Coruscant, 32 BBY | Jedi Temple
The afternoon sun hung low over Coruscant, its golden light reflecting from the endless towers of the Republic's capital. Thousands of airspeeders travelled between buildings, their engines creating a distant, continuous hum that barely penetrated the uppermost chambers of the Jedi Temple.
Inside the High Council Chamber, Qui-Gon Jinn stood before twelve Jedi Masters.
He had expected resistance. He had not expected agreement.
"The boy's midi-chlorian count is higher than any I've encountered," Qui-Gon explained. "Even Master Yoda's."
Mace Windu regarded him from his seat. "An extraordinary claim, Qui-Gon. But a high midi-chlorian count does not automatically make someone the Chosen One."
"No," Qui-Gon agreed. "But the circumstances surrounding his discovery cannot simply be dismissed."
Ki-Adi-Mundi leaned forward. "You said the boy is nine years old?"
"Yes."
"Then you understand our concerns. His training would begin considerably later than is customary."
"I understand the Council's concerns. I do not share its conclusions."
Mace's expression remained unchanged.
"That much is apparent."
A few Council members exchanged glances. Qui-Gon's disagreements with the Council were hardly unprecedented.
Yoda rested both hands upon his walking stick.
"Much fear surrounds the boy. His future, difficult to see it is."
"He's been separated from his mother," Qui-Gon replied. "He's travelled halfway across the galaxy with people he barely knows. I would be more concerned if he weren't frightened."
"Fear is natural," Plo Koon observed. "What matters is how one learns to respond to it."
"Precisely," said a voice from the opposite side of the chamber.
Master Martus Kael Vorran had been listening without interruption.
At five feet six inches, Martus was shorter than several of his fellow Council members, although there was nothing slight about him. Years of physical training had given him a remarkably muscular build, with broad shoulders beneath his traditional brown robes. His head was clean-shaven, his blue eyes attentive.
Two violet lightsaber hilts rested at his belt.
He had spent much of the discussion studying Qui-Gon rather than the other Masters.
Now he addressed Yoda.
"May I ask something?"
Yoda inclined his head. "Ask, you may."
"Has anyone considered speaking to the boy about what he actually wants?"
Mace turned towards him.
"His wishes do not change the risks involved."
"No. But understanding those wishes might help us determine what those risks actually are."
"Master Vorran," Ki-Adi-Mundi said, "the issue is whether someone of his age can successfully adapt to Jedi training."
"Then perhaps we should examine the training rather than automatically conclude that the child is the problem."
A brief silence followed.
Qui-Gon looked towards Martus with renewed interest.
Mace folded his hands.
"You've raised this argument before."
"And I've yet to hear a particularly convincing answer."
"Tradition exists for a reason."
"Certainly. So does improvement."
Yoda's ears lifted slightly.
"An alternative, you propose?"
Martus considered the question.
"I propose we stop discussing him as though his future has already been decided."
"He possesses considerable potential," Mace replied. "Potential that could become dangerous without proper discipline."
"Then teach him discipline."
"His attachments complicate that."
Martus looked at him.
"His mother, you mean?"
"Among other things."
"He's nine, Mace. His mother is the only family he's ever known. Asking him to stop caring about her won't eliminate his fear of losing her."
"No one is suggesting he should stop caring."
"Then we're agreed. The question is how to teach him to manage those feelings without allowing them to govern his decisions."
Plo Koon regarded Martus thoughtfully.
"That distinction is important."
"Very," Martus replied.
He turned towards Yoda.
"I'll train him."
Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose.
Mace straightened in his seat.
"You're volunteering to take the boy as your Padawan?"
"I am."
"You already have responsibilities as second-in-command of this Council."
"Which I'm perfectly capable of fulfilling."
"That isn't the point."
"Then what is?"
Mace regarded him for several seconds.
"You know perfectly well that the Council has not approved the boy's training."
"Yes. Which is why I'm asking rather than simply collecting him from the corridor."
Depa Billaba suppressed the beginnings of a smile.
Yoda, however, remained serious.
"Great responsibility, this would be. Uncertain, the boy's future remains."
"Every child's future is uncertain, Master."
"Strong in the Force, he is. Stronger than most."
"Then he needs a teacher who understands that strength isn't the same thing as control."
Mace studied him.
"And you believe your particular philosophy makes you that teacher?"
"I believe my experience makes me qualified."
Martus spoke without raising his voice.
"I've studied the Jedi teachings. I've studied traditions from my own world. I've spent years learning how fear, anger and attachment influence judgement. I know what happens when people attempt to bury emotions rather than understand them."
"Your methods remain unconventional," Ki-Adi-Mundi observed.
"They've served me rather well."
