Annoyed beep; the sand gets in his nooks and crannies - not in a way that could damage him, but it's aggravating, and his filters are getting a bit clogged. And he thinks the dumb organic doesn't know where he's going.

"None of us know where we're going," Qui-Gon says.  "But I know exactly what I'm looking for."

Great. (The beep is very sarcastically tinged). R2D2 is very sure they won't get lost, then.

"I'm glad you're coming around."  His deadpan is flawless.

Uh-huh. (Still... R2D2 sounds a bit amused. Just a bit.) Does the organic know which way to turn now?

"My organic's intuition is pointing me in that direction."  He nods toward a little mechanic's shop.

Looks dingy. But their display is well maintained. Acceptable.

"I'm glad it meets with your approval."  In they go.

The shop is full of minor mechanical knick-knacks - nothing expensive is out in the open, though. There's a worn down woman - old before her time - manning the counter. She looks subtly exhausted. Something about her is -

Odd, in the Force.

She looks up at the entering man and droid and smiles thinly. "Honored customers. What can my master do for you today?"

...he doesn't like the implications of the word "master", not on an outer-rim planet this far from the Jedi order.  He knew there was a reason he had a bad feeling about this place.

Gently: "It's an honor to meet you.  May I ask if you're working the counter alone today, or is the shop's proprietor present?"

"My master is out at the moment, though he will be back shortly."

"I see.  I... can conclude my business quickly, if you would prefer that."

"That depends on what your business is, sir."

Gesturing toward R2: "My friend and I need to purchase several pats to repair a J-type 327 Nubian starship.  Can you help us with that?"

She considers them for a moment. "We have parts for that, though they can get expensive."

"We can pay in Republic credits, if they're accepted here."

"They aren't, at least not in a local shop like this one."

He fiddles with his goatee, pensively.  "We're not carrying any other currencies... are there alternative means of payment that this shop's owner would accept?"  He's not sure he's gonna care for any of them, but he can at least ask.

She frowns, a bit. "The main ones... Trade in kind, if you have parts of greater worth you're not using. Bartering trade goods. Gambling - my owner enjoys betting on races, as do many of those with means around here. You could gamble for local currency or any parts directly."

"We don't have many goods we'd care to part with... gambling could be promising.  But I would have to consult with my shipmates in any case."

She nods, a little. "I wish you fortune, then."

He inclines his head in return.  "You've been very helpful today.  Thank you."

She nods, slowly, clearly considering him. "You're welcome, sir."

She waits until they leave to return to what she'd been doing before.

He departs.

To R2: "Think it's worth looking around for a shop that'll accept credits?"

Beep.

(He doesn't like this place. He doesn't like the word 'master' or the weary look in that organic's eyes. He doesn't like the Hutts, not at all. But looking around might be faster than trying to find something to gamble on, and their mission needs speed.)

"No," Qui-Gon murmurs.  "I don't like this place either."

He'll look around, he'll poke his head in a few more shops.  But not many places in the outer rim stock parts for star-yachts.

In fact, the general consensus is that the shop he first poked his head into is the only one with the parts, and almost none of the others would take Republic credits anyways. (One proprietor falsely claims to have the parts; he's blatantly trying to cheat them, though.)

The people here are poor, even the free. There's a sense of desperation, of sorrow, of angry determination, of exhaustion.

Something feels off with the air, too, a heavy warning of possible danger - a thin thread guiding out of it - 

And the slave woman from earlier, helping a woman selling small hand-carved jewelries from a carpet (not even a stall) pack up her things. She looks up at Qui-Gon and R2D2 before they even get close, gaze sharp - and then something in her face softens when she sees them.

She rolls the last few things up, hands them to the old woman, and strides to catch up with Qui-Gon and R2D2. "There's a sandstorm coming, sir," she says, gaze down in a way that could be mistaken for demure but feels - not quite that.

He frowns.  "We should get indoors.  My friend especially."

"Do you have shelter nearby?"

"We have a ship, but it's some ways outside of town."

"You won't get there in time."

"My home is nearby, though."

He glances at R2.

R2 whirs an accepting tone.

"We'd be honored," he says.

She nods, says, "This way, sir," and leads the way quickly through some alleys, to a brown stone hovel in a crowded, noisy part of town. She enters last, after Qui-Gon and R2D2. The wind's notably picked up by the time they're inside, stinging sand already carried on it. It promises to be a bad storm.

