Chapter 19: The Battle of Naboo, Part II

   CHAPTER 19: THE BATTLE OF NABOO II

   Lake Paagal, Naboo

   26:5:7945 CRC

The swamp water rises to Mace Windu's calves as he leads the way through the tangled undergrowth, his lightsaber humming in a steady violet pulse that cuts through the humid air. Quinlan Vos follows a few paces behind, his face drawn with exhaustion as death echoes through the Force from the ongoing battle ahead. Each droid destroyed sends a ripple of mechanical termination through his psychometric awareness, forcing him to press his palms against his temples to maintain focus. Paril Zannfel struggles through the knee-deep muck, his boots squelching as he keeps pace with the Jedi. The pilot's blaster feels alien in his hands compared to a ship's controls, but the loss of the Falcon has left him with little choice but to fight in this unfamiliar terrain.

Mace Windu's violet blade deflects three rapid blaster bolts from a B1 battle droid emerging from behind a twisted mangrove root. The purple energy carves through humid air as he advances, his boots finding purchase on submerged stones that mark an ancient Gungan footpath. Behind him, Quinlan Vos staggers as a wave of mechanical death crashes through the Force—an entire droid squad falling to Gungan plasma charges somewhere ahead. The psychometric echoes of their termination tear at his already frayed mental defenses.

"Droid patrol, three o'clock," Paril calls out, raising his blaster and firing two precise shots into the swamp water. Sparks erupt as his bolt catches a partially submerged droideka just as it begins deploying its twin blasters. The machine's targeting systems whir frantically before Quinlan's lightsaber severs its central processing unit, sending it toppling backward into the murky depths. The droideka's shield generator collapses with a metallic whine as Quinlan's blue blade pierces its core.

Mace Windu deflects a barrage of blaster bolts from three B1 units advancing through the hanging moss, his violet blade carving arcs that send red energy scattering into the swamp. The electromagnetic discharge from his lightsaber makes the humid air crackle as Quinlan Vos staggers behind him, pressing both palms against his temples. Every droid falling to Gungan plasma charges ahead sends fresh ripples of mechanical death through the Force, tearing at Quinlan's psychometric awareness like physical blows.

Paril Zannfel fires his blaster at a battle droid emerging from behind a cluster of mangrove roots. The machine's targeting systems whir as it attempts to compensate, but Quinlan Vos stumbles forward and severs its head with a precise downward stroke of his blue blade. The headless torso continues its firing sequence for three seconds before collapsing into the muck.

"Gungan lines should be just beyond this ridge," Mace Windu says, pointing toward an elevated section of swamp where the vegetation thins. His violet blade remains active as he deflects incoming fire from a droideka emerging from the hanging moss ahead. The machine's twin blasters unleash rapid-fire bursts that force Quinlan and Paril into cover. Paril's blaster bolts bounce harmlessly off its deflector shield. Mace Windu advances with relentless focus, his violet blade carving through the humid air as he calculates firing angles and shield weaknesses.

Then the Jedi Master suddenly accelerates.

Mace bursts forward through the barrage, his violet blade becoming a spinning wall of light. Blaster bolts ricochet harmlessly away as he closes the distance in seconds. The droideka attempts to compensate, its targeting systems tracking frantically, but Mace's lightsaber crashes through the edge of its shield and slices through both blaster arms. A second strike cleaves the destroyer droid in half. The machine explodes in a shower of sparks and twisted metal that rains into the swamp.

The firing stops.

For the first time in several minutes, only the sounds of insects, distant explosions, and the churn of swamp water fill the air.

Quinlan exhales shakily and lowers his blade. Beyond the thinning trees, flashes of blue and green plasma illuminate the horizon. The sounds are clearer now—Gungan war cries, droid blaster fire, and the unmistakable thunder of a large battle.

"We're close," Paril says.

Mace nods once.

The ancient Gungan path continues down the far side of the ridge, leading directly toward the battle.

Without another word, Mace Windu steps forward. Quinlan and Paril follow close behind, leaving the wrecked droids scattered across the swamp as they continue toward the Gungan lines.

   Theed Palace - Theed, Naboo

   26:5:7945 CRC

Captain Panaka presses a gloved hand against the blast door controls, his face grim as the mechanism engages with a heavy thud. Governor Bibble emerges from the rubble behind Captain Panaka, his ceremonial robes torn and blood streaming from a gash across his forehead. Behind him, three surviving palace staff and two security guards pick their way through the debris-strewn corridor, their faces drawn with shock and the harsh glare of emergency lighting. The group moves in silence, the only sounds their footsteps echoing off the stone walls and the distant rumble of artillery fire from the city above.

Padmé Naberrie stands before her people in the narrow corridor, her handmaiden disguise indistinguishable from those around her. The weight of her people's survival presses against her ribs as she processes Governor Bibble's words—Saché is dead, the eastern bunker destroyed, and half her staff gone. The carefully constructed illusion that has protected her identity for days has crumbled in an instant.

Padmé Naberrie removes her handmaiden's headpiece, letting her dark hair fall around her shoulders. Governor Bibble stares, his eyes widening as the stark white makeup remains only on the handmaidens behind her. "Governor," she says, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "Saché gave her life so that I might lead our people to safety. The decoy is dead. I am your Queen."

The corridor echoes with this declaration, but no one speaks. The emergency lighting casts everything in sharp angles—Governor Bibble's torn robes, the blood on his forehead, the handmaidens' pale faces. The smell of burnt metal and damp stone hangs thick in the air from the blast that took Saché.

Bibble blinks slowly, processing. "Your Majesty," he says finally, his voice raspy. "I... I didn't realize—"

"Saché and I trained for this," Padmé says. She touches his arm. "But we have to move. The shuttles are waiting, but we need to coordinate the evacuation."

Captain Panaka steps forward, his composure returning in increments. "We'll take the lower service tunnels. There are three blast doors between here and the hangar. I've already given clearance codes to the security team."

Governor Bibble looks at Padmé's face—the face he has seen a hundred times in council meetings, in public addresses—and something in his posture shifts. The shock and grief tighten into something more focused. He nods once, a formal, almost automatic gesture. "Of course, Your Majesty."

Padmé turns to Captain Panaka. "Jar Jar Binks is leading more of our people. They should be here soon. We wait for them, then we all go together."

Panaka checks his chrono. "We have a narrow window. The shuttles are prepped, but the Federation is advancing on the eastern gardens. If they secure the surface approaches before we lift off—"

"Boopjak! Daysa make boopjak," Jar Jar Binks voice carries down the corridor, his words in Gungan dialect but the urgency clear. The Gungan's voice echoes through the service tunnel as a group of fleeing civilians stumbles into view, led by Jar Jar Binks whose long ears twitch with every distant explosion. Behind him, a dozen palace staff members clutch their belongings, some still carrying ceremonial robes or data pads that seem absurdly precious in the face of total war. Sartili Vennitilini follows closely, her Jedi robes torn and stained with swamp mud from her earlier efforts to guide survivors through the chaos.

