It had been seven years, and I still couldn't process the scale of it.
With the planet Naboo already covering nearly a quarter of the sky, the Federation ship could be seen first as little more than a glimmer. But it grew quickly, very quickly. In a manner of seconds it was already a looming behemoth above us… and kept growing. The scale of these freighters - hastily converted into battleships - was staggering, each a carrier for tons of firepower and thousands of deployable droids, along with the relatively sparse living crews. The blockade included hundreds of them, and yet this was only a minor show of the Federation's strength.
While none of the other battleships were visible from my vantage, I could feel each of them. The steel and munitions barely registered relative to the proximity of the ship we were approaching and the overwhelming mass of the planet we were orbiting, but their souls sang loudly in the void, impossible to miss. I could understand why so many with my abilities prefered to stay planet-bound. Being surrounded by the energy of a world and its people was like a sort of warm bath, and leaving it was being plunged into the cold absence of space. Each life in orbit was its own dot of searing heat, taking in and expelling the Force in the rhythm of a giant's heart.
My Master activated the coms, his eyes not leaving mine. It was disturbing, how he always seemed to be looking within me rather than at me - and moreso because he genuinely was. "Captain," Qui-Gon began.
"Yes sir?" The words came with a spark of feeling from the ship's cockpit, separated from the cruiser's passenger compartment by sealed doors.
"Tell them we wish to board at once," he said, and removed his hand from the com button without waiting for a response. He turned back to me, "Where were you just now, young one?" he asked. It was a question I had heard from him many times.
"I was sensing those around us, Master," I replied simply. "I do not understand why the few… thousand… Federation lives aboard these ships are so much easier to sense than the half billion planetside." I returned his gaze coolly. "You have told me many times that for the Force, distance is an illusion."
"Yes, but it is a very persistent one." He gave me his trademark smile, that wry look with just a hint of upturned lips. "The arrival of our cruiser is surely the focus of the fleet right now, and so the distance between us and them is small, by the living Force." He tilted his head downward to emphasize his change in tone. "But that, my Padawan, is a lesson for another time. Be mindful of the present. Focus your energy on the negotiations to come."
I shook my head. "There will be no negotiations, Master. Only an attack. The Sith Lord will make sure of it."
"So you have said. But the future is not so clear as that, even for the greatest of seers. Keep your control, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon extended a hand to my shoulder. "As I have counseled you, the danger of prophecy is that it becomes self-fulfilling. Don't provoke an attack by expecting one. That way lies the Dark Side. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master." The cruiser had docked, and I stared at the descending door into the massive docking bay. I still couldn't get used to the size of even something so basic as a cargo area... a room as large as a full industrial warehouse.
I followed the tall, rangy form of my Master as he stepped down into the bay. I was not in the least surprised to find a protocol droid waiting for us. So far, things were happening as I remembered.
But hopefully, not for much longer. At my insistence - and after quite a bit of pleading, so much so that I think my Master mainly relented to get me to stop - we were dressed appropriately for senior bureaucrats from Coruscant, our braids and weapons both hidden, nothing visible identifying us with the Jedi Order. We were even able to get our ambassadorial credentials under assumed names, which I found out was surprisingly common among Republic dignitaries.
Without recalling the exact details, I had a feeling we would be recognized and attacked anyway. But it was important that I try. I remembered that the Nemoidians seeing the ambassadors were Jedi triggered the initial attack in canon. I wanted to see if a more nuanced approach was possible.
"I'm TC-14 at your service. This way, please." The droid was a shiney protocol model of the type that was frighteningly expensive to produce, relative to its value. She was as much a status symbol as any of the signs of wealth made visible by the plush conference room we were led to.
"We are greatly honored by your visit, Ambassadors," the droid began, standing near the entrance to the room after we entered.
"Thank you for your hospitality," I replied immediately. I noticed her head jerk upwards a bit in response. "You're a TC unit, you said? A Cybot droid?" If I could help it, I wasn't planning on letting her leave the room.
"Yes, Ambassador Labeth. Can I get you anything?"
"I'm okay. Master Rillian?" I asked, and Qui-Gon dismissed the question with a vague hand movement. His presence was expanding into the room a bit, as it often did in preparation for a confrontation or challenge. I returned my attention to the droid. "I was just curious. Do you have the advanced translation module?"
"Certainly. The TranLang III is what differentiates the TC series from our 3PO series predecessors."
"Oh? I thought the main difference was personality?" I asked the question with genuine curiosity. Qui-Gon glanced at me with barely restrained irritation, but didn't intervene.