The hovel's small, only two rooms - a communal area and what appears to be a simple bedroom off to one side.

"Thank you," he says.  "...I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.  My name is Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is R2D2."

"It's good to meet you both," she says, softly. "I'm Shmi Skywalker."

"It's good to meet you, Miss Skywalker.  Thank you again for protecting us."

"You're welcome," she says. "You seem like - decent sorts."

He smiles, at R2 and at her.  "We do what we can."

She nods. "We don't have much good food, here, but I have enough for hospitality..."

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry," Qui-Gon says.  "And I wouldn't want to tax you."

Small smile. "It wouldn't be a large problem. But I won't force food upon you."

He grins.  "I appreciate it.  We should get in touch with the ship, let them know we'll be delayed.  R2, would you mind opening a connection?"

Agreeable beep, and R2 starts up a (somewhat full of static, given the storm) holo-call.

A blue holo-shape of a slender, serene girl crackles to life.  "Master Qui-Gon?  Is everything all right?"

"Queen Amidala," he says, and inclines his head.  "R2 and I were caught out in a sandstorm.  A local woman named Shmi Skywalker has kindly offered us shelter, but I suspect we'll be some time before we make it back to the ship."

"All right," says, apparently, Queen Amidala.  "Thank you for telling me."  She turns to Shmi: "And thank you, Miss Skywalker, for offering R2D2 and Master Qui-Gon your home.  I hope he didn't trade on my name to get it."

"It is my pleasure, ma'am. He didn't mention you at all, actually - I informed him of the coming sandstorm and offered him my home when it turned out his ship was too far."

"I didn't really expect him to, but I like to check," she says sunnily.  "R2, Miss Skywalker - would either of you mind if I stayed on the call for a little while?  I'd like to catch up with Qui-Gon about our mission, and if I'm honest I'm feeling a bit cooped up in the ship."  Grin.

"It's alright by me, ma'am."

R2D2 whirs; he doesn't mind at all.

(And, in the background, a youthful face peeks out from the door into the bedroom. No one, not Shmi or R2 or Kelié, reacts to her, and - Qui-Gon can see her, but the Force is being very, very insistent she should be ignored.)

The catch is, he can hear the Force insisting.  She knows how to hide from ordinary people, but not Force-sensitives.  He keeps his eyes off her, doesn't let his reaction show, but keeps a tendril of awareness pointed at her, finer and more delicately hidden than hers.

He fills Kelié in a little.

The girl sneaks in closer, still being ignored, apparently interested in the contents of the call. She's scrawny, somewhat malnourished - probably a preteen or thereabouts.

They're not discussing anything sensitive, and he doesn't sense any truly malicious intent from her, so Qui-Gon lets her get away with it.  He is very, very good at not appearing outwardly amused.

She apparently decides she can listen and wander at the same time; she heads over to Qui-Gon next, peering at him and examining his clothes and bearing. Her gaze is keen, and she seems to sense something about him in the Force by how she's carefully reaching out.

He lets himself be gently prodded.  (He is... a maker of peace, wherever he can, and a defender of the downtrodden.)

In the mundane realm, the conversation turns to gambling - what's wagered, how much, in what games or on what events.

She goes to lean against the wall, watching them with avid interest.

Shmi holds that the biggest gambles are over races - any kind, but especially pod races, which are incredibly dangerous. The Boonta Eve Classic, in a few days, is the largest of those, but there's smaller pod races beforehand as preludes to whet the audience's appetite. People gamble just about anything you can possibly own - money, land, weapons, ships, slaves. Fortunes are often made or broken gambling on the Classic, and people will put up higher sums than they tend to in other races.

Still... Winning a bet there's tricky. It'd be easier to start with a smaller race.

"There's slave trade on Tatooine?" Kelié says somberly.

"...Yes."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kelié says solemnly.  "Would you be comfortable discussing the situation on Tatooine in more detail?  I and my people are interested in the galaxy-wide abolition of slavery."

She considers Kelié, gaze solemn and keen. Questioning. And, carefully - "I'm in a position to discuss that, yes, and would be willing."

"Thank you," Kelié says, and bows her head.

And Shmi talks her through the complex situation and history of slavery in Tatooine, not shying away from being a slave herself. (There's some things she's not mentioning. People she's eliding over. But the information is good, earnest.)