"Mesa thinkin' we gots-a big problem," Jar Jar says as he stops abruptly before the group, his large eyes widening when he sees Padmé standing without her decoy paint. His long fingers flutter nervously as he switches between Gungan and broken Basic. "Queen Amidala! Yousa still alive! But... mesa heard da big boom-boom. Was told yousa be gone-gone?"

Padmé steps forward, her voice calm despite the exhaustion lining her face. "I am alive, Jar Jar. But Saché is gone." The words hang in the narrow corridor as the Queen's voice carries the weight of her people's survival. The civilians behind her shift their weight, their movements creating soft rustling sounds against the stone walls.

Jar Jar's face contorts with grief and confusion, his long ears drooping as he processes the loss of someone who had shown him kindness when others turned away. "Ouchie-sa heart," he whispers in Gungan, pressing one large hand against his chest. "Saché be kind one. Shea make mesa feel like... like mesa belong." His voice cracks as he speaks, tears welling in his wide eyes.

Senator Palpatine maintains his measured pace, but his eyes constantly track Anakin's reactions to the environment. The tunnel opens into a wider chamber where conduits converge, their surfaces slick with condensation, and Panaka pauses to consult his data pad before gesturing toward a narrow passage. "This way. The hangar is two hundred meters ahead." The group moves forward as distant battle echoes through the stone

> Queen Amidala leads Anakin, Senator Palpatine and the others behind Captain Panaka.

Sartili Vennitilini steps beside Jar Jar, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. The Jedi Knight's face shows the exhaustion of hours spent guiding refugees through crumbling infrastructure, but her focus remains sharp. "We're taking the lower tunnels to the evacuation shuttles," Padmé says, her voice carrying the quiet authority that has guided Naboo through political crises and now through this unprecedented war. "Jar Jar, you know these corridors better than anyone. Lead our people safely."

Jar Jar's grief transforms into purpose as he nods vigorously, his long ears bouncing with the motion. "Yousa trustin' mesa? Mesa not let nobody get hurted again." He turns to the group of civilians, his voice rising to carry over the distant artillery fire. "Come-sa, everyone! Follow mesa to da secret ways!"

Governor Bibble exchanges a glance with Captain Panaka, both men recognizing the tactical advantage of using Jar Jar's intimate knowledge of the palace's hidden passages. The evacuation route winds through maintenance corridors that predate the modern palace structure, narrow spaces designed for repair access rather than human traffic.

Anakin Skywalker watches as the group begins moving. The boy's Force sensitivity makes him hyper-aware of the fear radiating from the civilians, the sharp edge of grief from Jar Jar and the other staff who knew Saché, as well as the cold he's felt since learning Qui-Gon Jinn was injured on the battlefield. Padmé catches Anakin's eye as the group begins moving. She knows he's felt something—a connection to his mother, perhaps, or possibly the injured Jedi Master.

Captain Panaka moves first, his blaster drawn but held low. The emergency lighting casts everything in long, distorted shadows that stretch along the walls. Behind him, Padmé walks beside Anakin, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder as if to anchor him to the present moment. The boy's Force sensitivity is raw and untrained, and she feels it like a static charge against her skin. When she asked him earlier if he felt something—some connection to the injured Jedi—the answer had been a simple "yes," but the intensity behind it made her wonder what exactly Anakin perceived.

Senator Palpatine walks just behind them, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he observes the evacuation with detached interest. He has already calculated the political implications of the assassination attempt on Saché—an attack on a sovereign monarch, not a political dispute. The Senate will be forced to act. Naboo's sovereignty has been directly challenged.

Padmé knows this. She has seen the same realization in Palpatine's eyes when they were briefed in the hidden bunker.

Captain Panaka stops at the first blast door, entering the access code with practiced efficiency. The mechanism engages with a heavy mechanical sound that echoes through the corridor. The door slides open to reveal the next section of tunnel, darker and narrower than the one before.

"Stay close," Padmé whispers to Anakin as they pass through. The boy nods but doesn't speak, his small hand gripping the edge of her sleeve. Senator Palpatine follows, his steps measured and precise. The maintenance tunnel narrows as they descend further beneath the palace foundations, forcing the group to walk in single file. Condensation drips from overhead pipes, the droplets mixing with dust that has settled undisturbed for decades. Captain Panaka pauses at a junction where three corridors meet, consulting a data pad that casts harsh blue light across his face.

"Route compromised," Panaka says quietly. "Droid patrol just swept the eastern access. We're going deeper."

Padmé follows him without question, her boots splashing through shallow puddles that reflect the emergency lighting like dark mirrors. Behind her, Anakin's breathing grows more labored as the tunnel angles downward. The boy's Force sensitivity makes him hyper-aware of the facility's vastness stretching beneath them—the hollow spaces where water flows, the groaning of structural supports under the weight of the battle raging above.

Senator Palpatine maintains his measured pace, but his eyes constantly track Anakin's reactions to the environment. The tunnel opens into a wider chamber where conduits converge, their surfaces slick with condensation, and Panaka pauses to consult his data pad before gesturing toward a narrow passage to their left. "This way. The hangar is two hundred meters ahead." The group moves forward, the weight of the moment pressing down as distant battle echoes through the stone. The dark corridor ahead offers no guarantee of safety, only the uncertain path to the evacuation shuttles, and the scene holds here as they press on toward whatever waits beyond the next blast door.

   Outskirks of Theed Palace - Theed, Naboo

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A trio of droid patrols advances through the palace gardens, their mechanical footsteps crushing flowerbeds that once bordered the royal promenade. B1 battle droids raise their blasters in synchronized patterns, scanning for movement among the marble columns and decorative fountains. Behind them, a B2 super battle droid moves with greater purpose, its heavier armor reflecting the harsh daylight as it coordinates the sweep.

Obi-Wan emerges from the facility's service entrance just as the lead patrol turns toward his position. His green lightsaber ignites instantly, the blade humming to life as blaster bolts streak past his head. He rolls behind a stone planter, feeling the impact of superheated energy as the projectiles score grooves in the marble. Through the Force, he can feel the boy's presence somewhere beneath the palace—Anakin's fear and confusion radiating like heat from a sun-scorched desert.

The super battle droid's twin blasters unleash rapid fire that chips stone from the planter's edge. Obi-Wan's lightsaber deflects the incoming fire with precise sweeps, each deflection sending sparks cascading across the garden path. The B2 super battle droid adjusts its targeting parameters, its heavier frame advancing steadily while the flanking B1 units attempt to outflank the Jedi's position. Behind them, a droideka emerges from behind a topiary hedge, its shield generator humming to life as it begins deploying its twin blaster cannons.

