In The Best Interests Of The Child

by Linda Lyons

Taima reached into the packing box and unwrapped the two shiny routing cubes her friend Trelane would use -- with any luck at all -- to fix her private computer terminal. "You really should let me look at it," piped her young visitor from behind her. "I keep telling you, I can fix it!"

She looked over her shoulder, squinting at the glare of the late afternoon sun at her kitchen window, to find him pouting at her with his little rosebud mouth. "I don't know, Annie," she said doubtfully. "I don't think Obi-Wan would be too pleased if I let you get electrocuted sticking your hand in the innards of my computer."

Anakin Skywalker blew his cheeks full with a derisive gust of air. Almost, but not quite, a raspberry.

"Obi-Wan knows I can fix it! Ask him. He'll say I've been a mechanic my whole life!"

"Perhaps I will, when he gets home," said Taima, turning her head to hide her smile. Confident as always, that Anakin. At least, on the outside.

She put the wrappings aside with a crinkle and in an instant young Anakin was beside her. "Paper?" he said. "Real paper?"

"Um-humm. These are Tamarian routing cubes." Tamarian components were superior to anything else on the market, and many times more expensive. They always came in paper wrapping; plastic would have marred the finish.

Two bright blue eyes followed the coveted parts with longing as she placed them on a shelf high out of reach. "You can have the paper to draw on, if you want. I have some coloring inks here somewhere."

"Okay, said Anakin affably. He shrugged and ambled back to the kitchen table with his paper as Taima turned to her cabinets to retrieve the package of coloring inks. She had brought them home from work specifically for this purpose.

Taima occupied three modest little rooms in a huge apartment complex in the middle of everything that was anything on Coruscant. A short walk from the famed headquarters of the Jedi Council, a short walk from her own workplace, and two doors down, as luck would have it, from Obi-Wan Kenobi, newly created Jedi knight and guardian to this most interesting little boy.

Anakin had met everyone on their floor within two days of arriving here. He had greeted everyone with a wave and a smile, and developed a terrible weakness for Taima's homemade fruit tarts. When Obi-Wan arrived home from an errand in the afternoon or evening to find the boy not at home, he always knew to come and collect him here.

Taima plucked the package of inks off the shelf. "Here, Anakin," she said. She tossed them toward him, with terrible aim. The inks would have missed him completely, but the instant she threw them, the boy raised his hand, pointed, and they flipped neatly in the air and came straight to him. He caught them perfectly, with a wide grin.

Taima blinked. "Is that what you're learning in Jedi school these days?"

Annie shrugged. "Some of it. It's not school, really, not yet. Obi-Wan shows me things, but he makes me go to real school, too. He says it doesn't matter how great a Jedi I am if I can't read and write."

"I bet it's good to spend part of your day with kids your own age."

Anakin shrugged. "Mostly."

"Which do you like better, Anakin? Jedi lessons or 'real' school?"

The boy paused and considered, frowning. Finally he said, "Lessons with Obi-Wan, I guess. Although they aren't exactly what I expected. Some parts are easy, but some parts are really, really hard." His little face grew unusually sober, and his little voice, downcast.

Hmm. Taima would let that one sit, for a while.

Anakin planted himself in a chair, dangled his feet, chewed thoughtfully at a princeberry tart.

"You aren't drawing anything."

"I can't decide what to draw."

"Draw me ... " Taima squinted skyward and pretended to think about it for a moment. "Draw me that big space battle you were in. Or draw me ... I know! Draw me a picture of that beautiful parade. I saw you in it, on the news. If I were ever at such a lovely spectacle as that, I'd want to remember it for the rest of my life."

Anakin stared dispiritedly ahead of him for a moment. Finally he selected a gray marker and began to draw.

"What did you do today, Taima?" he said after a while. "Did you work all day?"

"I work all day, all the time," said Taima wearily. "I have a very busy job."

"Really? I never asked you what your job is."

"I take care of kids all day long, Annie."

"Like, babies? Big kids or little kids?"

"I take care of all kinds of kids," Taima said. "Some bigger than you, some younger than you. And some just your age," she finished with a smile. Annie smiled back.

Taima worked very hard indeed. She had already graduated from law school before she decided she wanted to work with children; she had gone back to school, finished, and had just been promoted to the head of her division. She had only just turned thirty years old.

She walked up behind Anakin and frowned. "What is that, Annie? That certainly isn't the parade."

Anakin shook his head. "I couldn't draw the parade. I can't remember it, really. Too much was going on."

And Qui-Gon Jinn had just died, Taima added silently.

He showed her his picture. "This is my podracer back home. Or rather, it was my podracer. We sold it before we left, to give my mom some extra money."

Pod racer? That opened up many more questions, but Taima resisted the temptation to ask them. She was finally getting somewhere; she wasn't going to close this avenue to chase down another she suspected was far less significant.

Anakin selected a green marker and drew a small Rodian in a clumsy childhood scrawl. "This is my friend Wald," he announced. He added several more children in brown peasant dress and said, "And this is Aimee, and that's Seek, and that's Kitster. Kitster was my best friend."

"You had a lot of friends," Taima observed, nodding. "But where is your mom? Put your mom in the picture, Annie."

Anakin hesitated; then slowly he picked out a light brown marker and drew an oval for the face. Brown eyes. Pink, for the lips. Black hair in a knot at the nape of her neck. A dull peasant sweater and skirt.

He put his pen down and silently contemplated the picture.

"She seems like a nice lady," Taima remarked casually. "Was she a good mom?"

"Y-yes," quavered Anakin. Although she was standing over him from behind, Taima could see his little chin quivering.

"I guess you really miss her, huh?"

That did it. Two big tears fell onto the Rodian child, mixing green ink with gray and brown.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie," Taima said quietly, and bent to hug him.

The next instant the child was weeping as though a dike inside him had broken.

Fifteen minutes later, after Taima had brought him tissues to dry his eyes and blow his nose, Anakin sniffled and made her swear not to tell Obi-Wan.

"But why, sweetheart? He'll take one look at you and know you've been crying, anyway."

Two puffy blue eyes flew wide open. "He will?! How?"

"Your eyes are all red."

"Oh, no!" Anakin cried, and leaped off the chair and dashed into her 'fresher. Taima followed to find him rinsing his face and eyes with cold water.

At last he joined her on her sofa. "Do my eyes look better, Taima?"

"Yes, they do," she said.

"Tell the truth. Don't lie about it."

"Anakin, what is all this? Why does it matter whether Obi-Wan knows or not?"

The words tumbled out of Anakin. "It matters because I'm not supposed to get upset about anything. If I do, Master Yoda won't let him teach me anymore, and I'll have left my mom and come all this way for nothing. My mom's still a slave, you know. I can't go back and free her unless I become a Jedi, and I won't be one if you tell. Promise me you won't tell."

Taima frowned. "This stuff about Master Yoda. Did Obi-Wan tell you that?"

"No. But I know it's true. Obi-Wan asks me about everything that goes on at school, making sure I don't fight with anybody. Even when kids make fun of me."

"Why would they make fun of you?"

Anakin shrugged. "I don't feel like talking or playing, sometimes."

"Hmm." Taima sat back into the couch. After a moment she said, "Do you miss your mother a little or a lot, Annie?"

"Well ... I don't guess I miss her as much at school. But I dream about her every night, even though I try not to. She told me I shouldn't look back, and Master Yoda said pretty much the same thing. But I still dream about her, every night, and I have to be careful, because if I started crying, it would wake up Obi-Wan."

Already the little boy's eyes were swimming with tears again, and Taima drew him into a hug.

After a moment she said, "Anakin, I know the Jedi are wise, and they learn a lot in their school that will help them, and so that's why they teach it. But they don't know everything. Nobody does. Know what I learned where I went to school?"

A pair of huge blue eyes looked back at her.

"I learned that sometimes the only way to look forward and be happy, is if you look backward and be sad first. And it's not going to hurt anybody if you do that. Okay?"

Anakin looked up at her and nodded, and she smothered him in another hug.

When Obi-Wan called for him half an hour later, she was already planning key phrases for her report. While Anakin is friendly and outgoing and, contrary to one report received by this investigator, loves his Jedi lessons and participates willingly in them, he is intimidated by the gravity and the newness of this environment, and by the pressure of the expectations placed upon him. He misses his home, his mother, and his friends, and this is not being dealt with adequately. Anakin is neither a normal Jedi child nor a normal human one, and the Jedi Council has failed to take this into account.