Outside, the sand storm begins to die down.

Qui-Gon mostly listens.

The girl gets bored eventually and straightens, heaving for the bedroom and through a barely visible back door.

Probably he should investigate this properly at some point.

He excuses himself, leaves out the front door for a stroll.  Lets his Force-senses unfurl and spread out through the nearby streets and alleys, looking for her.

The back alleys are mostly not connected to the main thoroughfare; still, he can duck through a few houses down. She seems to be heading towards one of the larger, wealthier districts.

He moves briskly to catch up with her, falls into step beside her, gait casual like he just happens to be walking this way too.

She stops, peering at him.

He doesn't react at first, carrying on for a few moments as though nothing happened.  Then he slows to a stop, fishes something out of a pocket and examines it.

...She keeps walking, then turns down a side alley. A narrower, more uninviting one.

Just as she's turning: "Does Shmi Skywalker know she's being haunted?"

She stops, turning to look at him, a bit surprised.

She tilts her head, examining him, then - "Depends. How can you see me?"

"You're not the only person with your abilities."

She peers at him more intently.

"Are you a demon too?"

He turns and sits down, back to the alley walls, and consider this.  "Don't think I've ever been called a demon, no."

She sits down across from him, grinning. "What are you then? I'm a demon, not just a seer - I don't got a father. No one agrees if I'm a desert spirit or a the rebirth of a murdered kid or what."

"I'm a Jedi.  You don't have a father?"

"I guess you could say the desert is my father." She settles into a story-telling voice. "Years ago, she was part of a group of slaves being transported through the desert - their transport crashed, and the masters died, but the slaves survived. Mom led them out of the desert with no water or food, weary and barefoot, through storm and flame - she'd had a vision, the longest of her life, and she'd seen the stars guiding her way even though the sky was clouded. She let herself be recaptured, but the others melted into the desert like a mirage."

"She wasn't pregnant at the checkup before - but she was at the end, and she denies ever sleeping with anyone."

"I haven't heard of Jedi."

"That's an intriguing tale," he says.  "And you're a compelling storyteller."

"A Jedi is someone who tries to follow the will of the Force, which is a field of energy and thought and intention that stretches across the entire galaxy.  We try to protect and uplift the downtrodden, and preserve peace, wherever we can."

"I have a quiet friend who guides me and tells me how to get things done," she says after a moment. "I dunno if it's in the whole galaxy or just Tatooine. But 'energy and thought and intention' sounds like it."

"I'm going to free all the slaves. That's what demons do, usually, though most don't manage 'all.'"

"Many Jedi think of the Force as a friend, or guide, or mentor," Qui-Gon says.  "I count myself one of them.  Freeing slaves is a worthy goal, and one I intend to work toward myself while I'm here."

"What're your plans?"

"My plans are still under construction," he says.  "What are yours?"

"I'm going to kill all the slavers."

"On the planet?" he says.  "In the entire galaxy?"

Laugh. "I'll start with the city."

He considers this.

"I don't think many people in the Republic would blame you," he says amicably.  "But I believe I can free this city without using violence at all."

"Oh?"

"It may be more difficult, in some ways," he says.  "But I think it's worth protecting the lives of even very evil people, where you can."

She shrugs. "They don't protect our lives."

"That's why many people in the Republic wouldn't blame you," he says.

"How would you even get them to stop without killing them, anyways? Buying slaves off them just gives them more money to buy more slaves later."

"Suppose you and I run a con together," he says.

"What kind of con?"

"Oh, I can think of several," he says, and strokes his goatee.  "...One thing young untrained Force-users often find is that they are very good at piloting speeders or starfighters.  Both require fast reflexes and an ability to focus on many different things at once, which Force-senses can help with.  Has this been your experience?"

"Yeah, it has. I've got a pod I like to take out into the canyons when I'm feeling itchy."

"Ever been in a pod race?"

"Not yet. No one who isn't a slave - or you - knows I exist."

"If you did enter," he says, "do you think you could win?"

She hums, gaze going briefly distant. Then, smirking, "Of course. Even the Boonta Eve Classic."

"What makes you so sure?" he asks.

He has a pretty good idea, though.  And he's definitely intrigued.

"They change the course and rules every time, but there's some things that stay the same - and some patterns. I've watched the earlier races, and know I can do the tracks for those, since they're fun."