Obi-Wan Kenobi slides the green blade through the super battle droid's armored torso with a hiss of superheated metal. Sparks cascade across the marble path as the machine's twin blasters fall to the ground, their targeting systems still firing erratically into empty space. The B1 units attempt to retreat behind decorative hedges, but Obi-Wan's blade carves through their mechanical spines in swift, precise strokes.

The droideka's shield generator flickers as Obi-Wan deflects its rapid-fire barrage, each blaster bolt arcing away to scorch the palace walls. He advances with the controlled aggression his master always emphasized, the green blade spinning in defensive arcs that mirror Form III's defensive patterns. The droideka's twin cannons track his movement, but Obi-Wan's next strike pierces through its shield projector and severs both weapon arms in a single fluid motion.

Obi-Wan Kenobi raises his lightsaber as another droideka's shield generator begins powering up behind a marble fountain. The astro droid's dome rotates rapidly, scanning the garden for threats. Its blue-and-white chassis is covered in scratches and dents, suggesting it has survived multiple combat encounters before this battle.

The astromech's domed head swivels with mechanical precision, its photoreceptor lenses focusing on the carnage Obi-Wan has created. The droid's dome rotates with mechanical precision, its photoreceptor lenses focusing on the carnage Obi-Wan has created. The astromech's blue-and-white chassis bears fresh scorch marks from blaster fire, but its movements remain fluid and responsive.

"What are you doing here?" Obi-Wan asks, keeping his lightsaber active as he advances toward the small droid. The astromech responds with a series of rapid beeps and whistles, its domed head tilting slightly. Obi-Wan's brow furrows as he processes the astromech's urgent vocalizations, his lightsaber casting green light across the droid's scuffed surface. The machine's vocalizer emits a sequence of rapid chirps and whistles, accompanied by a holographic projection that flickers to life above its dome. The image shows a schematic of the palace's lower levels with multiple red markers indicating droid positions, along with a flashing waypoint near the evacuation tunnels.

"You're tracking the Queen's route," Obi-Wan realizes, lowering his blade slightly as the astromech's dome rotates with mechanical precision. The droid's photoreceptor lenses pulse with blue light as it confirms his understanding. "Your name is R2-D2 and you've been monitoring their progress through the tunnels."

The astromech emits a series of confirmatory beeps and whistles, its domed head tilting as it projects additional holographic data. The schematic expands to show real-time movement indicators—blue markers representing the Queen's convoy advancing through maintenance corridors, red markers showing Trade Federation patrols sweeping the upper levels. Obi-Wan's jaw tightens as he processes the tactical situation. The droid has been coordinating evacuation efforts from the shadows, using its access to palace systems to guide refugees through the chaos.

"How long have you been monitoring their progress, R2-D2?" Obi-Wan asks, his green blade casting dancing shadows across the marble garden path as another droideka's shield generator hums to life in the distance.

Obi-Wan Kenobi crouches beside R2-D2, the astromech's photoreceptor lenses pulsing with urgent blue light as its vocalizer emits a rapid-fire sequence of beeps and whistles. The droid's holographic projector flickers to life again, displaying a scrolling list of palace security protocols and evacuation codes. Obi-Wan's brow furrows as he processes the information, his green blade casting shadows across the marble path.

"The Queen is evacuating through the lower bunkers," Obi-Wan says, piecing together the data streams. "The bombing I heard... It was deadly and killed a decoy." His jaw tightens as the full scope of the Trade Federation's infiltration becomes clear. "And you're saying I need to hold the palace until reinforcements arrive?"

R2-D2 responds with an affirmative series of beeps, then projects a new hologram—a transmission timestamp from Coruscant showing four Jedi signatures en route to Naboo. Obi-Wan studies the flickering hologram, memorizing the names and arrival times as R2-D2's photoreceptor lenses pulse with mechanical urgency. "Two to three hours," he mutters, his jaw tightening. "And what about the droid forces currently advancing on the palace?"

The astromech responds with a tactical overlay showing red markers crawling through the garden approaches, their numbers increasing as more Federation units converge on the royal residence. A low, vibrating hum begins to build from the palace's eastern wing—the unmistakable whine of heavy weapons charging. Obi-Wan's head snaps toward the sound as plasma fire erupts from the upper balconies, the superheated bolts scoring gouges in the marble facade.

Obi-Wan Kenobi's lightsaber extinguishes with a sharp hiss as he processes the tactical nightmare R2-D2 has revealed. The astromech's holographic display continues scrolling through casualty reports and structural damage assessments, each data point painting a grimmer picture of the palace's defensibility. Above them, the marble columns that once symbolized Naboo's enduring stability now provide cover for Trade Federation snipers who rain plasma fire down into the gardens.

"You've been remarkable, R2-D2," Obi-Wan says, his voice carrying genuine gratitude despite the chaos surrounding them. "But I can't hold this position alone. The palace is too exposed, and my master's blood is still fresh on these wall." He gestures toward the service entrance where Qui-Gon's life essence fades from the Force, leaving a hollow ache in Obi-Wan's chest. "Go and hide somewhere safe… I'll be back when all this is over. Go find a hiding spot and stay out of sight."

R2-D2's dome rotates with a low whir, its photoreceptor lens focusing on Obi-Wan's face. The droid emits a soft, descending series of beeps, then retracts its holographic projector. It gives one final, almost hesitant whistle before rolling backwards, its three-wheeled base maneuvering smoothly over the cracked marble. It disappears behind a collapsed section of decorative latticework, the sound of its motivator fading into the din of distant blaster fire.

Obi-Wan watches it go, then turns his attention to the eastern wing. The heavy whine of charging weapons has stopped, replaced by the methodical thud of droid footsteps advancing through the lower galleries. He ignites the green blade again and moves toward the nearest archway, his boots silent on the polished stone.

Inside, the grand gallery is a ruin. Smashed display cases litter the floor, their contents—historical artifacts, diplomatic gifts—scattered and trampled. Obi-Wan Kenobi presses his back against a marble column as blaster fire erupts from the far end of the gallery. Red bolts scorch past his head, leaving burn marks on an ancient tapestry depicting Naboo's unification wars. He counts three B1 battle droids advancing in staggered formation, their mechanical joints clicking against the polished stone floor. The lead droid raises its blaster, targeting the column's edge with lethal accuracy.

"Roger roger," it announces in its flat, monotonous voice. "Target acquired. Eliminating Jedi threat."

Obi-Wan Kenobi's green blade carves through the lead battle droid's torso with a sharp hiss of superheated metal, sending sparks cascading across the marble floor. The machine's upper half slides to the ground with a clatter of twisted components while its severed legs continue firing blindly into the ceiling. The remaining two B1 units immediately pivot toward their fallen comrade, their mechanical joints emitting sharp clicks as they adjust targeting parameters.