As her door closed behind Obi-Wan and her sad young friend, Taima crossed the room to her computer terminal and pressed the activation switch. Onto the screen floated the message that had started all this the night her system crashed, the one she had not been able to get off that screen no matter what she had tried. Unfortunately, its origin was unavailable, lost somewhere in the machine's convoluted innards.

The closing lines leaped out at her: ... although I revere the Jedi Order and its long service to the Republic, it saddens me to watch this child, torn from his mother and from the only home he has ever known and, yes, forced into a life of such formality, such rigidity, such incredible pressure at such a tender age. I fear for his happiness and his future. I implore you to intervene, lest irreparable harm be done.

Three evenings later she slipped into her court robes and stepped before the mirror on her office wall. Carefully she checked her pleasant round face and dark eyes for any imperfections in her makeup. Critically she eyed her dark hair, upswept into a formal pompadour.

Her colleague Krysia passed by her door, which Taima propped open more often than not, and did a double-take. "You're not going into court at seventeen hundred hours, are you?" she asked, checking the chronometer on her wrist.

"No, " said Taima, turning around. "I'm going to meet a Jedi master for a little chat about a certain young padawan."

"So the Council responded to your letter," said Krysia. "Who are you meeting?"

"The human Jedi master, Mace Windu," said Taima. "I figure he'll try to intimidate me with his Jedi robes and lightsaber and mystical Jedi calm. So I'm going to go looking like the Chief Prosecutor of the Child Welfare Board and intimidate him right back. Think it'll work?"

Then she laughed, as she often did when she was nervous. "I hate myself in these court robes. I always look like a pup tent with a head."

Master Windu, as she had expected, was not impressed in the least. They walked along an endless corridor in the Jedi Temple, lined on one side with windows. Outside, the air traffic darted by with the speed of the winged insects in Taima's stomach.

"He's grieving for his mother almost as if she died," Taima said, trying to summarize her main points. "And I suspect for Master Jinn as well, who did die. It's a very reasonable, normal reaction. How can you bear to make him ashamed of that?"

Ouch, she told herself, stop that. Accusations hinted at personal involvement and spelled death to her confident, professional image.

"It's more complicated than that," said Windu. "The boy was a slave."

"I know that. It has little to do with what I'm observing."

Mace Windu smiled a polite, dismissive smile and shook his head. "It has much to do with it." He paused. "Counselor Taima, this is a Jedi matter. I'm sorry, but it's outside your area of expertise."

"I recognize that. What I'm trying to say to you is that whatever Jedi talents Anakin may have, he was raised as if he were an ordinary human boy. And that's the mind his life up to this point has left him with, and that's the mind you are dealing with now."

Windu suppressed a sigh and turned patient eyes to hers. "Very well, then. What do you believe should be done?"

"I think it would be an excellent idea to send someone back to buy his mother out of slavery. Bring her here to live, and discontinue the boy's training until that can be done. It would be the best thing for the boy."

"That's out of the question," said Windu, shaking his head again. "Young Jedi must develop the proper ... " His gaze shifted behind her to the air traffic outside.

"This is difficult to explain to a non-Jedi. The proper ... perspective on the universe. The proper frame of mind. They are taken away from their parents specifically for that reason. With Anakin Skywalker, we're behind by a good nine years. It's out of the question. Impossible."

"From what Anakin tells me about his mother, her influence is just what you need. It's going to help Anakin, not hurt him. And if he's less sad, less lonely ... well, how is that a problem? Master Windu, I'm suggesting this as a formal proposal to the Council. I would like the opportunity to address the Council on his behalf."

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises there. What you're proposing is against the Jedi code. The Council would never consider it."

"They don't consider starting nine year old boys in training," argued Taima. "They made an exception once; they can make an exception now."

"I don't think so," said Windu doubtfully. "I'll present your request for an audience, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

A week later Taima had her answer. It came in the form of a message on her terminal at work: an electronic form letter, politely denying her request for an audience and graciously noting that the Jedi Council received hundreds of requests each week, and could not honor every one, et cetera. Et cetera.

Taima straightened in her chair, her mouth a grim hard line. "Erase message," she said, and sat staring at the blank screen.

"Wrong answer, Master Windu," she said finally. Then she garbled a fair imitation of Master Yoda.

"Dear me. A lawsuit this is. Oh, no."

The court system never did resolve matters quickly. Especially when it became necessary to file an appeal. Six weeks had passed before Taima, who ran a weekly lunch meeting to discuss current cases with her staff, had a definitive update for them on this one.

"And last of all," she said around a bite of cheese sandwich, "the Skywalker custody case."

"How did court go yesterday?" The human Leatha Toller, her newest social worker, looked up from a bowl of hot soup, resting it carefully in her lap.

Taima frowned. "It didn't. We were tossed out of court immediately, because Justice Seth Manolack doesn't believe the court system should have any jurisdiction in routine Jedi matters."

"Are you appealing?" asked the Sullustan litigator, Fulvous.

"Just did. First thing this morning." Taima cleared her throat and tried to ignore a sudden flurry of commotion at the other end of the hallway. Child Welfare was chronically underfunded and all the office spaces were cramped and crowded. The only place that afforded room for Taima's entire staff at once was the back hallway, close to the Chairman's office. They had learned to work through the distractions.

The lone footsteps tapping down the corridor barely made any impression on her consciousness until everyone looked up and over Taima's left shoulder. Taima turned to find the Chairman's secretary standing over her.

"There's an important visitor in the main office right now to discuss the Skywalker case. The Chairman would like you to please come and offer a short briefing."

"Good grief," said Taima, juggling sandwich and plastic printout flimsies. "I'm in a meeting. Can't you say I'm out to lunch?"

"Well, I could, but ..." the tall Rodian looked pointedly around at everyone. "You are right in the middle of the hallway, and we did walk past here, just now."

"Oh." Taima got up and put her sandwich and her data flimsies in her chair. "Good point."

"Sorry," said the Rodian sympathetically. "But it is a very important guest."

Taima brushed crumbs form her chest and turned to follow the secretary.

"Good afternoon, Chairman Chervenak," she said pleasantly as she entered the big office, using the middle aged Corellian's surname before the visitor as a matter of form. Then she turned to greet the visitor --

-- and had the rudest shock of her life.

There on the Chairman's tattered sofa, smiling at her like a nightmare come distressingly to life, sat the Nubian senator Palpatine, recently elected Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Senate.

"Aaack! Uugh!" stormed Taima that afternoon, stomping around her office, trying to vent the hostility. "Two hours! Two hours I had to sit there and suck up to that cobra! Oh, Chancellor, I'm so honored to meet you. Congratulations on your election, Chancellor," she minced in a high nasal whine. "Look at all this work on my desk! And now I'm going to have to take off and go home because I'm ... sick ... to ... my ... stomach!"

A small crowd was collecting in her doorway. "What's wrong with Taima?" asked Leatha, her brow furrowing delicately.

Shan, Taima's own secretary, answered her. "Senator Palpatine was here."

"Chancellor Palpatine," Krysia corrected slyly and laughed.

"Don't make me puke!" Taima snarled.

"What is the matter?" asked pretty Leatha in her soft voice.

Shan shook his head. "Don't get Taima started on Chancellor Palpatine. Taima hates Chancellor Palpatine. If you think this is bad, you should have heard her the day after he won the election."

"Did he recognize you?" Fulvous asked Taima.

"I don't think so. I've worked hard to get rid of my Nubian accent, and I wasn't much taller than Anakin Skywalker the last time we met. And I was quite a bit thinner."

"Please," said Leatha, blinking. "Can somebody explain what's going on?"

"Oh, no," said Shan. "Been nice, everyone, but I've got work to do!" And he disappeared into the outer office, which was barely more than a broom cubicle.

"Hey," said Fulvous. "I rather like getting her talking about this. It makes her so mad!"

"What does?"

Taima sat down and began to explain. "When I was a little girl on Naboo our esteemed Chancellor had a rough time in the political arena. He applied for more public service positions than I can count, ran for office more times than anyone can remember. He never got anywhere -- at the time, I mean. That was when the average Nubian citizen still had two grains of sense! He ended up teaching law and public speaking in a little college outside my home town of Carmona. You know what they say ... 'Those who can't do ...'"