"And after the Classic's, during Boonta, is the best time for my plan to start. So I've been poking a lot at what the track is this year, and who the racers are, and how they can be nudged, and who's the big competition, and who's betting what. And no one can see me - except you - so I've been able to get a lot of info just looking over shoulders."

Grin.

"And my friend's pretty confident in me."

Qui-Gon's grinning too.

"Here is my proposal.  I approach every slaver in the city, and offer to gamble my magnificent star-yacht against all of their slaves that the city's favorite to win the Boonta Eve Classic will lose.  We enter you in the race.  When you win, I'll be able to free all of the slaves of everyone who accepted my offer."

She hums. "A pretty risky idea. Not all of them are gonna accept, and it might get me hurt, and it'd take away from my plan. Why should I go along with your plan, then?"

"Well, for one thing - I'm an outsider here, but it's my understanding that all the slaves in Mos Espa are legally owned by one of the Hutt families.  There aren't many of them, and I think you and I together could come up with an angle to use on each of them."

"I know how to get them to kill each other, and I can probably figure out other angles... But helping you's still a lot of effort from me, and I don't really think your plan's gonna work perfectly - Hutts don't really have a sense of honor, and it'd be hard to get them to all follow through on a bet they lost, and then they'd be annoyed at you and harder for me to kill off 'cause they'd be leery or angry, not drunk."

"That's why I need your help," he says.  "But what would you say if I suggested we make a wager of our own?"

"Oh?" She seems intrigued.

"We try my plan first.  And you'd need to put your heart in it, too.  We work out an angle for every Hutt family, we enter you in the Boonta Eve.  If you win, and if we can get all the Hutt families to give up their slaves without hurting any of them - well, that would only be the beginning of my plans for this planet."

"What kinds of plans?"

"Queen Amidala, the woman you saw on the holocall, is the reigning monarch of a planet called Naboo.  Right now it's being threatened by a planet called Enarc.  We're taking her to Coruscant, both to keep her safe and to try to stop a war from breaking out.  Queen Amidala, and all of Naboo, is very invested in bringing an end to slavery, and if we succeed in protecting Naboo, she would turn her attention, and the attention of the Galactic Republic, to liberating Tatooine.  The Republic can be hard to get moving in the right direction, but once you do, it's also very hard to stop it."

"So I help her get off this planet and save her planet, and she helps me..."

"Yeah, that could work - if you win."

"What if you lose our bet?"

"If I can't save more slaves than your plan would've saved," he says, "then I help you with your plan."

He's a maker of peace, wherever he can; but one way or another, he is leaving Mos Espa with as many refugees as he can carry.

She brightens. "That'd be good!"

"And - your plan's a shiny Core Worlder plan, but... I trust you wanna try. So we'll do it your way first."

He grins, a little.  "I'm glad we could come to an agreement."  He stands, and takes a step to the center of the alley, and holds out a hand.

She stands too and shakes his hand.

"Here's probably not the best place to plot in detail," she says with a grin.

"Perhaps not," he says.  "And I should get back, they're going to start wondering about me."

"Are you gonna tell them about me?"

"Would you like me not to?"

She bites her lip.

Slowly: "I'm not sure. I guess if they won't talk to the slavers, it's okay if they know I exist, but I dunno I want them to know my plan yet..."

"They would never," he says seriously.  "I'd like to tell them about my plan, and that you're helping with it; but we can leave our wager out of it for now."

She nods, slowly. "Okay."

"Thank you," he says.  "I'd also take it as a kindness if you told them you were eavesdropping, or let me tell them.  To be clear, if I expected them to mind I would've done something sooner, but they'd prefer to know."

Pause, then: "We can tell them."

"Thank you," he says.  "Shall we return?"

She nods. "Yeah."

As they start heading back: "I don't think we ever properly introduced ourselves.  My name is Qui-Gon Jinn."

"I'm Anakin Skywalker."

"It's nice to meet you, Anakin Skywalker."

They walk back together.

They re-enter the house, and Kelié greets Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon says, "I should tell you, we've had a guest."

"Hi," says Anakin, fidgeting a bit and letting people who aren't Qui-Gon perceive her. (It feels - weird. Exposed.)

" - hello."

"I was spying earlier," she says, peering at Kelié.