"Not every Jedi possesses your temperament."
"Which is precisely why I wouldn't teach every Jedi in exactly the same manner."
Qui-Gon glanced between them.
"If I may, Masters, I would be willing to train Anakin myself."
Martus looked towards him.
"I don't doubt that, Qui-Gon."
"Then why volunteer?"
"Because I suspect the boy needs something slightly different from what either of us was taught."
Qui-Gon considered that.
"And what would that be?"
"A little room to be a child, for a start."
The answer appeared to catch Qui-Gon off guard.
Martus continued.
"He's been a slave. He's been responsible for helping support his mother. He's built machines from discarded parts and risked his life in a podrace. I suspect he's had very few opportunities to enjoy being nine years old."
Yoda closed his eyes briefly.
"Compassionate, your intentions are."
"I should hope so. We're Jedi."
Mace exhaled through his nose.
"Your humour is not helping."
"It rarely does, according to you."
This time, Depa actually smiled.
Yoda opened his eyes.
"Discuss this further, we must. Tested, the boy shall be. Until then, no decision regarding his training will be made."
Martus inclined his head.
"Understood."
Qui-Gon appeared disappointed, although he accepted the ruling.
As the meeting concluded, Yoda addressed Martus privately.
"Strong feelings about this boy, you have."
"He's frightened, Master. And everyone seems more interested in what he might become than who he is."
"Clouded, his destiny is."
"Then perhaps we should stop treating him as a prophecy and start treating him as a person."
Yoda studied his former apprentice.
"Much of your homeworld remains within you."
Martus smiled faintly.
"I should be concerned if it didn't."
Anakin Skywalker sat on a bench outside the Council Chamber, swinging his feet above the polished floor.
He had tried counting the passing Jedi.
He had reached seventeen before losing interest.
Now he was studying the intricate patterns worked into the marble beneath his shoes.
The doors opened.
Anakin immediately stood.
Qui-Gon emerged first, followed by a shorter, broad-shouldered man with a bald head and two lightsabers hanging from his belt.
"Anakin," Qui-Gon said, "I'd like you to meet someone."
The stranger approached and crouched so they were at eye level.
"Master Martus Kael Vorran."
Anakin glanced at his lightsabers.
"You have two?"
Martus followed his gaze.
"Very observant."
"Most Jedi only have one."
"Most Jedi are sensible enough not to give themselves twice as many weapons to maintain."
Anakin grinned.
"Can you use both at once?"
"I can."
"That's wizard!"
Martus smiled.
"I've been called worse."
Qui-Gon placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder.
"Master Vorran has offered to oversee your training, should the Council approve it."
Anakin's expression changed.
"Does that mean I can be a Jedi?"
"Not quite yet," Martus explained. "The Council still needs to make its decision."
Anakin looked down.
"They don't like me."
"Now, that's quite an assumption."
"They said I was too old."
"Yes, they did."
"And that I'm afraid."
"Are you?"
Anakin hesitated.
"A little."
"Of what?"
For several moments, Anakin said nothing.
Then he looked towards Qui-Gon.
"My mom."
Martus's expression softened.
"You're worried about her."
Anakin nodded.
"She's still on Tatooine. Watto still owns her."
Qui-Gon watched silently.
"She told me not to look back," Anakin continued. "But I keep thinking about her. What if something happens and I'm not there?"
Martus sat beside him.
"Tell me something, Anakin. Do you think worrying about your mother means there's something wrong with you?"
Anakin shrugged.
"The Council thinks I'm afraid."
"That wasn't my question."
The boy considered it.
"No."
"Neither do I."
Anakin looked up.
"Really?"
"Really. Loving your mother isn't something you should be ashamed of."
"But Jedi aren't supposed to have attachments."
"Jedi are taught not to let attachments control their judgement. There's a difference between caring about someone and allowing the fear of losing them to determine everything you do."
Anakin frowned, working through the distinction.
"So I can still love my mom?"
Martus glanced at Qui-Gon.
"Of course you can."
Anakin's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"But she's still a slave."
"Yes," Martus replied.
"Can you help her?"
Martus didn't answer immediately.
He knew Tatooine's position beyond Republic jurisdiction. He knew the Hutts tolerated slavery throughout their territories, and he knew the Jedi Council generally avoided becoming entangled in matters outside the Republic's authority.
He also knew that none of those facts made Shmi Skywalker's circumstances acceptable.
"I can try," he said.
Anakin searched his face.
"Really try?"
"Yes. I'll look into what can be done to secure her freedom. I won't promise you something before I know I can deliver it, but I won't forget about her either."
Anakin nodded slowly.
"Okay."
Martus extended his hand.
"Now, I understand you're something of an engineer."