More battle droids were already moving through the palace, their footsteps echoing from distant corridors. Obi-Wan Kenobi took a final look down the ruined gallery, then advanced toward the growing sounds of combat, green lightsaber held ready. Reinforcements were still hours away, the Queen's fate remained uncertain, and the Trade Federation continued its assault on Theed. For now, there was only the mission before him. He moved on.

   Theed Palace - Theed, Naboo

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Qui-Gon Jinn blinks slowly as the medical droid approaches through the plasma facility's emergency lighting. His vision swims between moments of clarity and darkness, each breath coming slower than the last. The FX-7 medical assistant droid's photoreceptor lenses pulse blue as it analyzes Qui-Gon's vital signs. Its manipulator arms extend with clinical precision, deploying diagnostic scanners that emit soft hums against the ambient noise of the facility. Blood continues seeping from the cauterized stump where Qui-Gon's right arm once attached, forming a dark pool that reflects the emergency lighting above.

"Patient exhibits critical blood loss and systemic shock," the droid announces in its modulated voice. "Immediate surgical intervention required. Attempting to stabilize." The medical droid's instruments begin working over Qui-Gon's body, but the electromagnetic field from the plasma columns interferes with its delicate instruments. Warning lights flicker across its torso as several diagnostic tools fail to complete their readings.

The FX-7 medical droid's manipulator arms twitch as electromagnetic interference from the plasma columns disrupts its delicate instruments. Qui-Gon's breathing grows more labored as the droid attempts to apply pressure bandages to his severed shoulder, but the facility's power fluctuations cause its automated systems to stutter between active and standby modes. Blood seeps through the makeshift dressings faster than the droid's limited medical supplies can manage.

"Patient condition deteriorating," the droid announces, its vocalizer crackling with static. "Electromagnetic interference affecting surgical precision. Recommend immediate evacuation to full medical facility."

Qui-Gon's vision narrows to a pinprick of light as his heart hammers against his ribs, each beat weaker than the last. The droid's metallic voice sounds distant, its words blurring together like static. He can feel his life force ebbing away, the Living Force pulling him toward whatever lies beyond. Through the haze of pain and blood loss, he catches fragments of Obi-Wan's voice in his memory—his promise to return with Anakin, the desperate hope in his tone.

Qui-Gon Jinn blinks slowly as the medical droid approaches through the plasma facility's emergency lighting. His vision swims between moments of clarity and darkness, each breath coming slower than the last. The FX-7 medical assistant droid's photoreceptor lenses pulse blue as it analyzes Qui-Gon's vital signs. Its manipulator arms extend with clinical precision, deploying diagnostic scanners that emit soft hums against the ambient noise of the facility. Blood continues seeping from the cauterized stump where Qui-Gon's right arm once attached, forming a dark pool that reflects the emergency lighting above.

"Patient exhibits critical blood loss and systemic shock," the droid announces in its modulated voice. "Immediate surgical intervention required. Attempting to stabilize." The medical droid's instruments begin working over Qui-Gon's body, but the electromagnetic field from the plasma columns interferes with its delicate instruments.

Qui-Gon Jinn's jaw clenches as the medical droid's instruments spark against the electromagnetic interference, sending small shocks through his already traumatized body. Each pulse from the plasma columns above makes his vision blur and his heart skip beats. He can feel his life force ebbing, the Living Force pulling him toward whatever lies beyond. Through the haze of pain, fragments of Obi-Wan's voice return to him—the promise to protect Anakin, the desperate hope that the boy might become what the Jedi Order needs.

The FX-7 medical droid's vocalizer crackles with static as it attempts to adjust its surgical parameters. "Electromagnetic interference exceeding safety protocols. Patient's neural responses weakening. Recommend immediate transport to medical facility." Its manipulator arms twitch as power surges through the facility's grid, nearly puncturing Qui-Gon's lung with a surgical probe. The plasma columns pulse with increasing intensity as the facility's power grid struggles to compensate for battle damage above. Qui-Gon feels each electromagnetic surge through his remaining nerves, the pain spreading from his severed shoulder down through his left arm. His breathing becomes increasingly shallow as his body shuts down non-essential systems to keep blood flowing to his brain.

The medical droid's photoreceptor lenses flicker as its own systems begin failing under the electromagnetic assault. "Critical system failure imminent," it announces in a voice distorted by interference. "Manual intervention required." Its manipulator arms lock up mid-procedure, leaving a surgical probe embedded in Qui-Gon's chest cavity where it threatens to puncture his lung. His left hand finds the droid's wrist joint, applying pressure to extract the probe.

> Qui-Gon Jinn attunes himself in the Living Force to aid the medical assistant droid in it's attempt to stabilize his own physical condition as he uses his remaining hand to aid the extraction of the probe.

Qui-Gon Jinn closes his eyes and draws his breathing into a slow, deliberate rhythm, letting the Living Force flow through his body like water finding its natural course. The electromagnetic interference that has been disrupting the medical droid's systems begins to recede as his Force-enhanced awareness creates a pocket of calm around his wounded form. His left hand grips the surgical probe embedded in his chest, applying steady pressure as he guides the droid's failing manipulator arm with precise, measured movements.

The FX-7 medical assistant's systems stabilize under Qui-Gon's influence, its photoreceptor lenses glowing steadily as its surgical instruments regain function. "Electromagnetic interference reduced to acceptable parameters," the droid announces, its vocalizer no longer crackling with static. "Proceeding with emergency stabilization protocol." The probe slides free from Qui-Gon's chest cavity with minimal additional damage, and the droid immediately begins sealing the wound with rapid-pulse cauterization.

Qui-Gon's breathing steadies as the cauterization seals his chest wound, the searing pain transforming into a dull ache that his Force-trained mind pushes to the periphery of awareness. The medical droid's instruments work methodically, applying clotting agents and pressure bandages to the stump where his right arm once attached. Each movement sends fresh waves of pain through his body, but he maintains his connection to the Living Force, using it to regulate his heart rate and blood pressure.

The FX-7's photoreceptor lenses pulse with renewed focus as its systems shift focus to his shoulder wound. Under Qui-Gon's Force-enhanced influence, the droid deploys a Bacta injector directly into the shoulder wound. The soothing gel immediately begins to knit torn tissue together and stop the bleeding. Qui-Gon's breathing evens out as the medication from the surgical probe takes effect, though his face remains pale beneath the facility's harsh lighting.

"Vital signs stabilizing," the droid announces, its vocalizer clear now that the electromagnetic interference has receded. "Blood loss reduced to manageable levels. Patient requires immediate transport to full surgical facility for amputation site closure and internal damage assessment." The droid's photoreceptor lenses pulse as it monitors Qui-Gon's cardiac rhythm, which has begun returning to normal parameters.