"That is a common understanding, sir, but in fact our personality matrices are exactly the same as the 3PO models."
"Oh? How is it you've avoided the same reputation, then?"
"I don't know, sir. We certainly work hard to please." She paused for a second before turning back towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, I will bring my masters here to meet with you…"
But before the silver droid could leave the room, the doors opened to show the amphibian face and oversized hat of a Nemoidian. Two more Nemoidians stood just behind the first.
The garb of the first Nemoidian made his identity clear, even before the TC droid spoke. "His excellency, Viceroy Nute Gunray."
Fortunately this part, at least, we had been properly prepped for. I stepped back behind Qui-Gon, facing the three. Qui-Gon and I each spread our hands outward, palms up, then closed them into our chests and gave slight inclinations of our heads.
"Your excellency, may I present Special Ambassador Silmar Rillion, and under-Ambassador Aka Labeth." (Yes, indulged myself with a reference no one else would get.)
Gunray nodded. "Welcome to the Federation Trade Fleet. I hope your journey here was pleasant."
He took a seat, and as the Nemoidians to either side of him (whose names had not been offered us) also sat, we did the same. I noticed that my Master sat in a posture that would allow him to draw his lightsaber without any interference from the table or chair, and gave him full view of the only door.
"The journey was uneventful, thankfully," Qui-Gon said. His tone was smooth, even, as it usually was. I don't believe I'd ever heard him actually raise his voice, in what I'm sure was a deliberate display of constant control. "We are here on Chancellor Valorum's behalf, and through him on behalf of the Senate. Our question for you, and your Federation, is this…"
Qui-Gon leaned forward, and I felt his concentration focusing on the mind in front of him. I could feel the push as he said, "What will it take, to End This Blockade."
I looked on in anticipation as my Master's will pushed up against the Viceroy's… and my eagerness soured as it violently rebounded back on him. The only outward sign that the older Jedi gave to the effect was a slight slumping of his posture, but I could feel a roiling hatred, a burning searing pain enter his mind as his questing will was thrown back in his face. I had only ever seen the like in mental training between experienced knights.
And now that I had, however indirectly, felt the deep hatred strike out from the Nemoidian, I sensed it in him. Not on the surface, where fear and stress mixed seamlessly with the greed for power. But under it, nestled into a tight clump, somehow pushing outwards on everything else the viceroy did.
Was this the piece I couldn't remember? Was it the Nemoidian who was the Sith Lord, the source of the coming galactic war and the deaths of billions? No, it didn't fit. I remembered Gunray as a patsy, a poorly regarded distraction manipulated by the powers-that-be. A member of the Separatists later, yes, but never a part of the greater plan.
As Qui-Gon silently reeled from the backlash, Nute Gunray was responding to his question, seemingly oblivious to the psychic altercation he'd just had. No, the viceroy wasn't a Sith.
But he was being controlled by one. And that was a enough for me.
As Qui-Gon composed himself enough to respond at the end of the Viceroy's speech, I slid the blast pistol from under my tunic. The fourth shot was already echoing by the time my Master turned, surprise on his face.
We sat at a table, across from three corpses and a smoldering droid chassis.
"Ben, what -" he asked as I checked the charge on my weapon before replacing it. I met his gaze, completely calm.
"Master, you felt it more clearly than I did, I'm sure." I brought out a handheld device as I talked, thumbing my way to a map that would get us to an airlock. "It was as a told you… the Sith are responsible for all of this. The Viceroy was in their thrall. As long as he was in control, there was no possibility whatsoever of preventing an attack on the planet."
"Do you genuinely think that justified killing three -"
"Four, Master."
"Three lives, Ben. This is no time for your ridiculous 'droid rights' arguments." He shook his head. I could imagine how in shock he would be were he… well… almost any normal person. But, of course, he was a Jedi Master. There was no room for anger or distress in his mind. I could see him continuing to calm himself as we spoke.
"If we're going to salvage this, there can't be witnesses." I put a hand under TC-14 and tugged. "Too heavy for me. I can manage two of the Nemoidians if you can get the other and the droid." My Master's expression became even more strained; he made no move towards the bodies.
Just then, I heard the sound I had been waiting some minutes for, but hoping I had managed to avoid. A shrill hiss. Shaking my head sadly, I pulled my filtration mask out and put it in place, gesturing for Qui-Gon to do the same. No reason not to plan for something I remembered happening, even if the plan was to change it.
"The hard way it is, then," I muttered, as I drew my saber and hacked into the locked door.