"Well, it wasn't a terribly private conversation, I don't think," Kelié says, "but thanks for telling us.  Are you Shmi's daughter?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'm Anakin."

"I'm Kelié Amidala," she says.  "It's nice to meet you."

"Anakin was using her talents with the Force to render herself imperceptible," Qui-Gon says.  "Which I, for one, would not mind if she continues doing."

"I prefer it, yeah."

"It's fine with me," Kelié says.

She nods, says, "Thanks," and - fades a bit, in importance. Not entirely, no one's gonna forget she might be there, but she's harder to notice.

Qui-Gon resumes his seat.  "Your Majesty, by now you've heard some of the situation on Tatooine.  Anakin and I have been discussing the beginnings of a plan to free many of the slaves in this city."  He brings her up to speed on the con he and Anakin have worked out the beginning of; he doesn't mention the plan B.

Kelié listens.

"I don't have Force instincts," she says, "but if this plan goes wrong it could go very badly wrong.  We don't have the parts we need to fix the ship, and even if we assume we can gamble for them as well, if we lose that gamble we have no way off the planet and no way to pay off our debts."

Anakin fades back into their awareness. "I had plans before you guys show up. There's some ships that're easy to steal - I was gonna grab one of the bigger ones, but there's small fast ones too. I could get you in without anyone noticing and away before people manage to chase you."

"You can hide other people as well as yourself?" Kelié says.  "Do you think you could hide all the people we'd be rescuing?"

She thinks. "It'll be really hard, but it'll get easier once we're all in the same ship, better if they're having - quiet thoughts? Which we're good at."

"I can help, some, even if I'm not as skilled," Shmi says. "It's easier if people follow you. It'll be hard safely getting word to the elders in Gardulla's compound about the new rescue plans far enough in advance for them to prepare, but - I'm known to them. They'll trust me, even if things are suddenly changing."

Kelié nods.  "We'd be extremely grateful for your help."

"We should work out some of the specifics," Qui-Gon says.  "Anakin says you and she have information on the internal Hutt politics on this planet?"

Shmi nods. "I have more of the - longer term patterns, Anakin has more of the recent details."

Anakin perks up some.

She has a really thorough idea of all the Hutt families with interest in Tatooine. Most of them, Tatooine's basically an after thought. They have their fingers in the pie, but don't own many slaves here, so they should go along with the ship bet. The Desilijic clan (led by Jabba) and the Besadii clan (led by Gardulla, who Anakin clearly loathes) are the two biggest players on Tatooine - they're both based here, and they hate each other. Gardulla's big weakness is her fondness for gambling, but the slave trade's her biggest fortune, so even she'd be hesitant to put up every slave on any bet. Jabba mostly owns personal slaves, with most of his fortune in other areas - he's not based in Mos Espa (though he'll be coming in for the celebration) and is a lot more paranoid than Gardulla, too.

She doesn't think either Jabba or Gardulla would go in for a ship... They have lots.

But... They hate each other.

Gardulla wants Jabba assassinated. Flat out. A bounty hunter looking to move up in the world - that could be a good lie, offer services as your side of the bet...

Jabba wants Gardulla and her clan destroyed. He's more cunning, a bit older. He'd want information...

Jabba might be convinced to put up all his slaves in offer for enough information, especially since wild bets on the Boonta Eve Classic race are traditional. Gardulla - probably not even for Jabba's head... She might put up a significant fraction, but Anakin thinks 'all' is unlikely...

If they're getting slaves out, though, Anakin isn't willing to leave a single one with Gardulla - Gardulla's horrible.

"Gardulla sounds like the most problematic target," Qui-Gon says.  "But we can come back to her.  Do you think we have enough information to give Jabba that he'd ante all of his slaves in exchange?"

"I know how to break into her compound and networks. He doesn't, not yet."

"And that's worth that much to him?" Qui-Gon asks, undeterred.

"He's getting really annoyed she keeps dodging his bounty hunters and assassins, and they're having trouble getting at her in her compound."

He nods.  "Maybe he'd make the bet," he says, "but if his fortune is in slaves, would he honor it if he lost?"

She hums, thoughtful. "His fortune's in weapons and drugs, mostly... The slaves are just - status things for him. But he cheats, and he doesn't always honor bets - he'd have to if it was made in front of someone not in his group, though, who could say 'Jabba reneges on deals' and get heard."

