t care but I totally care’ “Yeah, so?” Perhaps to some extent he even was okay with it. Slavery was the only life he’d ever known.

I sighed, giving his hair another ruffle. It was softer than I’d expect, though I guess he had his mother to thank for that. Still there wasn’t much I could say. I knew that Qui-gon would probably go to absurd lengths to free a potential Jedi, but how could I dangle something like that in front of a kid?

“Wait, a slave?” Obi-wan said, stepping forward. “Slavery is outlawed.”

“In the Republic,” I said. “Didn’t Qui-gon just say that this planet was beyond the Senate’s sphere of influence?”

Obi-wan frowned, nodding at my words. “It appears there are many things I’ve yet to learn,” he murmured. “And here I thought it was outlawed everywhere.”

“It should be,” I said, before turning to Anakin. “So, does Watto keep you here all the time?” I asked. “A place with this many spare parts lying around, you have to get up to something in your free time.”

Anakin opened his mouth, before glancing to the door, and back to me. I gave him a small smile, but he still looked a little hesitant. “Obi,” I said, “Guard the door, would you?”

For all that he’d probably been taught about as much subterfuge as I’d learned of lightsaber forms, Obi-wan caught my meaning quickly enough. With a smile he moved to the door leading to the junkyard, peering around it like some spy movie.

Anakin gave me a shy smile.

My answering grin was less manufactured than I’d intended.

“Well,” Anakin said. “I’ve been working on a droid. I still don’t have any of the casing, but the circuitry’s all done!”

“Impressive,” I said. “The sand must get everywhere though.”

“Yeah, I have to keep him inside mostly.”

I nodded. “What else?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. These were lessons I’d learned once in the protectorate, and again as a noble of Naboo. How to make someone invested in you, willing to spill their secrets for a smile. I didn’t like using them on a kid, but this was the best option.

Anakin glanced away, kicking his feet. “Well…I’ve done some other stuff, but I probably shouldn’t talk about it…”

“Don’t worry,” I said, pointing towards Obi-wan. “My henchman is guarding the door.”

“He’s not your henchman, he’s a Jedi!”

Obi-wan jumped, glancing over, but I just rolled with it. “You’ve got a good eye,” I said. “How about this, I’ll let you in on a secret of mine, and you’ll tell me what’s so special that you’ve been working on.”

He looked conflicted for a second, but then I leaned in, putting a hand next to my mouth. Almost unconsciously, Anakin tilted his head. “The man outside is a Jedi too, but he’s not just any Jedi, he’s a Jedi master.”

Anakin blinked, a look of wonder flashing across his face. “Woah, no way!”

Anakin grinned, and I knew I had him on my side.

“I built a pod-racer,” Anakin whispered. “The fastest one ever! I want to compete in the Boonta Eve classic, too.” I almost breathed a sigh of relief. I’d completely forgotten how the subject of letting a slave race against his master’s bet to pay for our parts came up when Padme wasn’t also me, but this would do for my purposes.

I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a type of swoop bike?”

Anakin shook his head, “Faster, I’m the only human in the galaxy who can fly one.”

“You must have some amazing reflexes.”

“Yeah!”

“What, like a Jedi?”

Anakin laughed, rubbing at his hands. “I wish I was a Jedi. I had a dream about it once.”

I patted him.

“Why won’t Watto let you enter the race?” I asked.

“He usually does, but this time Sebulba is racing.” At my blank look, Anakin added, “Sebulba is Watto’s favorite pod-racer. He always bets on him. Usually he wins, too.”

“Always bets on him, huh?” I said. “Do you think you could beat him?” From bits of memory and a lifetime of negotiation training, a plan began to take form.

Anakin opened his mouth, probably to blast off some casual ‘of course I can!’ line, but he must have seen something more serious in my eyes. He looked down, hands wringing at the fabric of his course shirt for a second, before laying them flat.

“I think I can,” he said. “I’ve beaten his times on the same course before,” he glanced away, “not that anyone will admit it.”

“Maybe you’ll get your chance,” I murmured. Anakin looked up sharply. I nodded at him.

“They’re on their way back,” Obi-wan said.

I glanced over at the door, before leaning on the counter next to Anakin. “So you’ve been pod-racing before? And won?” I started. Both the boys in the room look startled at my sudden change in demeanor, but it’s no matter. I had years of experience talking over people. “Why aren’t you gonna race in the Classic? I hear it’s the biggest event on Tatooine! Almost as big as the one’s back in the core worlds.”

“Stop bothering the customers, boy!” Watto growled as he and Qui-gon reentered the room.

