The ship hummed gently as it cut through hyperspace, stars stretching into lines beyond the cockpit. Inside, the corridors were quiet but brimming with questions.
Later, as the stars streaked past in silence, Qui-Gon approached Shmi quietly in one of the passenger chambers.
"There's something I must ask," he said. "About Anakin."
Shmi looked at him steadily. "You already know, don't you?"
"I suspect. But I need to hear it."
She took a deep breath. "There was no father. I carried him, bore him… raised him. I can't explain it."
"The Force," Qui-Gon said softly. "The boy's connection is unlike anything I've felt."
Shmi nodded. "He's always been different. Not in a bad way. Just… more."
Anakin, listening from the corridor, felt a strange tightness in his chest. He had heard these words before in another life, on this same journey. But now, they carried more than mystery. They carried words of 'prophecy'.
In a small medbay nestled between compartments, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood beside a diagnostic terminal. Anakin sat obediently on the edge of the medical cot, his legs swinging slightly, hands folded in his lap.
Shmi stood near the doorway, her hands folded tightly. Her gaze was steady, but Anakin could feel the tension radiating from her. She was being extra protective of him just in case they found something they didn't like.
Qui-Gon inserted a blood sample into the scanner. The device hissed as it closed and began to process, glowing with soft blue light. Its soft chime began to beep as data populated across the screen. He folded his arms, watching.
Obi-Wan paced lightly nearby, arms folded behind his back, but his usual serenity was threaded with unease. He watched the screen as data began to scroll in delicate lines.
"You've tested blood samples before, Master," Obi-Wan said after a long silence. "You've never needed to double-check a reading."
Qui-Gon didn't answer immediately. His gaze was locked on the screen, a frown creasing his brow.
"I've tested many," Qui-Gon murmured. "But not like this."
"I've never seen him sick," Shmi said softly. "Not a day in his life. Cuts, scrapes, he heals so fast. Sometimes… it frightened me."
Obi-Wan glanced at her. "You mentioned before, Anakin doesn't have a father?"
Shmi nodded. "Yes, there was no father. I raised him all on my own. But I can't explain how he came to be." Her eyes dropped. "I've stopped trying."
The silence grew thick.
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed, but Qui-Gon didn't react, his eyes were on the scanner.
The results chimed.
Then blinked again.
Then paused.
Then recalculated.
Then blinked again.
Obi-Wan leaned forward, eyes narrowing. The screen showed a count Obi-Wan had only seen referenced in old holocron theory.
"…That can't be right," he said.
Qui-Gon leaned closer. The midichlorian count had to be a mistake.
"Run it again."
Without a word, he reinserted the cartridge. The machine hummed, spun, and presented the same result.
A midichlorian count: 27,703 per cell.
Obi-Wan took a step back.
"That's… impossible."
"Not impossible," Qui-Gon said, voice low. "Unprecedented."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Just having over twenty thousand is astonishing. Even Grandmaster Yoda doesn't have nearly that much."
"But what does that mean?" Obi-Wan pressed, his voice tighter than before. "Is he the….?"
There was a pause. A deep breath radiated throughout the room.
"I don't know yet," Qui-Gon admitted. "But the Council must also hear of this."
Shmi's gaze flicked between them. "What does it mean?"
Obi-Wan struggled for words. Qui-Gon answered instead, voice calm but heavy with implication.
"It means… your son is something the galaxy has never seen before."
"The Force surrounds every living being," he said quietly
"But in Anakin… it doesn't just flow. It gathers."
Shmi looked at Anakin. She said nothing.
Anakin remained quiet, absorbing the silence as if it spoke louder than words. But something else stirred inside him, not pride, not fear. A knowing. A flicker of memory that wasn't memory at all. A shadow deeper than hyperspace.
He remembered what this had led to, the prophecy and the great expectations that followed. The constant pressure and the whispers behind his back. The need to be something more than a boy.
He could feel it beginning again.
But this time, he wouldn't be consumed by it.
Later that night, the ship settled into the lull of hyperspace sleep. Lights dimmed. Quiet footsteps padded through the corridor.
Anakin found her on the observation deck.
Padmé sat curled by the viewport, watching stars streak past. She didn't look up when he entered.
He hesitated, holding the Japor snippet in his hand, fingers running over the carvings.
She sensed him before he spoke.
"I made this," Anakin said, stepping forward. "For you."
Padmé turned, brows raised. "For me?"
He nodded, a bit shy now. "It's a good luck charm. Japor wood, it's supposed to bring protection. I carved it back before the podrace… in case something went wrong."
She took it gently, running her fingers across its surface.
"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you."
He sat beside her, not too close, just enough to share the silence.
"I don't know if I'll ever see Tatooine again," he said, not quite sad, not quite hopeful. "But I know I'll remember this. Right now."
Padmé turned, studying him. "You're not like other boys."
He didn't answer and just shrugged.
The stars swam before them in silence.