"Is there a context you know of in which such a bet could be publicly made?  Could we insert an agent into Jabba's sabacc game, for example?"

"Approaching him during Boonta Eve could work - before the race starts. It'd be easy to time it so you were making the bet in front of someone from a different clan, one who wouldn't snitch to Gardulla for what she'll pay. There's a couple of those, and Jabba keeps them around him."

"That sounds like a good plan to me," Qui-Gon says.  He sighs a little and leans back in his chair.  "But you're right about Gardulla.  She's a problem."

She frowns, deep, a flicker of rage and remembered helplessness stirring in her. "She's the worst."

"I don't want her to get anything, I don't want to leave her with money or status or the ability to get more slaves - she has us hunted down in her gardens because it's funny, and she won't even go and kill people herself, she just watches."

A very dark look crosses Qui-Gon's face.  He strokes his goatee.

"How impaired would she be by the loss of all her slaves?  Assume we free them somehow, even if she isn't willing to gamble all of them.  Would she have enough left to rebuild?"

"She has other fortunes - and bounty hunters on her payroll, and clan members, and ships with weapons - but she wouldn't be able to buy or capture a whole bunch of new slaves in a hurry, and she might get killed by other Hutts before she can get her footing again. She'd have more trouble if we also messed with her computers and stuff."

Or just killed her outright. And Jabba. And every other crime lord on this forsaken rock.

"Queen Amidala," Qui-Gon says, "would you and Miss Skywalker mind discussing what she knows of the situation on Tatooine alone for a time?  I'd like to speak to my new friend in private, if that's all right with her."

Shmi nods, firmly. 

Anakin eyes Qui-Gon. "Okay."

He stands.  "After you."

She leads him out after a moment, into the winding alleyways used by the slaves, into a little side place - it'd be a garden somewhere else, maybe, a little lot turned over to nature. Here, there's carefully smooth stones in a soothing pattern, and a broom for sweeping sand (that Anakin ignores), and odd little statues about the edge, larger ones in the corners, and shade from the thick walls around it, and privacy - it's barely visible from the alley, only if you really look - and two stone benches facing each other, their edges worn smooth. Anakin sits on one.

Qui-Gon sits opposite her.

"I want to make clear," he says somberly, "that regardless of our wager, I don't intend to leave this planet while Gardulla retains the ability to ever acquire slaves again.  Not after what you've told me today, certainly."

She curls into herself a bit.

"Why change what you're saying you'll do?"

"I believe that killing every slaver in this city will make it more difficult to end slavery on Tatooine in the long run," Qui-Gon says gently.  "Often, even if it is worth doing something violently, it is still advantageous to do it peacefully, and that is why I prefer to act without violence when I can.  But what Gardulla did to you, and to everyone else who this planet's laws considered her property, was horrific even by the standards of slavers.  Taking a life is not an act without cost, even the life of a deeply evil person.  But if that's what it takes to stop Gardulla, I am willing to pay that cost."

"I worry," he continues slowly, "that I have done wrong by you today, by not making it sufficiently clear that I am appalled by what the criminals on this planet are doing.  If I believed killing them were the best way to stop them, I would not hesitate to do so."

She eyes him.

"You're strange," she says, after a long pause.

"May I ask in what way?"

"Adults usually don't care if they make sense or are fair."

"I'm sorry to hear that has been your experience," he says; and, as his face almost-but-not-quite breaks into a sad smile, "Many of us are rather unreasonable about that, yes."

She nods. "Being weird's good," she says after a moment.

"I do my best."

Grin. "I'm gonna be the weirdest adult."

"I look forward to seeing it."

Heh. "You're neat."

"So are you, if I may say so."

She grins. "Was there other stuff?"

"Not unless there's anything else you'd like to discuss with me away from prying ears," he says.

She hesitates. "I don't know who Gardulla has in her gardens right now... I don't think I want to talk about those in front of - everyone, though, and - we need to get people out of them..."

"I'm happy to discuss them in private, if you'd like," Qui-Gon says.  "Or we can work out another solution if you need to."

She bites her lip. "I can tell you about them..."

"I'll need the information to plan a rescue," Qui-Gon says gently.  "If you're comfortable talking to me, I'd like to hear it."

She nods.