"Unfortunately he ran against my father for mayor of Carmona. He challenged my father to a couple of public debates and aquitted himself rather well, and it became a close race.

"That was when my father found out some distressing information about him and decided to publicize it. It seems that halfway around the planet, in the city of Messiri where he grew up, young Palpatine was once severely disciplined by the secondary school he attended for embezzling about eight thousand Republic credits in his part time job as an office aide. My father's news caused quite a stir, partially because the sum was so large and partially because young Palpatine had been a model student in every way.

"It was very embarrassing for our candidate. While he was making feeble statements about how long ago it was and how terribly he regretted it, another story came out: When questioned about his actions at the time they took place, young Palpatine admitted that he was trying to save money because he was desperate to run away from home. It appeared that Palpatine's mother beat and slapped him and that she had kept him locked in the 'fresher for three days.

"In the middle of all this, candidate Palpatine married a young crippled girl in a repulsorchair. She had some rare wasting disease and wasn't expected to live but a couple more years. She actually lived about four years after that, I think. I always thought the real reason Palpatine married her was that her father was a bigwig in Theed. He was an advisor to Queen Andrey, and that connection would no doubt have been useful.

"So here was Palpatine, having risen above this crime of desperation to become a model citizen and marry this poor crippled girl in a repulsorchair. Of course the public forgave him, and he beat my father by a landslide.

"The press slung arrows at my father for starting the whole thing, and, ostensibly to put it all to rest, Palpatine came to our house one night after the election was over and made up with my father. He gave my father a gift: some strange, long, pointed thing. We didn't know what it was, but Palpatine assured my father that it was an ancient artifact and that it was very valuable. My father put it away in a closet and we forgot all about it.

"Ten years down the road. My father applied for a post in the diplomatic corps. Things appeared to be going well until somehow a rumor got started that my father was -- get this! -- a Sith magician. Two Jedi came to our house to investigate, and my father had to appear before the Council. It turned out that that thing Palpatine gave us was a Sithian Force pike, and my father had been under suspicion for years because he had gone to a museum exhibit once and attended a lecture or two on the history of the ancient Sith lords."

"Was your father charged with anything?" asked Leatha. "No. It was all a big misunderstanding. The Jedi Council apologized and sent my father home, but the damage had been done. My father sells insurance now. He could never get another government job."

"Oh," said Leatha. After a polite silence, she spoke again. "But ... don't you think you're being a little ... unfair to Chancellor Palpatine? He didn't do anything. He only gave your father a gift."

"Oh, didn't he do anything!" snapped Taima in return. "Once I joined Child Welfare it was a simple matter to pay a visit to our colleagues in Messiri -- the ones who investigated the whole embezzlement matter in the first place -- and find out all the juicy little details that somehow didn't make it into the press when I was ten. Palpatine's mother didn't abuse him. She only slapped him one time, and when I discovered what he'd said to her to provoke it, I think I'd have slapped my kid for that, too.

"The boy terrorized his younger sister. He helped himself to her possessions and lost them or broke them. He stole money from her, he told tales on her to get her in trouble with their mother. The three day refresher incident occurred after his sister walked in one day on Palpatine and a friend admiring a number of brand new blaster rifles she suspected they had stolen. The mother, Trista, informed the boy's grandfather and he disciplined young Palpatine.

"Shortly afterward Trista noticed her daughter spending way too much time in her room. When she questioned her about this, her daughter told her that young Palpatine, angry over the blaster incident, had ordered her to stay in her room because if he ever saw her again, he'd set her hair on fire. The child was terrified of him.

"The mother was at her wit's end. Palpatine had been a little tyrant his whole life. She couldn't discipline him. The only person who could control the boy at all was his maternal grandfather. He moved in and practically raised Palpatine. However, it seems he still got away with a few things when grandfather's back was turned. Or ... almost got away with a few things.

"I've often wondered how all this stayed buried during that big scandal with my father. How is it that the inquiring ladies and gentlemen of the press only ever unearthed the cause of that investigation, and not its results? And who started such a rumor about my father in the first place? If the whole truth had come out during that election, it would have ruined Palpatine for good. Who else knew about that Force pike? Even we didn't know what it was.

"When I went to Messiri to research all this, I didn't find one scrap of printed material anywhere, or stored anywhere in Child Welfare's computer banks. I talked and searched until I found the original investigators, and they told me about the case. I know Palpatine engineered that whole scandal with my father, and he's covered his tracks very well."

Leatha frowned. "I think you are making a very large leap, Taima," she said, half scolding.

Taima folded her hands on her desk. "Well, you're entitled to your opinion," she said. "And I'm entitled to mine."

There was an awkward silence. At last Fulvous asked, "Well, what was he here for? What did he want?"

"Oh." Taima glanced down and picked up a few forgotten printouts on her desk. "He wanted to offer us some assistance. He had his staff research some legal precedents for us." She held them up stiffly, dangling them from one corner between thumb and forefinger, as if they smelled bad. "Unfortunately it looks as if they might actually be of some real help. And he advised us to withdraw our case from the Coruscant system court and refile it in First Galactic court."

Fulvous let out a low whistle. "That would make it a landmark case. Lots of attention. Very embarrassing for the Jedi order. I never even considered it, but it could be advantageous to do that. Seems our esteemed Chancellor is very much on the ball, here."

Taima laughed. "More than likely it's just that those are the judges he's got paid off!" She, Fulvous, and Krysia laughed; Leatha did not.

After a moment Leatha asked, "Did he say why he was interested in the matter in the first place?"

Taima sobered abruptly. "Come to think of it," she said, "no."

Dislike it though she might, in the end Taima had to admit that the Chancellor's suggestions were good ones. Grudgingly she withdrew her case, and refiled in First Galactic court as Palpatine had suggested.

And then she held her breath and waited for the explosion. In spite of all the legal wrangling, until now Obi-Wan Kenobi had still allowed the boy to visit her and apparently had said nothing to him of their difficulties. He obviously did not wish to upset Anakin, and whatever she thought of Kenobi's youth and inexperience, Taima had to admire him for that.

But she was determined to command the Council's attention this time. Her suit contained an injunction to stop the boy's training until the case could be heard. Obi-Wan could not help but explain this to Anakin, and Taima was not looking forward to the day when he did.

As Fulvous and the Chancellor had predicted, the case was a headliner. The Jedi Order sued by the Board of Child Welfare over its treatment of the young hero of Naboo! It was on every viewscreen, every news broadcast as Taima made her way home the evening the story broke. She took an air taxi to her apartment instead of walking, and slipped in the service entrance to avoid several people, obviously members of the press, whom she noticed loitering at the lobby door.

She closed her eyes in the lift and sighed, hoping that Tatooine really was as isolated as she had heard. Oh, how awful it would be if this news reached the boy's mother and made her worry needlessly, before Taima could make it all pay off.

The lift doors opened; she swallowed with a gulp. Far down the corridor, Obi-Wan himself was walking along with Anakin in tow.

Anakin turned and saw her. He came running toward her, his little face contorted with fury.

"I hate you! I hate you!" His little voice rang from the walls. "Why did you do it?" He reached her and stopped, panting furiously, cheeks flushed. He pointed at her accusingly. "I thought you were my friend!"

Obi-Wan appeared behind him and caught him by the shoulders. "Anakin," he hushed.

Taima stepped off the lift and got down on her knees before Anakin, silencing his young mentor with a glance. "It's okay," she told Obi-Wan. "I don't blame the boy for being angry with me. I'd be upset, too, in his place."

Kenobi was giving her that severe, penetrating glare of a newly created Jedi knight who wasn't about to be bested in fair combat, and as he inhaled sharply to speak to her, she turned her attention to Anakin and moved to cut Kenobi off.

"Anakin, I am your friend. I'm not trying to end your training --"

"But you just did!" he shouted out. Around them doors whispered open and curious neighbors peered out at the commotion.

"It was the only way I could get the Council to listen to something important I have to say," she said calmly. "I'm trying to do something good here, Anakin. I can't explain it now, but once the masters will listen to me, this will all be over. You're still going to be a Jedi, Annie. Nothing's going to change that."

"What do you know?!" the boy shouted.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan turned the child around to face him. "This is not the way. I will handle this. Go home and wait for me." He turned to Taima. "This is better discussed with me, not him."

Taima made a sour face at that, and addressed the young knight with a comment she otherwise would never have made in front of the boy.