The FX-7 medical droid's manipulator arms continue their methodical work, applying clotting agents and pressure bandages to the stump where Qui-Gon's right arm once attached. The cauterized wound sears with sharp pain that pulses in time with his heartbeat, but the Force-enhanced calm he's cultivated keeps his breathing steady. Blood seeps through the initial dressings faster than the droid's limited supplies can manage, creating fresh crimson stains on the facility's grating as the medical assistant droid continues working to save the Jedi Master's life.

Lucrehulk-Class Battleship Above Theed

26:5:7945 CRC

Trade Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray's three-fingered hands shake as he paces the command deck, his ceremonial robes rustling against the metallic floor. The holographic tactical display shows red markers advancing through Theed's eastern districts, but the blue markers representing Gungan forces have begun appearing in unexpected locations throughout the city. His advisor Rune Haako watches from the communications console, his thin lips pressed into a tight line as casualty reports scroll across his datapad.

"Sir, the assassination… we hit a decoy," Rune says quietly, his voice carrying the flat cadence of someone delivering bad news to a superior. "The real Queen Amidala is still alive. Our intelligence confirms she's evacuating with Senator Palpatine and the boy." Gunray's three-fingered hands tighten into fists as he processes this information. The Sith Lord had promised complete elimination of the Naboo leadership with today's actions, yet here they were, still breathing and potentially rallying resistance.

The holographic display shows Trade Federation forces pressing deeper into Theed's eastern districts, but the tactical situation deteriorates with every passing minute. A young Jedi is slicing through droid formations near the palace gardens, and Gungan plasma charges detonate in the city's industrial sector, forcing Federation units to redeploy. Gunray's advisor Haako approaches the command console with fresh intelligence scrolling across his datapad. "We have intelligence about the Queen's departure," Rune says, his voice quiet. "She's heading for the evacuation shuttles in the western hangar." The reality of what he was saying hung in the air — that there would soon be a second opportunity to assassinate Queen Amidala if they moved quickly.

   The Great Plains of Naboo - Naboo

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The Gungan Grand Army moves with surprising coordination across the Great Plains, their amphibious bodies moving through the tall grass like water through reeds. Depa Billaba lands on the Great Plains of Naboo with the Jedi Order backup containing a group of Jedi Knights and a wide array medical and utility Droid resources to back up the Jedi group as they immediately attempt to turn the tide on the last battlefront the Trade Federation had the advantage in.

The Gungan Grand Army moves with surprising coordination across the Great Plains, their amphibious bodies moving through the tall grass like water through reeds. Depa Billaba steps from the transport's shadow, her green lightsaber already igniting as it hums to life in her hand. Behind her, Luminara Unduli and Sar Labooda emerge from the medical transport alongside Tera Sinube, whose prosthetic legs click softly against the landing struts as he surveys the battlefield.

Captain Roos Tarpals approaches the Jedi delegation with his spear raised in greeting, his long ears twitching as distant explosions echo across the plains. Luminara Unduli's blue blade carves through the tall grass as she deflects incoming blaster fire from a Trade Federation patrol advancing across the eastern ridge. The Jedi Knights form a loose perimeter around the Gungan medics who work frantically to tend to wounded soldiers, their amphibious bodies bleeding green ichor from plasma wounds. Sar Labooda's double-bladed lightsaber spins in defensive arcs as she protects a group of wounded Gungans, her inexperience showing in the slight overcompensation of her movements.

Tera Sinube moves with deceptive speed for his age, his green blade a blur as he dismantles a squad of B1 battle droids with precise strikes to their processing units. The old Cosian's prosthetic legs find purchase on the uneven terrain as he coordinates with the Gungan officers, his tactical experience evident in every calculated movement. Depa Billaba surveys the battlefield with sharp blue eyes, her green blade casting shadows across the tall grass as Trade Federation artillery begins raining superheated bolts across the plains. The Jedi Master signals to Luminara Unduli, who immediately coordinates with a squad of Gungan medics evacuating wounded soldiers toward the medical transports. Sar Labooda's double-bladed lightsaber carves through the air in defensive arcs as she covers their retreat, though her movements betray the exhaustion of someone fighting beyond their experience level.

Captain Roos Tarpals approaches the Jedi delegation with urgent speed, his long ears twitching as another barrage of plasma fire detonates across the eastern ridge. "Mesa needin' help with da big machines," he calls in Gungan Basic, gesturing toward the distant hills where Trade Federation AAT tanks emerge from behind rocky outcroppings. "Dey shootin' da booma at mesa people!"

Depa Billaba raises her lightsaber high, the green blade slicing through the smoke and chaos as she surveys the battlefield. The Great Plains stretch in all directions, a vast expanse of tall grass now trampled by marching boots and scorched by blaster fire. Trade Federation AAT tanks rumble across the eastern ridge, their twin cannons swiveling to track movement below. Behind them, waves of battle droids advance in perfect synchronization, their mechanical footsteps creating a rhythmic thunder that drowns out the Gungan war cries.

"Luminara, take point on the left flank," Depa commands, her voice carrying authority over the din of battle. "Sar, coordinate with the Gungan medics—we need to establish a secure evacuation corridor. Tera, find me a vantage point where you can observe their artillery positions."

Luminara Unduli nods and moves with fluid grace, her blue blade carving defensive arcs as she deflects incoming fire. The Gungan Grand Army surges forward in response to the Jedi's arrival, their amphibious soldiers emerging from the tall grass with plasma charges already glowing in their webbed hands. Captain Roos Tarpals raises his spear high, his long ears twitching as he coordinates with Depa Billaba through urgent hand signals. The Trade Federation tanks respond by rotating their turrets toward the new threats, superheated bolts tearing through the vegetation as they open fire.

Tera Sinube's prosthetic legs carry him with deceptive speed across the uneven terrain as he ascends a rocky outcropping. From this vantage point, he can see the full scope of the Federation's tactical disposition—three AAT tanks forming a triangular formation, supported by a dozen droideka units establishing defensive positions. The old Cosian's green blade remains extinguished as he calculates firing solutions and identifies weaknesses in their crossfire patterns.

> Tera Sinube says, "Master Billaba, their left flank is overextended. If we can draw their fire and maneuver around that ridge..." 

His words are punctuated by the distant thud of plasma impacts as Gungan booma charges detonate against droid armor.

Sar Labooda coordinates with the Gungan medics as promised, her double-bladed lightsaber spinning in defensive arcs that protect the evacuation corridor. The medics work quickly, their amphibious fingers moving with surprising dexterity as they apply bacta patches and stabilize wounded soldiers who had been waiting too long for treatment. Sar's breathing comes harder than she'd like to admit, but her commitment to duty outweighs the exhaustion in her limbs. She notices Tera Sinube descending from his vantage point, his prosthetics leaving shallow impressions in the soft earth.