"Gardulla has a bunch of gardens for entertainment. The hunt ones have different environments, and she's got animals for them, and she'll release slaves that're all on - a theme - and then release the animals to hunt them - she likes kids and newly enslaved people, thinks it's - funny, for the innocent to be hunted - "

She curls in on herself. "I know how to get in and out of them. I figured out the going invisible thing in those, and I didn't have a slave implant, so Gardulla thinks I'm dead... The animals are dangerous enough to be impressive but not so dangerous Gardulla's people can't handle them at all. And most've the slaves meant for there don't get the implants, anyways, 'cause the animals are expensive and Gardulla doesn't wanna risk them eating explosives, so I sneak kids out whenever I can - that's how I figured out making other people invisible - but it's not often enough..."

"There's also other pleasure gardens but the people in those don't usually end up dead unless they're really dumb and make her mad."

She seems to be rambling, a bit, thoughts out of order.

He nods along, solemnly.

He asks questions, to get a sense of the layout - of the gardens and of the palace itself.  He asks, gently, about the slave implants, whether they can be made impossible or at least more difficult to activate with access to Gardulla's computers.

She's pretty sure impossible if they're clever... The implants can be disabled and the codes transferred, so Gardulla can ever sell slaves.

She knows the layout nearly by heart.

"Thank you, Anakin," he says, once he feels he knows enough to start formulating a plan.  "I'd like to discuss this information with my allies, if you're comfortable with that.  You can be present or absent for those discussions as you prefer."

She thinks. "Can I be present but hiding?"

He considers this.  "Would it be all right if I told them you were there?"

Slow nod. "Yeah."

"I don't think that will bother anyone, then."

"Alright."

If there's nothing else to say...

Qui-Gon returns to the house, and fills in Kelié and R2 about the details of Gardulla's compound.

"Every other Hutt, we have an angle on," he says, "but Anakin and I don't think Gardulla can be persuaded to gamble all of her slaves.  So here's what I propose we do instead - "

*

Over the next little bit, Anakin has a lot of fun preparing for the pod race. She works herself in slowly, gets a hold of some improvements for her pod to keep tinkering on it, instinct - her friend that's everywhere in her mind, the Force perhaps - guiding her hands to improve it in a few specific ways...

She's entered as just 'Anakin,' no last name. She helps play up some rivalries with the favored racer by getting into a dramatic argument at one point with him - makes bets more exciting -

And all too soon, Boonta's Eve crashes upon them. Anakin lines up in her little pod with the other racers. Her pod looks small and dinky next to their more professional, more expensive pods. But she's glowing with excitement, even as her skin crawls from feeling all the myriad eyes on her...

She waits, tense, for the race to start.

Qui-Gon ingratiates himself with the Hutts and the Hutts' people, making various bets on fictional visitors' behalves, offering Kelié's ship and their meager assets as collateral in a dozen different bets.

On the day of the race, he is staring intently down at the racetrack from a private box - away from the press of the crowd, but still cramped and unshaded and hot.

R2D2 is in with him, a holoprojector allowing Kelié to watch the race.

Kelié is quiet, fidgety, visibly anxious.

Anakin settles into a clear sort of focus as the announcer counts down, her mind becoming the world around her, her body becoming her pod as well, processing and reacting smoothly - a crystal clear sort of awareness as adrenaline rushes through her.

She grins, broadly, and laughs at the signal to start, giving the other competitors a second - there'll be a crush, she can see it clearly as if it was happening now and not heartbeats ahead - and then leaping forward, eager, wind rushing around her as her pod screams forward, diving up and swerving around the forming tangle. Her heart sings in her ears, her vision not nearly keen enough for this, human eyes too slow for the chaotic blur of Tattooine's landscape - but her friend's flowing around her, delighting with her as Anakin swoops past someone coming up on her side, perfectly timed to send them into a spin it takes them precious seconds to recover from -

There's cameras all along the route - it's competitive as hell, all of the racers who survive the first minute top tier, all attacking each other - 'legally' or not, there's a special talent to waiting for blind spots in the cameras to pull out technically banned weapons - Anakin plays clean, though, giggling at the extra challenges, doesn't even let her friend nudge her into getting the other racers killed by their own hubris -

She doesn't pull into the lead immediately, doesn't get a clear win - it's neck and neck, the top four, her and Aldar and Sebulba and Gasgano leap frogging ahead of each other the first lap - she finishes in four minutes, pod screaming to its limits - Sebulba's weapons clip her on the second lap, she drops back two places, flow disrupted, pod nearly out of her control as her anger spikes -