"Nonsense," she said. "Anakin deserves an answer from me, and I'm trying to answer him as honestly as I can." She got to her feet. "You'll say that I don't understand the Jedi teaching about anger, and it's true: I don't. But here in the real world, mature people get angry and we get over it."

She looked down at Anakin. "Annie, you're just scared because you don't know what's going on. If you want to come and talk to me, then I'll explain it to you."

The child made a visible effort to calm himself. "I don't want to go anywhere with you." Then he scowled again. "I can't believe you filed for custody of me."

Taima sighed. "I didn't personally, Annie. The department -- " she said, and stopped. A lengthy explanation of departmental procedure was not going to help at all.

Anakin looked up at her and announced, "I'd rather live with Chancellor Palpatine than you."

Taima started to snap, "Bite your tongue, little Skywalker!" but his look, his tone, stopped her. As if living with Chancellor Palpatine was, in fact, a very real possibility.

She looked from the boy to Obi-Wan. "What?"

"You haven't heard?" asked Obi-Wan. "Chancellor Palpatine petitioned the court for guardianship of the boy this afternoon."

The news floored Taima, pulling her from the heat of the moment. She relaxed backward against the doorjamb, bewildered. "How strange," she whispered. Her glance at Obi-Wan spoke volumes: Do you have any idea why?

His answering look was bitter. If I did, I wouldn't share it with you.

He patted Anakin gently on the shoulder. "Come, young padawan," he said, making it evident in his voice that he still considered the child so. With a frosty half bow to Taima, he turned and led the boy away.

Taima entered her apartment, gravely unsettled at a turn of events she simply could not comprehend. She stood in her doorway, dumbfounded.

Her comm buzzed and she turned mindlessly to answer it. A moment later she let out a whoop of triumph.

She had her audience with the Jedi Council. Four days hence, in the big round chamber. Their turf, of course.

No matter. She would be ready.

The day before her audience she was summoned to the Chairman's office once again. A pair of blue-garbed Senate guards flanking the door let her know what she was in for.

Chancellor Palpatine held court in the inner office, haranguing her boss in a tone that was as insistent as it was friendly.

"-- don't intend to pull rank, I assure you," he was saying. "But I do have hopes of adopting the boy, and it's been more difficult to restrain my enthusiasm than I might have thought. A little cooperation -- "

He stopped and turned as Taima entered the room. "Counselor Taima," he said with a pleasant smile. "How nice to see you again."

Taima smiled her best smile. "" A lovely greeting, but she delivered it in perfect Nubian, along with an exaggerated bow: a veiled insult that her boss would never catch.

She straightened to look at Palpatine. The wheaten brows twitched on the word "honored," but the rest was completely lost on him, she was sure. He frowned and did not answer her.

Chervenak was quick to scold her. "Taima, you never told me of our Chancellor's generosity to the department regarding this important case. I must admit I found myself quite speechless to hear of it."

She turned. "I'm sorry, Chairman," she smiled, "but I've been quite busy. Skywalker isn't my only case, as you know, and I'm preparing for my audience with the Council tomorrow."

"Against our litigator's advice, I'm told," interjected Chervenak.

Palpatine moved smoothly in: "I'm well aware of the demands on your time, Counselor, hence my many offers of assistance. I had hoped you might find them useful." He finished with the hint of a doubtful little quaver in his voice, his arms open in an empty-handed gesture: I was only trying to help.

Taima advanced on him with a feral smile. "I not only posses a law degree but also one in social work, and I was at the top of my class at both. I'm the youngest person to be appointed Chief Prosecutor here in twenty years, and the only one who's ever done her own case work. Moreover, you've never argued a single case in court, sir, and I've done well over a hundred. I hope you're not suggesting I'm not capable of handling this case."

Palpatine's face tightened into a hard mask. "Counselor, don't make me angry," he said severely. "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

Her retort slipped out before she could think better of it. "Chancellor Palpatine, I don't like you already!"

"Counselor, that will be enough!" thundered the Chairman.

At that point Palpatine turned to him with a gracious smile. "It truly is all right. This is between Counselor Taima and myself. Chairman, may I speak with the Counselor alone for a moment?"

Chervenak glanced warily at Taima as if to say, What horrible thing are you about to do or say next? Then he looked back at the Chancellor -- who stood firm, smiling but unyielding -- and capitulated.

"Of course," he rasped. He gave Palpatine a small bow and departed.

Taima braced herself as the crafty old pettifogger turned to face her.

He smiled sadly and shook his head. "Taima," he began, his resonant voice soft now and pleasant. "Of course I know what this is really all about. Your objections to me have very little to do with the boy Skywalker." He paused, and there came that wounded little quaver again. "I can't understand it ... it was all so long ago. I wasn't responsible for the press's attack on your father during that awful campaign. I did what I could to stop that, after it all got so out of hand. Can't you forgive me my part in that, however small?"

So hurt and innocent; Taima had to hand it to him. Rather than antagonize him by voicing indictments for which she lacked real proof, she decided to change the subject.

"So. You recognized me."

"Of course," he said, still smiling, still pleasant. "You don't think I'd pursue an issue of such importance to me without knowing something of everyone involved, do you?"

"Important." Taima seized on the word. "Why is this so important to you anyway? You've never been a very strong advocate for the young child, Chancellor. I'm quite familiar with your voting record."

That wounded quaver suddenly sounded more like a bewildered stammer. "W-well, the boy was instrumental in saving my entire home planet from an invasion -- yours, too! Of course I have an interest here!"

"You?" Taima spat back. "You? Since when do you have any interest? You don't care about our homeland! Again I say, I'm quite familiar with your voting record. And just listen to yourself! You don't even speak one word of Nubian. You don't even sound Nubian!"

"Come now, Taima," Palpatine scoffed, sounding gentle and paternal. "We've both lived off-world for a long time. You're sounding less like our fair Queen these days yourself."

Taima colored, embarrassed at herself for letting such a childish remark slip through. She swallowed, watching that smiling cobra forgive her with his eyes, graciously letting her save face.

She tried again, from somewhere below her righteous pedestal this time. "Chancellor," she said reasonably, "you don't even know this child. I can't allow anyone to adopt a child out of some vague sense of gratitude or obligation ... or admiration. You can't be awarded guardianship without my endorsement, and I can't in good conscience give it to you. You've never spent any time with Anakin. You don't feel anything for the boy personally. You're fifty-three years old; you've never raised a child. You really have so little idea what parenthood means."

The blue gaze fell to the worn carpet, and the distinguished brow furrowed as though its owner were considering very carefully what he was about to say.

After a moment Palpatine's eyes met hers. "There are few who know this, Counselor," he said slowly, "but I have raised a child."

"What?" Taima said. "When was this? I never heard anything of this."

The Chancellor turned a little away from her. Chervenak had a book on his desk, an old-fashioned paper bound book of reproductions of primitive art. The volume was very old and valuable, and Palpatine's hand reached out to graze its cover as he spoke.

"It was a long time ago. The child came to me when he was twelve years old. It was a private arrangement with his parents. They were in ... reduced circumstances, very difficult. I provided for the boy, arranged for his schooling. He spent a great deal of time with me, especially after his parents passed on. My dear wife was unable to have children, as you know, and I rather enjoyed his company. It was a ... close relationship."

"One no one's ever heard of, until now."

Palpatine glanced at her over his shoulder, defensively. "One doesn't do these things to advertise them in the press, Counselor."

"I'd never know that, by the lavish and loving attention you're receiving over your petition to adopt Anakin Skywalker."

"Unfortunate, that," Palpatine mused, his attention focused on the book. "As I am so new in my current position, such close scrutiny can hardly be avoided."

Taima nodded, playing along. "I see." She folded her arms across her chest. "Do you think there's any possibility that I might interview this ward, to help me evaluate your suitabililty as a parent?"

Palpatine frowned down at the book. "I'm sorry I must tell you he is no longer among the living. A terrible accident happened. It was ... some time ago."

The soft vibrato died away completely. Palpatine stood absently stroking the worn fabric binding, as if Taima were not even there.

She bridled, certain that she was being manipulated. "I'm sorry," she said coolly, with a subtle contempt.

He flashed her a lightning blue glare, irritated, and continued to admire the bound volume. "It's true, I sometimes found the responsibility a bit burdensome in my youth," he said. "But I've grown older now, had some of the inevitable losses in my life. Perhaps I've come to appreciate a bit more the value of companionship. Of leaving something lasting behind." He stared down at the book, expressionless, as if he were talking to it. One hand still tenderly stroked its cover. Taima observed him quietly as the silence stood in the room.