Captain Roos Tarpals moves his forces into the gap Tera Sinube identified. The Gungan soldiers flow through the tall grass with amphibious grace, their plasma charges glowing brighter as they close the distance. The leftmost AAT tank swivels its turret, but the angle is wrong—the ridge blocks a clean shot at the advancing infantry.

Depa Billaba's green blade flashes once, a signal. Luminara Unduli breaks from her defensive position, a blur of blue and brown as she sprints along the exposed flank. Blaster fire from the droid lines streaks toward her, but each bolt meets her spinning blade and deflects harmlessly into the dirt. She is not attacking; she is a distraction.

The tank commander—a battle droid welded into the command seat—prioritizes the Jedi Knight. The twin cannons roar, superheated plasma carving black scars across the plains. Luminara's defensive rotation deflects the first shot, but the cannon's second bolt catches her shoulder pauldron and sends her tumbling through the tall grass. She rolls and springs to her feet in one fluid motion, her blue blade snapping back into a defensive guard as the tank's targeting systems struggle to reacquire her position. Behind her, Gungan soldiers surge up the ridge with plasma charges already glowing in their webbed hands.

Captain Roos Tarpals raises his spear as his forces reach the tank's blind spot. "Now-sa! Da big boom-boom!" The Gungans launch their charges in synchronized arcs that clear the tank's hull and detonate against its rear armor plating. The explosion tears through the engine compartment, sending superheated metal shrieking across the plains as the AAT's twin cannons go silent.

Depa Billaba seizes the moment of confusion among the droid lines. "Luminara, press the advantage!" Luminara Unduli sprints through the smoke as the destroyed tank's ammunition cooks off, sending secondary explosions rippling across the ridge. Her blue blade carves through the first droideka's shield generator with practiced precision, the machine's defensive systems overloading and collapsing inward. Sar Labooda follows her momentum, double-bladed weapon spinning in lethal arcs that dismantle the remaining droid positions while Gungan soldiers pour over the embankment with war cries that echo across the plains.

The second AAT's turret tracks Luminara's advance, but the Gungans have already closed the distance. Captain Tarpals' flanking force strikes from the ridge, plasma charges detonating against the tank's rear armor as the third AAT pivots too late. Sar's blade carves through its treads, and the last tank grinds to a halt. The remaining droidekas fall to Luminara's blade. Without armor support, the droid lines fracture. The Gungan Grand Army surges through the gap, and the Trade Federation's retreat begins across the plains.

   Lucrehulk-Class Battleship Above Theed

   26:5:7945 CRC

Viceroy Gunray watched as control of Naboo's Great Plains shifted to the Gungan alliance. A third of his droid army now lay destroyed. The tactical display showed red markers retreating across the eastern sector, pursued by the blue icons of advancing Gungan forces. Rune Haako's datapad continues scrolling casualty reports as the tactical situation worsens. "Sir, the Gungan forces are pressing their advantage. We're losing contact with three additional droid battalions." The Neimoidian advisor's thin fingers tremble as he processes the data streams. "The droid army's retreat is becoming disorganized. Command and control systems are failing across multiple sectors."

Gunray's three-fingered hands clutch the command console so tightly that his knuckles turn white beneath his pale skin. "The Queen," he whispers, his voice cracking with desperation. "We must eliminate the Queen before she can rally more resistance. Have you gotten an update on her evacuation shuttle?" Rune Haako's fingers dance across the communications console as he pulls up the latest intelligence from palace surveillance. "The Queen's convoy has reached the western hangar bay, sir. Our forces are in position to intercept." His voice carries the flat tone of someone reading a death sentence, his thin lips pressed together. "We have to act now, Viceroy. If we lose control of the capital, it's all over."

   Theed Palace - Theed, Naboo

   26:5:7945 CRC

The evacuation shuttle's ramp hisses downward as Captain Panaka leads Senator Palpatine and Anakin Skywalker aboard, while Queen Amidala—still disguised as a handmaiden—follows close behind. The hangar's emergency lighting casts everything in harsh red as blast doors begin their slow descent. Anakin presses himself into a maintenance alcove, his small frame hidden behind a conduit housing as the battle erupts around him.

Outside the shuttle, the hangar becomes a warzone. B1 battle droids pour through emergency access points while super battle droids advance across the main deck, their twin blasters cutting through the chaos. Queen Amidala crouches behind a fallen equipment cart, her handmaiden tunic torn and scorched. Senator Palpatine presses against the shuttle's hull, scanning for threats.

"Stay low, Anakin!" the Queen calls out, her voice nearly drowned by the mechanical chatter of droids. Captain Panaka returns fire from behind a cargo container, his blaster bolts scoring metal. The shuttle's pilot shouts over the din. "The Lucrehulk has a targeting lock on us! They'll blow us out of the sky the moment we launch!"

Anakin watches from his alcove as the Queen crouches behind the cart, her handmaiden disguise now streaked with grime and blood. A squad of super battle droids advances, their heavy footsteps echoing across the hangar. The lead droid raises its arm cannon and fires. The bolt hits the cart inches from the Queen's head, sending her sprawling as debris rains down around her. She's pinned. She's going to die. The pilot's words echo in Anakin's mind—the ship above them, the Lucrehulk, the thing that's keeping them trapped down here, holding them in place like a lid on a box. He sees the N-1 starfighters nearby, their cockpits open and waiting. He doesn't think. He runs. Blaster bolts scorch the ground behind him as he scrambles up the maintenance ladder and pulls himself inside the cockpit. The controls are unfamiliar, but his hands move with instinct, guided by something he can't name. The engines roar to life.

The N-1 starfighter's engines scream as Anakin yanks the controls upward, the chrome-plated craft shooting toward the hangar's energy barrier. The shield generator's containment field flickers and fails under the starfighter's impact, sending cascading sparks across the hangar floor as the barrier collapses completely. Vulture droids converge from multiple vectors, their wing-mounted blasters already charging for the kill shot.

Akin's hands move across the unfamiliar controls with the same muscle memory that guided his podracer through the Boonta Eve Classic. The starfighter's sleek frame responds to his touch, banking hard left as the first volley of blaster fire scorches past the cockpit canopy. He feels the ship's systems through the Force—the thrum of the twin engines, the subtle vibration of the targeting computer attempting to lock onto multiple targets simultaneously.

Below him, the hangar erupts into chaos as Trade Federation forces realize their trap has sprung early. The Vulture droids coordinate their attack with mechanical precision, spreading into a loose formation designed to bracket the N-1's flight path. Anakin's breathing quickens as he pulls the starfighter into a steep climb, using Theed's towering spires as cover. The chrome hull reflects the city's architecture in distorted flashes as he weaves between balconies and communication towers. Behind him, the pursuing droids adjust their trajectory, their wing-mounted blasters tracking his erratic movements.

