Padmé, sensing the futility of her political efforts, made a decision, if the Senate wouldn't help Naboo, she would take matters into her own hands.
From the ramblings of Jar Jar Binks, she learned that the Gungans possessed real fighting strength.
They couldn't defeat the Trade Federation in open battle, not head-on, but they could serve as a diversion.
Draw the droid army's attention. Create an opening for a strike at the heart of the operation… the control ship.
The plan took shape quickly.
Qui-Gon, however, knew something Padmé didn't.
Garfield had effectively become the ghost in the machine of every Trade Federation vessel.
Any assault on the control ship would be walking into unknown territory. But Qui-Gon held back.
If revealing the truth meant jeopardizing their chance to expose Palpatine, to force him into the open, then silence was the better part of strategy.
For now.
So when Padmé prepared to return to Naboo, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan offered their lightsabers.
"We'll see this through," Qui-Gon said. And they boarded her ship.
During the quiet hours, Qui-Gon took Anakin aside. He didn't teach him lightsaber forms or Force techniques.
Instead, he spoke of life. Of compassion and the choices that define a Jedi.
He planted seeds, hoping they'd take root in the boy's heart before darker hands could sow something else.
Back on Coruscant, Palpatine watched from his office window as Padmé's ship vanished into the traffic lanes.
When it was gone, he activated a secure channel.
Static.
Crackle.
His brow tightened. The signal was a mess, but then, finally, Darth Maul's face flickered onto the screen.
"Master. Your orders?"
Palpatine's voice was ice. "You let them leave. You let her leave. And where, exactly, are you?"
"...zzzkt... encountered a cosmic storm... communications damaged... just arrived at Naboo's—zzzhhhhk—"
The transmission dissolved into noise.
Palpatine stared at the blank screen. Then, slowly, he exhaled.
The anger was simmering, but he let it pass. Focus. Always focus.
He opened another channel. This time to the Trade Federation fleet blockading Naboo.
The Governor, that absurd little creature in a sweater, appeared on screen and saluted. "Master Sidious. Your orders?"
"Is Darth there?"
"Our sensors detected a small vessel approaching. Communications are spotty, but its transponder matches Lord Darth's codes."
That... was something. Reassuring, even.
But Palpatine knew the Sith way. Master and apprentice, bound by power and treachery.
It had happened to his own master. It could happen to him.
He made a mental note. It might be time to cultivate a backup. Someone like Count Dooku.
On Naboo, Darth Maul's ship descended through the atmosphere and touched down near the Trade Federation blockade.
Droid fighters circled and destroyers formed a perimeter.
Inside the cockpit, Darth Maul opened his eyes.
He'd slept the entire journey… three days straight, only stirring as the ship landed.
Now, looking out at the sea of metallic soldiers surrounding him, confusion flickered through his mind.
Had his navigation failed? Was this not the cowardly rat-hole of the Trade Federation fleet after all?
Or...
Was Sidious making a move?
The Trade Federation wouldn't dare surround him like this. They were spineless.
Which left only one possibility, his master had decided it was time for a replacement.
Hateful.
He knew Sidious was treacherous. He'd always known. But to spring the trap now?
Darth Maul's hand drifted toward his lightsaber. He scanned the perimeter, so many droids.
And the Destroyers. He knew their power all too well. Even with a lightsaber, the odds were impossible.
Think.