He roused himself with an effort and looked at her. "At any rate, it's my understanding the boy is none too fond of you these days. If this drags on much longer the court will place him in a foster home until it's resolved. What do you plan to do, take him in yourself? I don't imagine any peace in your home for a good many months if you do.

"The boy doesn't know me well, it's true, but he does know me. Personally, I believe he would do best at the palace in Theed -- and the Queen has expressed an interest to me, privately -- but she isn't of age. If we must uproot him again, we should place him in a stable environment, a neutral one. With a guardian with whom he has no long-standing quarrel."

Two thoughts blazed through Taima's mind: one, How did he hear how Anakin reacted to all this? and two, I don't like it, but he's right. She glared at him and said nothing.

Palpatine ran a weary hand through his thick wheaten hair. "Please, Counselor. Can we not let bygones be bygones? For now, at least. For the sake of the boy."

Taima glared at him again and sighed. "I'm not making any recommendation for guardianship now. Not until I've spoken to the Council."

"That does seem ill-advised, with a case against them pending," Palpatine said. "What is it you wish to discuss with them?"

Taima offered him a tight-lipped smile. "That's between me and the Council," she said.

The Council chamber was huge. It was round and filled with light and taller than any other building in the hemisphere, and the air traffic skirted around it as if it were in orbit. Like tiny satellites orbiting the sun.

Taima had to address the Council from the center of the room. The Jedi masters sat in a ring at the perimeter, surrounding her; she wouldn't even be able to see all of them at once. The whole arrangement reminded her of an old-fashioned target -- with Taima herself right in the bull's eye.

It did her no good to remind herself that they were Jedi and they meant her no harm as she stood in the doorway, clad in her most formal court robes, waiting to be called into the circle. The primal part of her brain was already reacting very differently. Thank heavens, I'm a big woman, she thought suddenly. At least I don't have to look as puny and weak as I feel. Then she caught sight of little Anakin Skywalker standing before Obi-Wan, who had his back pressed against one of the giant windows across the room.

The gruff voice of Master Yoda called her name and she straightened and strode forward. Just remember what you're here for, she told herself, stopping in the center of the circle.

She stifled an impulse to bow. "Master Yoda, members of the Jedi Council," she began, staring evenly into Yoda's green eyes. "I bid you good morning. Before we begin, I must insist that Padawan Skywalker be escorted from the room."

"My masters, this directly affects Anakin's future," pointed out Obi-Wan from the windows. "Of course he wishes to be present, and he has a right to be."

"I'm afraid I must insist," said Taima, politely but firmly. "If he remains, Masters, there will be no discussion."

Yoda and Master Windu turned and looked at one another.

At last Yoda said, "Very well. Obi-Wan, escort Anakin into the corridor, you will."

A flash of panic: Chancellor Palpatine had shown up, claiming to have unrelated business in the building, and, barred from entering the round chamber, was also waiting in the corridor. The last thing Taima wanted was to give him a quiet hour or two alone with Anakin Skywalker. "N-no!" she choked, as everyone she could see frowned at her. "Anyplace but the corridor."

Mace Windu raised patient eyebrows at her. "Pray explain, Counselor."

Too bad she couldn't tell them the truth. She imagined their faces if she were to say, "Because your new Chancellor is a bastard, and I don't want him within fifty yards of Anakin at any time!" Instead she swallowed and said, "There's press out there."

Yoda gave her a long, penetrating stare. "To the arboretum you will take him, then," he said to Obi-Wan.

Kenobi bowed reluctantly and escorted Anakin out.

Taima turned, taking in the entire circle. "Well, Masters," she began. "You summoned me. How can I be of assistance?"

"I believe it was you who first requested an audience with us," said Master Adi Gallia. Taima could not look at her without also seeing Master Yarael Poof, whose impossibly long neck waved steadily back and forth, back and forth. The constant motion at the periphery of her vision almost drove Taima mad. If he doesn't stop it I'm going to run over there and strangle him, she thought.

Instantly the motion stopped and the long thin neck held perfectly still.

Oops. Well, that was unnerving.

She tried to keep her attention on her task. She smiled and raised her voice to address the room.

"Now that I have your attention, I'd like to inform you all that the concerns I brought to Master Windu haven't changed. I'm worried about this little boy, Masters, and as you have now seen, I'm willing to do whatever I have to do to ensure that my concerns are addressed."

Master Yaddle, a younger, female version of Yoda, spoke up. "Counselor, a stranger to the Force you are. Realize we do, that our customs strange and even frightening to you may seem. But tested and proven they are, for many thousands of students ... over many hundreds of years. Harm the boy, they will not. Invite you we do, to come, see, observe ... learn, for yourself. Is that not what your investigators do as a matter of course? For understand our ways, you do not."

Taima pounced. "You're ... absolutely ... right," she said, punctuating every word with a jab of her index finger. "You're absolutely right. I don't understand what you do here. How could I?" She shrugged her shoulders, throwing her arms out slightly. Then a theatrical pause; she was warming to her speech.

"But I understand that you are failing in it when the child's schoolteachers inform me that he's so withdrawn at times that the other children tease him. I understand that you are failing when the boy bursts into tears in my apartment, and then becomes frantic lest any of you find out." It was so hard not to be able to address all of them at once. Master Eeth Koth had thus far seen nothing but her back. She turned to face him and continued.

"I realize I suffer from a certain failure of perspective here. But, Masters, so do you! Am I to understand that you took a nine year old human child away from his mother and his home, flew him light years across the galaxy into this --" she threw her arm out to indicate the endless city below them and the hundreds of circling airships -- "stood him in the middle of this circle and fired questions at him for four solid hours -- " she paused for effect -- "and then rebuked him for feeling afraid? Masters, I've clawed my way through eight years of higher learning. I've passed about a hundred exams in my time. I supervise a staff of thirty, and I've argued more court cases than I can count. If I'm intimidated standing in the middle of this circle, imagine how this must seem to a nine year old slave from Tatooine!"

She turned; it was time to face somebody else. "But you can't; that's just it. I submit that it is just this failure -- of imagination, if you will -- that is hurting Anakin Skywalker."

"Intimidating?" scoffed Master Yoda, off to her left. "Frightening, we are not."

"How would you know?" Taima scoffed back, turning again. "It's been eight hundred years since you were a child." She stopped, and for a moment she and Yoda stared at one another, appraising.

"Masters," she said wearily. "It's true; I know nothing about the Jedi Order. But I know all about little nine year old boys, and like it or not, that is what you are dealing with. Anakin's mother is not here to act in the best interests of this child, and I must do it in her place. I will do it in her place ... even if the good intentions from which I must protect him happen to be yours."

Slightly to her right, Master Windu narrowed his dark eyes and leaned forward as if he were irritated at her bold display. A flutter spread around the circle like a ripple in a pond; apparently the others were none too pleased, either. Only Yoda relaxed back into his chair, eyes half closed as if he were smiling at her. Taima sensed she had made a friend.

Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded once, on her left. She turned. "So, Counselor, what would you like us to do? I presume you still have a request, or suggestion?"

"Indeed I do," she responded. "But I hate to have to recruit a child psychologist and spend hours in the temple observing -- and intruding -- when one act would remedy the situation more than anything else I might suggest."

Mundi looked over at Windu as if to say, And here it comes. "And that is?"

"It's nothing you haven't heard before. Send a representative to Tatooine to buy the boy's mother out of slavery. Bring her here and let Anakin live with her, and The Board of Child Welfare will be happy to drop its suit against you. Indeed, we would have no other choice."

"Impossible," said Master Oppo Rancisis, peering out at her from his waterfall of white hair. "Do you know how much it would cost a slave owner to buy another girl in Mos Espa? Eighty thousand wupiupi. Do you have sixty thousand Republic credits?"

Taima turned around again; she was beginning to feel like a spinning top. "No, but from the looks of this building, someone does. How do you pay the water bill and the light bill? And I must point out that when you compare the cost of my proposal to the cost of a lengthy battle in court, you'll probably find that you're saving money by sending someone back for Shmi Skywalker."

Mace Windu spoke from behind her, forcing her to turn yet again. "Our temple is maintained by a trust fund -- an old and carefully managed one -- and by donations. You must be aware that individual Jedi never accept payment for the work they do. Ours is not a wealthy order, Counselor."