A plasma bolt streaks past his cockpit, close enough that the heat scorches the transparisteel canopy. Anakin's hands tighten on the controls as he initiates a barrel roll, the maneuver sending his starfighter spiraling downward toward the palace gardens. The Force guides his hands through the unfamiliar flight patterns, translating his podracing instincts into space combat maneuvers. He feels the ship's structural stress points, the engine temperature thresholds, the precise moment when the thrusters will respond to his input.

Another volley forces Anakin into a sharp dive, the N-1's wings scraping a comm tower. Vulture droids split—two follow, one circles back. Anakin's hands are slick, his breathing rapid as he pulls the ship into a tight turn around a government building.

The Force surges through him. He feels the droid's firing solution before it fires, banking hard right as a plasma bolt streaks past. Another droid drops ahead. Anakin fires blindly. The shot catches its processor, sending it spinning into the depths. The remaining droids hesitate. Anakin pulls the N-1 into a steep climb. The Lucrehulk's massive ring blots out the stars. He doesn't have a plan. He's going toward it because it's the only thing that makes sense.

> Anakin Skywalker takes out the Lucrehulk-Class Battleship. 

Anakin Skywalker flies the N-1 through the Lucrehulk's main hangar energy barrier as the Vulture droids break off pursuit, and the massive bay opens up before him. The energy barrier dissolves around the N-1's chrome hull in cascading ripples of blue light, and Anakin's starfighter bursts into the Lucrehulk's main hangar bay like a comet through darkness. The cavernous space stretches hundreds of meters in all directions, its walls lined with rows of Vulture droids docked in charging alcoves and racks of B1 battle droids awaiting deployment. Fuel lines snake across the deck plating like mechanical arteries, carrying hypermatter directly to the ship's massive reactor core visible through transparent conduits at the hangar's center.

"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" The hangar's automated systems blare across the bay as droid technicians and maintenance crews scatter. A squad of super battle droids immediately pivots toward the unexpected visitor, their twin blasters tracking the N-1's flight path as it screams across the deck. Anakin's hands move across the unfamiliar controls with desperate instinct as the N-1 starfighter banks hard left, its chrome hull reflecting the hangar's harsh lighting in distorted flashes. Blaster bolts from the super battle droids score sparks across his wing as he pushes the engines to maximum thrust. The boy's breathing comes in short, ragged gasps as he weaves between fuel conduits and maintenance platforms, each near-miss sending debris cascading across the deck plating.

The hangar's defensive turrets emerge from concealed positions along the walls, their targeting computers struggling to acquire a lock on the nimble starfighter. Anakin feels the reactor core pulsing ahead—a massive sphere of contained energy that powers the entire battleship. His podracing instincts translate into flight maneuvers as he threads the N-1 through a maze of support columns and droid charging stations. A plasma bolt clips his port stabilizer, sending the ship into a violent roll that would have killed a pilot without such natural skill.

Anakin's hands fight the controls as the N-1 starfighter's port stabilizer sparks and smokes, but the Force guides his movements through the chaos. He corrects the roll with a sharp tug on the control yoke, sending the chrome craft spiraling through a gap between two massive fuel conduits. Behind him, the super battle droids adjust their targeting parameters while the defensive turrets finally achieve weapon locks.

The reactor core looms closer—a sphere of contained hypermatter energy that could power half the Mid Rim. Anakin's small hands tighten on the controls as he lines up his approach, the N-1's targeting computer struggling to compensate for the damaged stabilizer. His breathing comes in short, ragged gasps as plasma bolts streak past his cockpit canopy, close enough that the heat warps the transparisteel.

"Targeting solution acquired," the ship's computer announces in its calm voice. Anakin's finger hovers over the firing stud as the reactor core's energy readings spike into the red. The massive sphere of contained hypermatter pulses with restrained fury, its containment fields strained to their absolute limits by the ship's ongoing operations. One precise shot could trigger a chain reaction that would tear the Lucrehulk apart from within, but the margin for error is nonexistent. The N-1's damaged systems struggle to maintain targeting lock as super battle droid fire continues scoring sparks across the chrome hull.

Anakin's finger tightens around the firing stud as the N-1's targeting computer finally achieves a stable lock on the reactor core's weakest structural point. The super battle droids below unleash another volley that punches through his starboard wing, sending molten metal spraying across the cockpit. Warning lights cascade across the display as the damaged stabilizer begins to separate completely, threatening to spin the starfighter into an uncontrollable death spiral.

The plasma bolt from Anakin's laser cannon streaks across the hangar bay and strikes the reactor core's primary containment housing with devastating accuracy. For a heartbeat, nothing happens—then the massive sphere erupts in a cascade of brilliant blue energy as the hypermatter goes critical. The Lucrehulk's internal structure buckles under the electromagnetic shockwave, tearing through bulkheads and support struts like paper.

The containment field's failure sends a shockwave through the hangar, throwing the N-1 sideways as Anakin fights to regain control. The Lucrehulk's internal structure begins to collapse around him, support beams twisting and bulkheads buckling under the force of the explosion. Anakin slams the throttle forward, aiming for the energy barrier as debris rains down around his starfighter. The N-1 shoots through the barrier just as the reactor detonates fully, and the Lucrehulk's ring structure shatters behind him like a dying star.

The N-1 tumbles through the open sky as the Lucrehulk's destruction ripples outward behind him, debris trailing his flight path like a comet's tail. Anakin's hands lock on the controls as the damaged stabilizer gives out completely, sending the starfighter into a steep, uncontrolled dive toward the ground below. The wind screams past his cockpit as the palace hangar rushes up to meet him. He doesn't think about slowing down. He doesn't think about landing gear. He pulls back on the yoke, firewalls the thrusters, and drops the N-1 onto the deck with a grinding screech of tortured metal and sparks.

From the evacuation shuttle's viewport, Queen Amidala watches the Lucrehulk's shattered ring begin its slow descent toward the area between Theed and the Great Plains. On the ground, the Trade Federation battle droids are deactivating in waves, their photoreceptor lenses going dark as the control ship's systems fail. The Gungans are emerging from cover, their war cries rising in celebration as they realize the battle is won. Her eyes track a single N-1 starfighter as it plummets from the debris field, its chrome hull scorched and smoking, its stabilizer trailing sparks. She recognizes the markings—it is one of Naboo's own, a ship from the palace hangar. She watches it drop toward the deck in a death spiral, expecting it to explode on impact. Instead, it skids across the deck and comes to a halt.

The shuttle's ramp hisses downward as Captain Panaka leads the group toward the N-1. The starfighter's cockpit canopy is already open, and Anakin Skywalker climbs out, his face streaked with soot and exhaustion, a shaky grin spreading across his face as he stumbles toward them.

"Anakin, hurry and come over here," Amidala calls out, disbelief overtaking her. "Did you just destroy the Lucrehulk?"

Anakin reaches the shuttle, his breathing ragged, his hands still shaking, but that grin stays in place. "Qui-Gon said to use the Force," he says, a nervous laugh escaping him. "So I did. I thought we were all lunch, Your Highness."