“Sorry!” Anakin hopped off the counter, but I grabbed him by the shoulders. He froze. “Oh don’t be like that, Watto,” I say, affecting a vapid smile. “Why isn’t Ani racing in the classic, anyway?”

“Eh?” Watto grunts. “I’m not giving him a pod, that’s why,” he said. “What does it matter to you?”

“That’s a shame, I would bet on him if he raced…” I murmured, noting the gleam in Watto’s eye. “What about the parts?”

“Watto has the parts we need,” Qui-gon said. “We can pay in republic credits.”

“Republic credits, ha!” Watto laughed. “Gooda luck finding a place to spend those here!” He waved his hand dismissively. “But a wager? I might be willing to put a bet against my boy, if you can find him a pod, eh!”

I clapped my hands. “Oh that sounds like fun, he can use our pod-racer!” I turn to Qui-gon, “See? I told you dragging along my uncle’s old pod-racer would be worth it!”

Qui-gon glanced at me, tension written clear on his face. I went over, hugging his arm. “Go with it,” I whispered. Louder, I added. “Ani says he has the reflexes of a Jedi, so he must be good.”

“Oh yes,” Watto said, grinning, “Very good.” He coughs. “Not as good as Sebulba though! That’s why I didn’t want to put him in this one.”

“Pish,” I said. “I bet Anakin can beat this Sebulba.”

Watto rubbed his hands. “You have a deal, girl. Let’s talk stakes.”

“Just a moment,” Qui-gon said. “I like a good wager as well as the next man, but I’ve never heard of a human who could race pods…”

“No, no!” Watto waved his hands. “It’s all true, he has the results to prove it!”

Qui-gon hummed. “Well, would you mind if I gave him a quick medical test? Just to ensure he hasn’t been forced to take any illicit substances?”

Well that was heavy handed, I thought. Watto keyed in on it too, going by his glare. “Eh? Haven’t even agreed to a wager and you wanna be putting your hands all over my slave?”

“We’ll bet our ship,” I said with a grin. Pulling out my commlink, I quickly opened a hologram of the Nubian J-type 327. “It’s a pleasure liner, and if Qui-gon is happy with Anakin, then we’ll put it up as our side of the stake.”

Qui-gon glanced at me over Watto’s shoulder, I gave a small nod. Watto hemmed and hawed for a bit, at that, but once Qui-gon showed that his scanner was just a small blood tester he gave way. The master’s face was unreadable as he looked at the results of Anakin’s test, but the way that expression phased into an affable, and entirely fake smile, told me all I needed to know.

“That all seems well enough,” Qui-gon said. “Now, about that wager.”

“Yes…” Watto said, grinning. “I’d be willing to offer you generous stakes on a starship! 4 to one, no, 5 to one odds on Anakin.” Only years of training kept me from rolling my eyes. No doubt he was already thinking about how rich he’d be off of us.

“Oh, but I want to take Anakin touring the pod-racing circuit in the mid-rim,” I said, pouting.

“Quite a good idea,” Qui-gon said. “I’ve never been a fan of odds. It robs a betting man of the true thrill of the game, don’t you think?”

“Well, yess, ah…”

“Oh! Then we’ll bet the ship against Anakin and his family!” I said, with a happy go lucky grin.

Watto rallied at that. “Eh? No. No ship is worth two slaves, especially not a broken one!”

“Broken, why I!” I shook my head. “This is a Nubian J Three Twenty-Seven! It’s the same type of starship that’s used by the royal family of Naboo! You could sell it for a dozen slaves!”

“Not slaves lika my Anakin,” Watto said, placing a possessive hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Why iffa I got him the parts, he could build me one a those Nudians, eh! And his mother is just as valuable.”

I quirked my lips at that. I tried a few other attempts, but on this Watto wouldn’t budge. Here, at least, my foreknowledge was somewhat useful. No doubt he planned to pull a dice game on us if he lost and try to trade Anakin for his mother like he’d tried to in the film.

No bets on whether his ‘chance’ cube was loaded.

I sighed. I’d wanted to avoid this, but it looked like I didn’t have another choice. Up until now, I’d been employing my foreknowledge only sparingly, always hedging my bets, and all it had gotten me was the same place Amidala had already ended up. And we all knew how that story ended.

It was time to go all in.

“Well,” I said, shrugging. “If it’s not worth two slaves, then I’ll bet you a person and the ship for Anakin and his mother.” As the entire gaze of the room snapped to me, I added, “I’ll bet myself.”

God Save the Queen

Worm/Star Wars

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A/N: Because half the fun of the SI genre is the mess the protagonists makes with their ‘foreknowledge.’

 As a little bonus reward, here is the penultimate chapter that was originally planned for Ten Times. Hope you like it. Don't forget to read next weeks bonus chapter here as well!