"Nevertheless, you were able somehow to send Qui-Gon Jinn on his last mission with twenty thousand Republic credits at his disposal. And I observe that individual Jedi do possess the means to feed and clothe themselves, and there are a good many of you." Some sarcasm crept into her voice, and she let it stay there. "Perhaps you can pass a hat."

"Not every parent is going to prove a hindrance to your efforts to teach these children. I truly believe Shmi will help smooth the way here, with Anakin and for Anakin. If I didn't, I wouldn't put everyone through this. The bottom line is, this is for Anakin. It's what the boy needs. That's my job, and yours; to do what this boy needs.

"Now, this can be easily accomplished, or it can be difficult," Taima said. She felt completely in command now as she rotated slowly to take in everyone in the circle one last time. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here mainly as a courtesy. For, in this situation, I have the trump card. Perhaps as Jedi you aren't used to that, but here it is: If you do not accommodate the concerns I've brought before you in some fashion, the Board will pursue this case. I assure you, I can keep this tied up in court until this child is twenty. And I will, if I have to. And that would benefit no one," she finished, gazing once again into the green eyes of Master Yoda. "So please. Think it over. Anakin Skywalker is neither a normal human nor a normal Jedi, and he has special needs. Please consider them. That is all I have to say," she concluded, and bowed to Yoda, pleased with herself.

Ki-Adi-Mundi opened his mouth to speak; Yoda glanced over, caught his eye, and made a small gesture with one three-fingered hand. Mundi paused courteously.

Yoda blinked slowly. "Impressed we are, with your concern for this boy. Discuss we will, how best to proceed. Do not worry that we have not heard, or that understand we do not." He paused to look around the circle. "Contact you we will, when discussed this we have. Acceptable to you, is this?"

Taima stepped toward him and thanked him with a small but gracious curtsy. "Of course it is," she said. "It's all I wanted ... all I ever wanted."

"Then dismissed you are. Speak again, we will."

"Thank you, Masters." Taima backed toward the door enough to allow her to bow once to all of them, then turned and went out. As she did so, she heard Yoda behind her, apparently speaking into a comlink.

"Obi-Wan. Bring the boy you will, for a short moment, then home you will send him. Much we have to discuss."

Taima felt a rush of exhilaration as the great doors closed behind her, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders. There was some rapport here now. There was a good chance it would lead to something.

She descended some stairs and turned a corner to see Chancellor Palpatine just ahead of her, with two Senate guards hovering close by. His back was toward her. Just then, Obi-Wan and Anakin appeared far down the corridor, puncturing Taima's hopeful mood.

They came down the great hallway towards Palpatine, hugging the left wall. Palpatine ruffled on the right, adjusting his long chancellor's robes like a shining blue bird preening its feathers, preparing to approach them. Taima ducked back behind the corner and peered around to watch.

The Chancellor turned his left side to Taima and moved to intercept them. Dutifully Obi-Wan stopped and bowed; Anakin did the same. Without prompting, Taima noticed. The boy had beautiful manners.

Palpatine nodded to Kenobi and then turned to the young padawan with a fond, almost tender, smile.

"Hello, Anakin," he said pleasantly. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes, sir," said Anakin. "You're Chancellor Palpatine."

"That's right," said the Chancellor fondly, and then he stepped back, gathered up his robes, and gave them a quick shake, so that they settled gracefully around him as he lowered himself to his knees.

"I have something for you," he said, fumbling in a pocket. "Ah. Here it is." He held out a tiny metal cube. "This is a holographic message for you from Queen Amidala. She's quite anxious to know how you're getting on. She's very fond of you."

Anakin reached out slowly and took the cube. "Thank you, sir."

"It's harder for me to get home these days, but I do plan on going back to Theed sometime very soon. Perhaps someday I'll be able to take you with me." He paused and let the sentence hang in the air for a moment. Obi-Wan frowned; Palpatine ignored him. Then he continued: "I can carry a reply back for you, if you would like."

"Oh, yes, sir," Anakin beamed. "Thank you."

The Chancellor grinned. "Very well, then. Consider it done." He rose and turned to go. "Mind your master, young padawan."

"Yes, sir," said Anakin.

A few steps away Palpatine stopped and turned around. "Oh! I forgot ..." and then he turned and came back, settling once again on his knees to address the boy.

"I have something for you, too," he said. From another pocket he brought out a palm-sized, clear, hollow sphere filled with a pinkish liquid. "I have a Jedi master who works for me. Did you know that?"

"No, sir."

"Well, I do, and he once gave me this. It's a Jedi toy that he enjoyed at your age. I appreciated the gift, of course, but I have no use for it other than as a desk ornament, and it occurred to me --" he held out the sphere -- "that you might like it very much."

Anakin reached out again, brow furrowed, mystified. He drew it close and peered at it. "What does it do?"

"Ah," said the older man with a twinkle in his eye. "It's not what it does. It's what you do. If you concentrate very hard, you can made a picture inside of it."

"I can?" asked Anakin, entranced.

"Yes, indeed. Try it."

Anakin frowned down at the toy. After a moment he said, "Maybe Obi-Wan can show me how." "Oh, I'm sure you can do it, Anakin," replied the older man in a friendly tone. "Go on ... try it again."

Anakin frowned again, concentrating harder, and suddenly a smile lit his wide blue eyes like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. The liquid swirled in the sphere and turned a dark blue, and from her hiding place down the corridor, Taima could just make out a white Nubian cruiser in the center of the sphere.

"It works," Anakin breathed, elated. He looked earnestly back at Palpatine, and, as if on cue, they both smiled at exactly the same time.

"Thank you, sir!"

The Chancellor laughed and rose to his feet, and gave the boy an affectionate pat. "You're welcome, Anakin. I hope we meet again soon." He turned and walked away, and Anakin stared after him.

"Anakin," whispered Obi-Wan and prodded the boy forward. "We mustn't keep the masters waiting." Anakin started down the hallway, but he turned back to look once again after Palpatine, who glanced over his own shoulder for a last look at him.

Anakin and Obi-Wan passed Taima without a word, and Palpatine saw her watching and scowled at her. She didn't speak, and after a moment he crossed the floor to meet her.

"Very well, then, if you won't speak to me, I'll come and speak to you," he said crossly, and Taima suddenly felt very confused. He and the boy certainly seemed to take to one another, and the way he had instinctively lowered himself to the child's level to talk to him had impressed her.

She held back a sigh and swallowed her rancor for the moment. "You're very good with him," she offered.

He eyed her patiently, recovering his good humor. "Would I be remiss in asking you how your meeting went?"

She sighed. "No, of course not. It went ... well, I think. They're listening to me now, and that's good." She paused, reflected. "At least, some of them are listening to me now."

Palpatine raised his brows at her quizzically and waited for more.

Suddenly she decided to tell him. He was sincerely interested in the boy, and she might as well accept that. Besides ...

"Chancellor," she said, "I may reconsider your offer. I'm afraid I've handed the Jedi Council an ultimatum. If they don't go for this, I may need your help, after all. I need to be able to keep this tied up in court for as long as I possibly can ... any way I possibly can."

She watched the older man's face change -- fascinated, concerned. "Of course you have my support, Counselor, you know that. Why don't we talk about it as I give you a ride back to your office?"

I can't believe I'm doing this. "Thank you."

As they started off down the corridor, Palpatine said, "Of course, it would help me if I knew what exactly was your proposition. What have you asked the Council to do?"

Taima wavered; she had this sudden feeling she shouldn't tell. She stopped, considered.

Nonsense, she thought finally, what could it possibly hurt? And if they don't go for it, I'm going to have to be formidable in court to eventually persuade them otherwise. I'm going to need all the help I can get. Who better than this crafty old man?

And so she opened her mouth, and began to tell him all about Shmi Skywalker.

At this time, it appears that an agreement will be reached in short order and a foster home for Anakin will prove to be unnecessary. However, should the court insist, I believe that Supreme Chancellor Palpatine

Taima paused over her datapad. I can't believe I'm about to write this, she thought.

Her friend Trelane interrupted her. A thin, quiet man with brown hair and kind blue eyes, he sat hunched over her computer, which was spread out in pieces on her kitchen table. Behind him evening darkened the sky outside her window, and the glowing air taxis hurried silently past.