Anakin's face brightened.
"I built a protocol droid!"
"Did you?"
"His name's C-3PO. He can speak loads of languages, but he doesn't have all his coverings yet. I built him out of parts I found."
"Impressive."
"And I fixed up my podracer. I built it myself."
Martus glanced at Qui-Gon.
"You neglected to mention the boy builds racing machines."
"I thought his participation in the Boonta Eve Classic rather implied it."
"Fair point."
Martus stood.
"How would you like to see something from my homeworld?"
Anakin looked intrigued.
"Where's that?"
"Earth."
"I've never heard of it."
"Neither have most people."
"Is it far away?"
"Very."
"Farther than Tatooine?"
"Considerably."
Anakin looked impressed.
"Wow."
Martus's quarters were situated in one of the Temple's quieter residential wings.
Unlike the relatively austere rooms occupied by many Jedi, his chambers contained an unusual mixture of technology, books and personal belongings.
Anakin stopped just inside the doorway.
"Whoa."
A workbench occupied one side of the room, covered in mechanical components and partially assembled devices. Several unfamiliar instruments hung neatly above it. Shelves held books of varying sizes, alongside small sculptures and objects Anakin couldn't identify.
On another wall hung a framed image of a blue-and-green planet.
"Is that Earth?"
Martus followed his gaze.
"It is."
"There's loads of water."
"Approximately seventy-one percent of the surface."
Anakin stared at the picture.
"Seventy-one?"
"More or less."
"That's a lot."
"Particularly if you've grown up on Tatooine, I imagine."
Anakin approached the workbench.
"What's that?"
"A communications device."
"It doesn't look like a comlink."
"It isn't."
Martus picked up a slim black device and activated it.
A holographic interface appeared above its surface.
Anakin leaned closer.
"How'd you do that?"
"Projection system."
"Where's the projector?"
"Built into the device."
Anakin moved around the workbench, examining it from different angles.
"Can it talk to other planets?"
"Provided there's a compatible communications network."
"Can it show pictures?"
"Yes."
"Can it control droids?"
"With the appropriate interface."
Anakin's eyes widened.
"Can I see?"
Martus handed it to him.
"Carefully. I haven't finished calibrating the neural interface."
Anakin turned it over.
"What's a neural interface?"
"A system that interprets signals from the user and converts them into commands."
"Like thinking at a machine?"
"In a simplified sense."
Anakin studied the device.
"Could you put one in a podracer?"
Martus paused.
Then he smiled.
"Now that's an interesting question."
"Because if you could make it respond faster, you wouldn't have to move your hands as much. You could just think about turning and it would turn."
"Assuming you could account for signal interference, processing delays and the possibility of the system interpreting the wrong command."
Anakin nodded eagerly.
"Yeah! You'd need something to stop it doing that."
"Precisely."
They spent the next several minutes discussing possible designs, Anakin asking questions almost faster than Martus could answer them.
Eventually, the boy noticed a colourful book lying near the edge of the desk.
"What's this?"
Martus looked over.
"A comic book."
"A what?"
"A story told through pictures and dialogue."
Anakin opened it.
A man wearing blue and red appeared on the first page, a red cape flowing behind him as he soared above a city.
"He's flying!"
"He is."
"Is he a Jedi?"
"No."
"Then how can he fly?"
"He's from another planet. His people possess extraordinary abilities under certain conditions."
Anakin examined the illustration.
"What's his name?"
"Superman."
"Superman?"
"That's what people call him. His birth name is Kal-El."
Anakin turned another page.
"He's really strong."
"Very."
"Stronger than a Jedi?"
"In his stories? Considerably stronger than most."
Anakin looked astonished.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Can he use the Force?"
"No. His abilities come from his physiology and the environment of his adopted homeworld."
Anakin turned another page.
Superman was holding a collapsing bridge while frightened civilians escaped.
"He's saving those people."
"Yes."
"Does he get paid?"
Martus raised an eyebrow.
"Paid?"
"For helping them."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he doesn't do it for money."
Anakin considered this.
"Then why does he do it?"
Martus pulled up a chair beside him.
"Because he has the ability to help, and he believes that gives him a responsibility to do so."
Anakin looked back at the page.
"Even if they're strangers?"
"Especially then."
The boy studied the illustration for several seconds.
"He's kind of like a Jedi."
"In some respects."
"Does he have a master?"
"Not in the same way Jedi do. His parents taught him much of what he knows about being a good person."
"His real parents?"
"Both sets, in different ways. He was born on a planet called Krypton, but he grew up on Earth with the people who adopted him."
Anakin looked up.
"So he had two families?"
"Yes."
"Did he miss his first one?"
