ℝ𝔸𝕋𝕀𝕆ℕ𝔸𝕃 ➵ o. kenobi {my only hope; book 1}

【 NINE 】

     ᴘᴀᴅᴍÉ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅ. Just thirty seconds after Qui-Gon and I had left with Jar Jar and the little blue droid who had fixed the ship in tow, we heard the ramp from the ship retract and Captain Panaka call out, "Wait!"

Qui-Gon and I exchanged wary glances before turning around, checking to see what the issue was. Trudging toward us across the vast field of sand was the captain himself, escorting a determined Padmé toward us. She'd changed outfits as well, and was now suitably vested in a long-sleeved blue shirt and grey vest, with baggy black pants and boots. Her hair was intricately braided, which I assumed she'd done herself. One of my only memories of my mother was her teaching me to braid... over, under.

As Captain Panaka approached, Qui-Gon sighed deeply, and I could tell he knew what their intentions were. "Her Highness commands you to take her handmaiden with you," the captain announced, blinking at Padmé.

"No more commands from Her Highness today, Captain," Qui-Gon breathed in exasperation, staying calm despite his obvious frustration. As Captain Panaka turned toward the Jedi Knight in incredulity, Qui-Gon shook his head. "The spaceport is not going to be pleasant."

Qui-Gon turned to continue on his path, and gestured with a head nod for me to follow, but before we could continue, Panaka stepped forward, blocking us. "The queen wishes it," he went on cooly. "She's curious about the planet."

I watched as Qui-Gon mulled it over in his head, thinking quickly. "This is not a good idea," he said finally. But with a conclusive look back at Padmé, he nodded. "Stay close to me or Naberrie."

Padmé nodded seriously, and with that, we began our trek, the five of us, making our way across the desert planet.

I didn't dare speak to anyone besides Qui-Gon for the duration of our walk. Any conversation with Padmé would immediately either make Qui-Gon suspicious about her identity, or get him mad at me for making attachments. Talking to Jar Jar would string up conversations I really did not want to be apart of. And talking to the droid--the little R2D2 unit--well, I couldn't exactly speak beeps.

Even then, I didn't speak much to Qui-Gon. I'd tell him a couple of my observations about the upcoming spaceport every now and then, but mostly, I just walked in silence, taking in the sights and observing the Tatooine culture, which was more and more visible the closer we got to the settlement.

For such a hot, sandy place, people were dressed very modestly. From my observations, it was more likely to encounter someone in long-sleeved clothes and garmented in robes that it was to find anyone in a short-sleeved shirt or shorts. The females' hair was usually styled modestly as well, almost never loose, almost always in a tight bun of sorts. There were all sorts of creatures and species I'd never encountered before, each just as interesting and intriguing as the last.

"Moisture farmers, for the most part," Qui-Gon explained, gesturing around at the civilians, educating Padmé on the culture she'd been so eager to see. "Some indigenous tribes and scavengers. The few spaceports like this one are havens for those who don't wish to be found."

"Like us," Padmé remarked seriously.

Qui-Gon didn't respond, but even I could feel the weight of acceptance of Padmé's statement on his shoulders.

"Dissen berry berry bad," Jar Jar spoke up, breaking the tense silence. Before he could say anything else, he stepped in something, making a loud squelching noise. "Oh!" He cried. "Icky icky goo!"

Padmé turned to me, her brown eyes alight with amusement. She nodded toward Jar Jar subtly. "He always like this?"

I scoffed, shoving my hands in my pocket as I squinted against the glaring sun. "You have no idea."