"So, what's going to happen with the kid? Are you going to keep trashing the Jedi in the news reports, or are they going to give him up?"

"It's not like that at all," said Taima, grateful for the distraction. "I'm not trashing the Jedi Council. The press is doing that, and it's ridiculous, because we haven't released anything for them to go on. It's all speculation and innuendo. Awful." Taima wrinkled her nose. "But I think it'll all be over soon. I couldn't believe this at all," she continued, "but Chancellor Palpatine actually offered to put up thirty thousand credits of his own money if the Council voted to send someone back to Tatooine for Shmi Skywalker. They've already got the twenty thousand that Qui-Gon Jinn had and didn't spend. If the Jedi Council can just find another ten thousand, they'll have a pretty good sum to bargain with. I don't think that slave owner will be too unreasonable; the boy was more valuable to him than the mother. I think the Council will find the credits. It's just a matter of time."

"Well, that's good," Trelane remarked, adjusting a tiny knob and tapping a few keys. "Poor kid. It's about time something went right for him."

Suddenly the message, the anonymous message about Anakin which had been stuck on the screen for weeks, disappeared, and the monitor went blank.

"Hey!" said Trelane. "We're getting somewhere."

Indeed, Trelane had already gotten a good deal accomplished in the weeks since Anakin had cried in Taima's arms. The message contained a virus which had seriously disabled Taima's machine. It had taken this long to get everything working again.

"Good." Taima bowed her head and studied the report on her datapad, looking for any grammatical errors before she finished this final sentence.

"Now that we actually got everything back," said Trelane, "let's see if we can find out who did this."

"Can we?" asked Taima. It would be interesting to know who had believed she wouldn't take their complaint seriously unless it hung forever on her screen, even as she tossed her ruined terminal into the compactor.

"We'll see. These Tamarian routers have some amazing sniffer programs installed. Maybe we can trace -- "

Taima stared at the screen as he clicked the keys. Suddenly it went blank again, and then --

"What?!" said Trelane. "Fifty different people sent the message? No, wait -- " the information scrolled on the screen. "Good grief," he said. "This thing went fifty different places before it came here. Most routers won't even trace it back that far."

Taima got up. "Why would anybody do that?"

"This person really didn't want to be identified," said Trelane. "Maybe it's someone in the Jedi Temple who didn't want the Council to know they squealed."

"I never thought of that. I always figured it was one of Anakin's schoolteachers. Although, when I interviewed them, I never could guess which one."

A pause. "No wonder," said Trelane. "Look. Your initial complaint originated in the Senate office building."

"What!?" Taima dropped the datapad on her couch and hurried to lean over her friend's shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me."

Trelane pointed to the last line of data. Sure enough ...

An icy dread broke over Taima and a tight, airless sensation filled her chest, as though Palpatine himself had stolen up behind her and wrapped steel-cold hands around her throat.

"Can you get a name?"

Trelane worked a few moments. "No. No name."

"How about ... " Taima thought for a second. "What about a computer? Can you pin it down to a specific terminal?"

"Now that, I should be able to do," said Trelane, and within moments the information was on the screen. "All we need is terminal assignments for the Senate offices, and we can figure out what office it came from."

Taima's mouth went dry and a shiver lanced straight through her. She swallowed. "No need to do that. I know where this came from." She turned and walked numbly back to the couch, staring down at the datapad. "I can't believe he started this. I can't believe he sent me on this witch hunt!"

Trelane turned in his chair. "Who? The Chancellor?"

"Oh, yes." A hard knot of anger was forming in Taima's stomach; she was actually beginning to feel a little nauseous. "He wants this little boy. He wants him very, very badly."

Trelane watched her dubiously. "Well, Taima," he said at last, "he's the Supreme Chancellor of the entire Republic, you know. Anakin could end up with a lot worse as an adoptive parent. And you did investigate, and you did find problems. He probably just didn't feel comfortable making the complaint himself."

"You bet he didn't!" Taima whirled on Trelane as if he were Palpatine himself. "Everything in that message is totally untrue, and a hundred times worse than the problems I actually did find. And all those allegations are bouncing around in the news now!" She picked up the datapad, shaking with anger, and deleted her report with trembling fingers. Suddenly she hurled the pad to the floor in fury.

"I can't believe I trusted him! I can't believe I actually let that snake take me in like this!" She turned, wild-eyed, and began pacing the floor like a madwoman. Trelane stared at her.

"He's never going to get Anakin now!" she growled. "Never, never, not while I've got breath in my body! He's not going to do this to Anakin, and he's not going to do this to the Council, and he's not going to do this to me!"

"Taima," protested Trelane. "Taima, come on!"

She turned to face him. "Trelane, you come on! What does this look like to you? If this is what he's going to do to get the child, how is he going to raise him?!"

Trelane slumped thoughtfully in his seat. "Yeah, you've got a point there," he said.

Taima began pacing again. "Now, I need to stay alive, first of all, and I need to keep my job. When he finds out I'm advising the court against his guardianship, he is not going to be happy. No court can grant him custody if I do that, and it'll be impossible to overturn it. As long as I'm here and in good standing, I can defend my decision."

"Taima," said Trelane. "He's a politician, not a common gangster."

"Oh, yeah?" she said. "Ask my father sometime what happens when you cross 'Senator' Palpatine." She shook her head and began pacing again. "I've got to ensure somehow that I'm going to stay where I am. I've got to do it!"

She stopped. "You know what I need? I need to defend my decision right now. I need to make a pre-emptive strike. When I got in from work, there were reporters in the lobby. Were they still there when you got here?"

"Yeah," said Trelane. "Yeah, they were."

"I think I'm going to take a little walk," said Taima. "You know, I bet those reporters can get the terminal layout for the Senate offices easily enough. That's right up their alley."

She grinned a slow, evil grin. "I'm going to fix your air taxi, old man," she said to the air. "I'm going to fix you real good."

Morning. Chancellor Palpatine ran a brush through his thick, curly hair, studying his reflection in his gilded bedroom mirror. His sleeping companion loitered temptingly in the doorway, reflected over his shoulder. Green eyes, long red hair ... beautiful, beautiful legs under that tasteful gown. She looked as good this morning as she had last night, and there weren't many women Palpatine could say that for. A savage urge struck him to turn around, motion her over, and be a little late for chambers this morning, but he pushed it aside with a regretful sigh. A mere senator could get away with that from time to time, but when the Chancellor was late, everyone noticed.

Even the Chancellorship had its drawbacks.

"Hadn't you better be off, my dear?" he prompted, reaching to fasten his high collar behind his neck. His red-haired angel slipped up behind him and did it for him.

Her soft lips grazed his cheek, his ear. "Oh, darling," she pouted, "can't I walk downstairs with you even once?"

Palpatine had made it a hard and fast rule never to be seen, or, the Force forbid it, holographed with any of his comely lady friends. There were simply too many of them, and it wouldn't have done his straightlaced, grandfatherly image any good at all.

Still ... this little beauty deserved some small token of his regard -- not every woman did -- and if this small gesture made her happy, well ... it was only one morning, after all.

He turned his head and smiled and gave her a kiss. "Hadn't you better button that collar a little higher, then?"

She smiled and complied and kissed him back.

"I'll drop you at your apartment, dear," he said.

Ten minutes later, the main door to the plaza opened straight into hell. Sixty beings with holocams jumped at Palpatine like mantises after a fly. Beyond them surged a sea of reporters armed only with datapads. There wasn't a bare patch of pavement to be seen anywhere; shouts of "There he is!" and the trampling of hundreds of feet assailed Palpatine's ears.

"Chancellor Palpatine! Is it true that you fed anonymous lies to the Child Welfare Board about the Jedi Council!"

"Chancellor Palpatine! Did that letter really originate in your outer office?"

"Chancellor Palpatine! Who in your office leaked these allegations to the press?"

"Chancellor Palpatine! Are you concerned that you might be sued for slander?"

"Chancellor Palpatine!"

"Chancellor Palpatine!"

"Chancellor Palpatine!"

He fought the urge to shy backwards and let the doors close between him and the mob. That was what they wanted, and Palpatine had formulated his personal survival rule years earlier: Tell people what they needed to hear now, and figure out how to make it appear true later. He thought fast: Which would appear more believable? Total ignorance, or having backed someone up in an anonymous report he sincerely believed to have been true? His Jedi master was going to have to catch some heat for this one. Thank the Force the man had just departed offworld.