Martus regarded him thoughtfully.
"He never really knew them. But learning where he came from became an important part of understanding who he was."
Anakin nodded.
He turned another page, but his movements had slowed.
"Do you think my mom would like him?"
Martus smiled.
"From what Qui-Gon has told me about your mother, I suspect she would."
Anakin traced a finger along the edge of the page.
"She always told me to help people."
"Then she sounds like a wise woman."
"She is."
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Anakin looked at Martus.
"Can I be like Superman?"
Martus considered his answer.
"You can learn from him."
"But I can't fly."
"Not without assistance."
"And I can't shoot lasers out of my eyes."
"Probably for the best. That would make breakfast rather hazardous."
Anakin laughed.
Martus leaned forward.
"Anakin, what do you think makes Superman a hero?"
"His powers?"
"Do they?"
The boy thought about it.
"He saves people."
"Yes. But he could use those powers to make people do whatever he wanted. He could take whatever he liked. Very few people could stop him."
Anakin frowned.
"But he doesn't."
"Exactly."
"Because he's good?"
"Because he chooses to do good. And he has to keep making that choice, even when it's difficult."
Anakin looked down at the comic again.
"So being a hero isn't just about being strong."
"No. Strength is useful. What you decide to do with it matters rather more."
Anakin smiled.
"I think I like Superman."
"So do I."
"Can I borrow this?"
Martus looked at the book, then at the boy.
"On one condition."
"What?"
"You tell me what you think of it when you've finished."
Anakin grinned.
"Deal!"
Martus extended his hand.
Anakin shook it enthusiastically.
Later that evening, Qui-Gon returned to collect Anakin.
He found the boy sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading the comic book while Martus worked on a small mechanical component at his desk.
"Anakin."
The boy looked up.
"Master Qui-Gon! Look!"
He held up the book.
"He's called Superman, and he's from a planet called Krypton, but he grew up on Earth, and he can fly and lift really heavy things!"
Qui-Gon looked towards Martus.
"Superman?"
"An old acquaintance," Martus replied.
"An acquaintance?"
"Fictional, unfortunately. Otherwise I'd have introduced you."
Qui-Gon shook his head, amused.
"We should be going. It's been a long day."
Anakin closed the book.
"Can I keep reading it?"
Martus nodded.
"Of course."
The boy tucked it carefully beneath his arm.
At the doorway, he hesitated.
"Master Martus?"
"Yes?"
"Are you really going to try to help my mom?"
Martus put down the component.
"Yes, Anakin."
"Even if the Council says no?"
"Then I'll have to find out what options are available to us. There are laws, agreements and people involved that we need to understand first."
Anakin looked uncertain.
"But you won't forget?"
"No."
The boy studied him for a moment before nodding.
"Okay. Goodnight, Master Martus."
"Goodnight, Anakin."
Qui-Gon waited until the boy had stepped into the corridor.
Then he turned back.
"You've made quite an impression."
"He's an intelligent child."
"That he is."
"And a remarkably talented engineer."
Qui-Gon smiled.
"You've noticed."
"Hard not to. He redesigned half my communications interface in his head."
"His abilities extend considerably beyond mechanics."
"I know."
Qui-Gon's expression grew more serious.
"The Council may still refuse to train him."
"They may."
"And if they do?"
Martus leaned back against his workbench.
"Then we'll have to consider what happens next."
"You seem remarkably unconcerned."
"Not unconcerned, Qui-Gon. Merely unwilling to make a decision before it's necessary."
Qui-Gon regarded him for a moment.
"You really believe you can help him?"
"I believe he deserves the opportunity to learn."
"And the prophecy?"
Martus glanced towards the window.
Coruscant's towers stretched into the distance, their lights beginning to illuminate the evening skyline.
"I've spent enough time studying history to know that prophecies are frequently misunderstood."
"Yet you don't dismiss this one."
"No. I simply refuse to make it the foundation of a child's identity."
Qui-Gon considered those words.
Then he inclined his head.
"Thank you for speaking with him."
"My pleasure."
Qui-Gon departed.
Martus remained by the workbench for several moments before activating his communications device.
A holographic interface appeared.
"Open a new research file."
The system responded with a soft tone.
"File designation?"
"Shmi Skywalker. Human female. Resident of Mos Espa, Tatooine."
A series of fields appeared.
"Research parameters?"
Martus folded his arms.
"Local ownership laws, Hutt territorial jurisdiction, legal manumission procedures and available contacts on Tatooine. Prioritise legitimate methods of securing her freedom."
The device began compiling information.
Martus looked towards the framed image of Earth on the opposite wall.
He had made a promise to a frightened nine-year-old boy.
And he intended to keep it.
End of Chapter One