In a low-lit service room near the rear hold, among exposed wiring and diagnostic panels, a tall, wiry protocol droid sat awkwardly on a storage crate. His polished frame still bore the dust of Tatooine, mismatched plating covering most of his limbs, the result of a recent rush to finish him for travel.
C-3PO tilted his head, his photoreceptors flickering with mild confusion.
"Oh dear," he said aloud to no one. "So many buttons. And no proper power calibration routines. Honestly, I don't understand how anything functions on this vessel."
From below came a low whirr and a rising bloop-bweep!
C-3PO turned.
A small, dome-headed astromech droid rolled forward from the corridor, his blue lights pulsing with scanning interest. His dome rotated once, emitting a chirp of greeting.
"Oh!" C-3PO straightened slightly. "A fellow droid! Thank the Maker, I was beginning to think I was the only one with a functioning logic matrix on this entire ship."
R2-D2 let out a trill, inquisitive but amused.
"C-3PO, human-cyborg relations," Threepio said with a slight bow, gesturing stiffly toward his chest. "I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, though I must admit, my diplomatic protocol is somewhat outdated for this sector. I was constructed, well, mostly constructed, by a human boy. Quite brilliant, really, but his organizational instincts leave much to be desired."
R2's dome spun, and he let out a descending whoo-whoooop, followed by a cheeky bwoop.
"Primitive, am I? I'll have you know my processor is fully self-correcting, thank you very much." Threepio drew himself up. "And while I may lack the... ergonomic design of an astromech, I assure you, my function is no less vital."
R2 beeped again, this time a complex burst of tones, almost smug.
"You repaired the ship mid-battle?" C-3PO repeated, his tone skeptical. "Is that even allowed? That's an astromech function beyond standard calibration! You must be highly modified."
R2's dome gave a slight waggle, unmistakably proud.
"Well," Threepio huffed, folding his arms as best he could. "I suppose some machines are built for danger. Personally, I prefer the diplomatic approach. Less chance of being imprisoned."
R2 emitted a low rasp of static, the droid equivalent of a chuckle.
R2 let out a soft chirrup, followed by a series of descending whistles.
"Oh, I see," C-3PO said, nodding. "You're assigned to the Queen's personal starship. That explains the royal crest on your hull. And the attitude."
R2 responded with a cheeky bwee-bwoo!
C-3PO gave a long-suffering sigh. "This is going to be a very long journey, isn't it?"
There was a pause. Then, unexpectedly, R2 rolled forward and bumped gently against Threepio's foot. A soft, companionable doot sounded from his emitter.
Threepio looked down, surprised. "Oh. Well… yes. I suppose we are both quite far from where we were built, aren't we? You, Naboo. Myself, Tatooine. Hardly the center of the galaxy."
R2 warbled gently in agreement.
C-3PO straightened his back. "Well then, we may as well become acquainted properly. Do you prefer formal address or unit designation? You strike me as more casual."
A buzz and a chirp-blurt.
"R2-D2 it is."
They sat there a moment longer, two unlikely companions sharing a rare moment of stillness amid the turbulence of fate that raged all around them.
Beyond the walls, the ship hurtled toward Coruscant.
Not far away, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sat in quiet meditation near the bridge.
"You felt it too," Qui-Gon said quietly.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes. "When I touched his hand. It was like touching fate. Like it reached through me."
Qui-Gon nodded. "I believe he is the one the prophecy spoke of."
Obi-Wan's lips tightened. "You're sure?"
"No," Qui-Gon admitted. "But I feel the Force moving through him. Like a tide pulled by moons we cannot yet see."
Obi-Wan looked at the floor, thoughtful.
"He's powerful," the Padawan finally said. "But he's not trained. Not centered. That could be dangerous."
"So is every child," Qui-Gon said. "But this one… this one may change everything."
The conversation broke as the ship's proximity alarm chimed softly. The ship slowed, stars returning to pinpricks.
They had arrived.
The skyline of Coruscant filled the viewport, towers of light and steel rising like blades, endless and cold beneath the curve of the atmosphere.
Anakin pressed to the glass, eyes wide, not with childish wonder, but with quiet calculation.
So many lives, many shadows. A city of power and secrets.
The Queen's royal cruiser landed on a platform bathed in golden light.
At the base of the ramp, senators, guards, and Jedi awaited.
And among them stood a man cloaked in regal calm.
Senator Palpatine.
His eyes found Anakin at once.
He smiled gracious, patient, practiced.
Anakin stared back, and for the briefest moment, felt something reach for him across the air. Cold and smooth, like silk over a blade.
He blinked.
The feeling vanished.
Padmé stepped forward. "Senator Palpatine," she greeted.
"Your Highness," he said with a bow, and then turned toward the group behind her.
"And these… are our newest companions, I presume."
Anakin felt the man's gaze settle on him. Like a hand on his shoulder.
"Welcome to Coruscant," Palpatine said. "We have much to discuss."