He opened his arms, summoned up his best hurt frown, and stepped forward. "Would someone please tell me what is going on?"

His air taxi seemed a mile away. Beside the vehicle stood his driver and four hopelessly outnumbered Senate guards. The driver shrugged, shook his head, mouthed, "Sorry!" and pointed dramatically to his control panel to indicate a problem with the comm unit.

Several holocams swung about and caught the motion. Palpatine frowned, and the rest of the holocams caught that. He remembered his sleeping companion only after she whimpered miserably and shrank closer against his arm.

"Chancellor Palpatine! Who is this beautiful lady you're with?"

He could only thank the dark side this hadn't happened yesterday.

Yesterday they might have caught him with two women.

Two weeks later, Taima was summoned back to the Jedi Temple by none other than Master Yoda himself. They walked down the same long corridor together with the same endless view of the capitol, yet Taima felt much more at home now than she ever had with Master Windu.

She slowed her steps to match Yoda's.

"Happy I am to see you, Counselor," he greeted her, "but sorry I am as well. Unhappy news we have, from our Jedi on Tatooine."

"Anakin's mother isn't sick, is she?" Taima asked, alarmed. "Or dead? Oh, please don't tell me that!"

"Unable to tell you anything, I am. Disappeared, she has."

"Disappeared?"

"First to Naboo the Jedi went, to speak with the Queen and Jar Jar Binks. Directed them they did, to a junk shop in Mos Espa, and the Toydarian ... "

"Watto," Taima supplied.

"Sold her, Watto did, or so he said. Give our Jedi the name of the new owner, he would not. Able we were to prove she has not left the planet. Slaves must leave through slave portals, and recorded their transponder numbers are. Able to review those records we were, and find hers we did not. Not a trace of her have we found. Continue we will to search for her, as long as we are able."

Taima put her hand to her mouth in shock. "What about Anakin? Does he know?"

"Told him we have not. Expected to find her, we did. Expect to find her, we still do. But curious this is. Most curious."

"Curiouser and curiouser ... " Taima whispered, recalling a famous passage from a Nubian children's story.

Ahead of them the walkway ended in a lounge. A large viewscreen was on and, as they approached, Chancellor Palpatine's face flickered into view. Coruscant's most popular and highly-paid newscaster courteously held a microphone out for him.

"Chancellor," she was saying, "what do you intend to do in the matter of Master C'Baoth? Whatever motivated this, it's certainly embarrassed both you and the Jedi Council. Have the two of you spoken about this?"

A frown creased the distinguished high brow. "Interesting that you should ask me that, Alana. We haven't heard a word from that mission since it departed. Of course I wish to speak to Master C'Baoth on the matter, but at the moment I'm becoming more concerned about his safety. Not to mention that of the other four Jedi aboard the mission. As for any embarrassment," he added with an ingratiating twinkle that was almost a wink, "no offense is ever given where none is taken. I'm sure the entire incident was motivated by only good intentions, and so of course I view it in that light. I trust the Jedi Council is quite capable of the same."

Yoda's ears lowered until they stuck straight out on either side of his head. Taima ventured a look at his face, but his features were inscrutable, and he uttered not a sound.

"Speaking of offense," came the cultured voice of the news commentator, "Counselor Taima of the Child Welfare Board has said that she fears retaliation from your office for having made these facts public. What is your response to that?"

Palpatine smiled a handsome smile. "Counselor Taima's read one too many exposes on corrupt politicians, I'm afraid." He chuckled. "Understandable in this day and age, I suppose. But I do have the highest regard for her and her abilities. She's very good at what she does, and she has young Skywalker's best interests at heart, as do I. We worked together on this, you know, before this terrible misunderstanding, and I'm sorry this has altered her feelings toward me to the extent that it has."

Next she would ask him about his feelings toward the boy, and Palpatine would get all gooey and sad, and Taima would lose her lunch right here at the bare feet of the greatest Jedi master ever. She growled deep in her throat, frustrated, and turned away.

Yoda shuffled around to face her. "Carry a grudge you do, Taima, very long at a time. Good you are at that. Lied you did, during your audience, to keep him from the boy, and very generous has he been."

Taima stared at him. "Do you really believe that?" she asked, gesturing behind her at the viewscreen with her thumb. "Isn't it all a little too convenient for you?"

Yoda's ears twitched. "Remember I do, that incident with your father. Bitter was he, and bitter are you. Sour that is in the stomach, and worse in the soul." He pushed off on his walking stick and started back in the direction they came from.

"Who else knew we had a Force pike? Where did he get it from?" Taima moved to follow him.

"Commonplace they were at one time," said Yoda. "Many of them there still are."

Hot words rose to Taima's lips. How she wished she could tell him about the stolen blaster rifles, Palpatine's sister, his mother Trista's despair. The missing files that documented it all. But she knew what the Jedi master would say: Prove this, can you? No.

"That may well be," she said at last. "But let me ask you this, Master, if I may: How are you getting along with him? As Chancellor, I mean?"

Yoda glanced at her. "State business, that is. Not yours."

"But you traveled with him for days on the Supreme Chancellor's cruiser, all the way to Naboo and back! Certainly you ate a casual dinner with him, of course you ran into him in the parlor, or something! You can't tell me anything?"

The little green face was a mixture of amusement and disapproval: Determined, are you. Yoda paused and chose his words carefully.

"Understand you must, the process of ... establishing a rapport, with a new Chancellor. Skeptical, they are ... Jedi, they are not." A smile curved the corners of the master's mouth. "Like training a new apprentice or padawan, it is. Much patience they need. From different backgrounds they come, and strangers they are to the Force. Tell you I must, when Finis Valorum became Chancellor, difficult it was, at first. Know how to use us, he did not, yet friends and partners we became. So it is, more often than not, when a new Chancellor is elected."

"My, my," Taima teased. "The master of the evasive answer! Perhaps you have a future in politics."

Yoda favored her with a quick smile.

"But I did ask about Palpatine, Master, specifically."

This time Yoda said it. "Determined, you are -- " and not with approval, either. But he did give her an answer.

He sighed. "Polite he is, friendly, even, but ... distant. Difficult to know." He made a loose fist with his three fingered hand and tapped the durasteel wall with it. "Like this wall he is. Solid, thick. Feel the Force in him, I cannot." He shook his head. "Strange, that. Unusual. Blind some individuals are to the Force ... born that way. Wonder I do, if he is one. Master Jorus C'Baoth has said so, for many years."

They walked on for a few moments in silence. Then Yoda said, "Continue your case, will you?"

At this point the very thought was absurd. "No, " Taima said, "Of course not!"

Then she thought a moment and ventured, "But ... "

Yoda stopped and turned to look at her.

"Master, don't think that I dislike Obi-Wan Kenobi, please don't. I think the world of him. But he isn't a master -- he's only just been made a Jedi knight. If I were to take Anakin into my home to raise -- and at this point I'd never even dream of it, don't worry -- but if I were, I'd want some professional help with him. And I work with children, and I'm ten years older than Obi-Wan. If the Council knows Anakin's going to have difficulties, why didn't they ask a master to train him? Anakin needs patience and wisdom and experience. He needs you."

Yoda shook his head. "Take another apprentice, I may not. Only half finished with her training is the apprentice I have now."

"Ki-Adi-Mundi hasn't taken an apprentice yet," said Taima slyly.

"Discussed it we have. Fond of Qui-Gon he was, and Qui-Gon's last wish was that Kenobi train the boy." Yoda paused. "Not to say that I agree, this is. But -- " he grunted, pushing off on his walking stick again. "Nothing the Code says about how closely I may supervise. Train Obi-Wan I did, before he became padawan to Master Jinn. Training him again, I soon will be."

Taima let out a sigh of relief. "It makes me feel a lot better to hear that, Master Yoda. I don't mean any offense when I say this, but -- "

Yoda turned to look at her.

"I hope you supervise him very carefully."

Yoda's ears flattened and the corners of his mouth turned down, but he accepted the remark without verbal complaint. Emboldened by this, Taima went a step further.

"And, Master. I know you will keep your own counsel about the Chancellor, as of course you should. But I know more about him than I've said. I can't back any of it up, the proof of it was destroyed ages ago. But I believe that someday, if you deal with him long enough, you might be interested to hear what I know. When that day arrives, you call me."

It was impossible to read the master's face.

"I'll be waiting."

The End