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A crash and clatter draw Qui-Gon’s attention to the docking bay across the hangar. The commotion disrupts the calm of the otherwise indolent outpost.
In slurred rodian, a pilot clicks, “Fucking kid, you’re going to pay for that.”
“Not before you pay for your piece of crap ship,” the boy replies, his translation unstudied and imperfect.
The rodian staggers forward; the boy clenches his fist, ready to swing. Light on his feet and quicker than he is strong; Qui-Gon can’t say whether sobering up would have helped the rodian.
The air and all the galaxy pull toward the boy.
Qui-Gon watches, transfixed.
The Force acts within him. He dodges and steps away, letting the rodian stumble about, chasing him through the hangar. Only when the rodian trips and falls hard on the ground does Qui-Gon sense the boy’s intentions.
He catches the boy’s wrist mid-swing, “Stop this. You’ve won. There’s no need for further violence.”
An expressive face turns to meet his reprimand. He is angry from the conflict, irritated and confused by the interference. More troubling emotions linger beneath the surface. He wrenches his arm out of Qui-Gon’s firm grip.
Breathless, the rodian speaks, “You can’t rip me off, kid. Not with a Jedi around.”
Hot-temperedly, “I don’t care who he is,” he jerks his head in Qui-Gon’s direction, “you fucking owe two hundred credits or your ship stays land-locked.”
“Jedi, tell the kid I’m not paying unless he used platinum-plated parts.”
“You appear to misunderstand the situation. If the boy has completed the repairs to your ship, you owe him the fair price. As it is, I believe he has earned his wage.”
The rodian spits at the ground, cursing, and grudgingly pays the boy. The boy stores the payment in the till.
“I had everything under control,” he huffs, switching to galactic basic.
“Except your emotions. You let them get the better of you.”
“I know how to handle myself.”
“But you could be so much more.”
Some of the harder, more concerning feelings in him dissipate. Qui-Gon senses new, encouraging emotions taking their place.
A growing curiosity rises to the top, “What’s a Jedi?”
The question catches Qui-Gon off guard. The boy called on the Force so easily; unrestrained and unrefined, but strong. How could it have been without some knowledge of it? He finds himself drawn the mysterious boy.
“What is your name?”
“Anakin Skywalker.” He repeats, “What’s a Jedi?”
“They are defenders of peace in the galaxy.”
“And are you?”
“Am I what?”
“A Jedi.”
“Yes. I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn of the Jedi Order.”
Anakin is not struck with the same awe the introduction often inspires. The words mean nothing, and yet the Force swells in him. His better qualities overshadow those which reigned during his fight. Where there was anger there is empathy, irritation – eagerness, and confusion – courage.
He explains further, “The Order is an ancient institution pledged to use the Force to maintain the balance of the universe and protect the Republic.”
“What’s the Force?”
It surprises Qui-Gon again how little Anakin knows; his natural ability does not grant him understanding.
“It is what creates and makes up all life in the galaxy. It binds the galaxy together and there are those, such as the Jedi, who are especially sensitive to the Force’s touch, people and beings who have a strong connection to it. Like yourself.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Why would I be? The Force is strong with you, Anakin. I sensed it during the fight – I sense it in you now.”
Heart and Force agree; the head is wary of its first impressions, but this boy wouldn’t be the first. Qui-Gon trusts the Force, “How would you like to train with me be a Jedi?”
A spark lights Anakin’s expression. A whole galaxy exists in the excitement and wonder behind his eyes.
“You mean leave Tatooine?”
“Yes, you would have to come with me to Coruscant.”
Through the yearning in his tone, Qui-Gon senses a hint of doubt. There is hesitancy; Anakin is not without attachment here.
“If you would rather stay –”
“No! I want to come.”
“You’re sure? Learning the ways of the Force is not easy.”
“I’ll do it.”
The mechanic’s assistant strains, as the Force strains within him, to get off this system – to be more than he is.
Qui-Gon smiles inwardly, “Then I will train you. I must finish my business here, but then we will travel to Coruscant.”
Anakin breaks eye contact, “There’s something I have to do first.” The hesitancy is back. The Force is pulling the boy toward Qui-Gon, but his attachment is pulling him elsewhere. “I have to the homestead.”
“If you are going to be a Jedi, you must learn to let go of attachments.”
“I still have to go back. I can’t leave without telling my mom.”
It is Qui-Gon who hesitates. Anakin’s attachment to his mother is written plainly on his face, their bond is deep. It will not be easy for him to leave her behind as a Jedi must.
“Then I will accompany you.”