Captain Panaka steps forward, his expression unreadable. "You definitely helped, kid. Now come on, get inside." Anakin nods and climbs aboard. The ramp seals shut as Panaka moves to the cockpit.

Inside the shuttle, Queen Amidala settles into a seat, her gaze fixed on Anakin as he collapses opposite her, the grin finally fading into exhausted relief. Senator Palpatine stands near the viewport, watching the Lucrehulk's burning fragments impact the ground in distant fireballs.

"You know, if the Viceroy hasn't fled, that's a voice the other side loses," Palpatine observes. "Senator Dod will find himself without his patron, and the corporate blocs will fracture. All the more reason to request an emergency order for the Republic to sever all relations with Trade Federation affiliated businesses and worlds, Your Highness. It would isolate them completely and force the Senate to choose between supporting a broken alliance or standing with Naboo."

Queen Amidala processes Palpatine's words while watching the last fragments of the Lucrehulk burn against the horizon. Next to her, Anakin is still shaking, his small hands clenched in his lap. She extends her hand and touches his shoulder, feeling the heat of his exhaustion through the fabric.

The silence stretches for a few moments before Palpatine speaks again. "You saved the day, young Skywalker. It is a shame about Master Qui-Gon—we still haven't received word." His words sink into the boy's ears, reminding him that his new Jedi friend was mortally wounded. "I'm sure he is doing everything he can to survive, but the damage was severe. He lost his arm."

Anakin's breathing stops at the revelation, his shaky grin vanishing completely. He looks at Queen Amidala silently as the shuttle's systems hum around them.

Then Captain Panaka's voice comes from the cockpit. "Your Highness, the blockade ships are retreating. The Lucrehulk is down. We don't need to evacuate."

Queen Amidala rises from her seat and moves to the viewport. The Lucrehulk's remains are scattered across the plains, smoke rising from the impact sites. The droid army is deactivated. The Gungans are cheering. She turns back to the group, her eyes settling on Anakin.

"You were supposed to be hiding," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Then she shakes her head, a disbelieving laugh escaping her. "You were supposed to hide, Anakin. And instead you destroyed the entire Federation command ship."

Anakin's eyes drop to the floor. "You were pinned, and the shuttle couldn't launch, and I just went."

She kneels in front of him, her hands on his shoulders. "You went. And you saved every single one of us. Do you understand that? The battle is over because of you."

Anakin looks up at her, his face pale but his eyes steady. "I just wanted to help," he says softly.

She holds his gaze, then rises. Senator Palpatine steps forward, his expression shifting to urgent purpose. "Your Highness, I must return to Coruscant immediately. The Senate must act while the victory is fresh. With the Viceroy's influence broken and the Federation in chaos, I can secure the emergency order and ensure the Republic stands with Naboo. I need to leave now, while the shock of the Lucrehulk's destruction is still reverberating."

Queen Amidala considers this, her gaze drifting to the burning wreckage on the horizon. "Go. Do what you must." She pauses. "And send word when you arrive. Let us know if you've learned anything about Anakin's mother. And about the Senate."

Palpatine bows. "It will be done, Your Highness." He turns toward the shuttle, but Anakin's voice stops him. "Senator Palpatine? When you get to Coruscant... can you check on my mother? I haven't heard anything since you told me she was found."

Palpatine pauses at the ramp's edge, his expression softening. "I will make it my first priority, young Skywalker. Your mother is in good hands, but I understand the need to know for certain." He studies the boy. "You have done remarkable things today. Your mother will be proud." He holds Anakin's gaze a moment longer, then disappears into the shuttle as the ramp seals shut.

Anakin watches the shuttle lift off and disappear. He looks back at Amidala, confusion and exhaustion on his face. "What happens now?"

Amidala looks at him—the boy who was supposed to hide, who instead climbed into a starfighter and destroyed a battleship. She kneels in front of him. "Now we find Qui-Gon. We get him help. And we make sure the Jedi know what you did today."

Anakin's eyes drop to the floor. "He lost his arm," he whispers. "Palpatine said he lost his arm."

"He did. But he's alive. And we're sending a team to bring him back."

Anakin looks up. "What if he doesn't make it?"

She meets his gaze. "Then we will honor him. But we don't give up on him yet."

A long silence stretches between them. Outside, the distant cheering of the Gungans carries across the plains. The wreckage of the Lucrehulk burns on the horizon. The droids lie silent and deactivated.

Anakin's hands are still shaking. He looks down at them. "I didn't know what I was doing. I just kept going."

Amidala rises, her hand on his shoulder. "That's what courage is, Anakin. Not knowing what you're doing. Just going anyway."

He looks up. "You really think Qui-Gon is going to be okay?"

She looks out at the smoking ruins, the Gungans celebrating, the palace standing scarred. "I think he's fighting. And as long as he's fighting, we fight too. That's what Naboo does."

She turns to Captain Panaka. "Send a team to the generator complex. Find Qui-Gon Jinn. Get him medical support immediately."

Panaka nods and moves to the comm.

Amidala turns back to Anakin. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. You've done enough for one day."

Anakin nods, but he doesn't move. He stands there, watching the smoke.

Several hours later, the hangar is quiet. The distant cheering has faded into the night. Emergency lights cast long shadows as a team of medics carries Qui-Gon Jinn's stretcher through the main entrance. His face is pale, his right arm ending in a sealed bacta patch, but his chest rises and falls with steady breaths.

Anakin is there, sitting on a crate near the shuttle. He stands as the stretcher passes, his small frame rigid.

Amidala steps forward, her hand brushing Anakin's shoulder. "He's alive. That's what matters."

Anakin watches until the stretcher disappears. He should feel relief. But the relief doesn't come. Instead, a different weight settles in his chest—a hollow ache.

"My mother," he says. "We haven't heard anything about my mother. She's still on Coruscant. I don't even know if she's awake yet."

He looks down at his hands. He saved a planet. He destroyed a battleship. And none of it matters because he doesn't know if his mother is okay.

Amidala kneels beside him. "Your mother is strong, Anakin. She survived Tatooine. She survived slavery. She's going to survive this too." She pauses, her hand finding his. "I know it's hard. All of it—the waiting, the not knowing. But she's in good hands. The Jedi are with her."

Anakin is quiet. When he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. "I just want to see her. I just want to know she's okay."

The night air is cool. The wreckage of the Lucrehulk still smolders in the distance, but the fires have dimmed. Somewhere in the palace, the medics are working on Qui-Gon. Somewhere on Coruscant, his mother is healing. And he is here, caught between all of it.

Amidala stands beside him. "We'll get you to her," she says quietly. "I promise." The promise hangs in the air. Anakin doesn't respond, but his shoulders drop slightly as the reality sets in that the Trade Federation occupation is over.