Anakin recovers and swings past the next pod, dancing around the canyons - she's better at these than anyone else, can get ahead here, pod whipping past rocks with barely any space to spare, speeds to fast her pod's barely able to keep up with it - none of the other racers are, the one who tries to mimic her clip the canyon walls and spin into a crash - Gasgano catches up with her as she enters the flats, Sebulba tries to shoot them both down - Anakin nudges her pod even before Sebulba fires, confusing his tracking just enough the explosives crash into the ground -

Sebulba gets more aggressive as they enter the third lap, desperate to take down Anakin - he's favored for this race, has a lot riding on it - she teases him, riling him up almost instinctively - he tries to keep on her tail as she enters the canyon the third time and it's almost embarrassingly easy to swing his pod into a rock - just at the right angle he'll survive, she still isn't getting her competitors killed -

It's her and Gasgano, the last stretch, an almost relaxing race as the other competitor focuses on speeding past her rather than trying to destroy her pod. His pod's a hair faster, but Anakin's is a hair more maneuverable - it remains unclear who'll win, most of those last two minutes, but then there's twists right before the end and Anakin pushes herself through them, maintaining her straightaway speed despite that being objectively stupid -

She wins by a good thirteen seconds, at the final count.

She lets out a breath.

The crowd goes wild.

She laughs, startled, lets herself be seen and applauded - it's weird and almost terrifying but also exhilarating, how excited everyone is -

The race winds down, the other five whose pods didn't crash following fairly close behind, and Anakin starts making her way over to Qui-Gon's box.

(There are thoughts and gazes turning to him - people he made bets with, all of whom have now lost. Still, there's a mood of jubilation and startled delight at the exciting race - he's unlikely to see many people going back on their bets.)

(He's going to slip away into the crowd discreetly so he can collect his winnings from one person at a time and avoid any sort of talking-to-two-people-as-two-assumed-identities comedy-of-errors shenanigans.)

It takes a while for Anakin to get back, anyways - being a sudden celebrity is weirdly tiring! And she's content to chatter at Kelié when she does.

(Qui-Gon doesn't run into much trouble with the people he'd bet for their slaves, not if he's clever about witnesses - Jabba narrows his eyes at him, but the witness to the original bet is still present, and Jabba concedes with feigned grace.)

(Of course, the bet against Gardulla will be more complicated to fulfill...)

"Gardulla," he says.  "Good to see you again."  He's got a good poker face.

Gardulla the Hutt is - laughing, actually. "That was a good race. A good bet!" she tells him. "Rare that just about everyone loses. Makes things more exciting, though - people'll talk about this one."

"I believe they will," he says.  "I don't mean to sound too pointed, but I believe I need to collect from you as well."

"Of course!" she says, jovially. "You'd wanted a tour, yes?"

"I do," he says.  "I'll let you lead the way."

"Well, I have a few things to finish here, but then you can follow my party back - or ride along, if you'd like the full experience."

"I'll meet you there."

She grunts and goes about her business.

And, soon enough, her small convoy is ready to leave back to her compound.

He joins her convoy in one of Kelié's ship's speeders, thankful for the chance to give his false smile a rest.

Her compound's built into the landscape of Tattooine - not particularly grand from the outside, hardly visible from most angles (especially above), and highly defensible. It's built for war, as much as pleasure.

The entry bay is fit for their speeders, though, with guards posted at the only entrance deeper within.

Gardulla herself slithers down from her somewhat grander ship, squinting about.

"This place is quite an achievement," he says as he disembarks.  "I'll let you lead the way."

She does so, chattering to him about the palace as she slithers along.

Looks like he made it in all right.  All that's left now is to keep up his poker face and wait.

Someone else has made it in alright, too.

Anakin ghosted out of his ship once Gardulla left - she's sometimes hard to trick, and Anakin's not taking any chances - and through the hallways she mostly remembers in nightmares (and dreams of the future, sometimes; those are perhaps nightmares for everyone but her), to Gardulla's control room.

Now, what're the defenses here...

First she's gotta get inside the control room itself; the door's locked shut electronically, with a numerical keypad on its right.

She stands to the side so no one will bump into her and watches, searching mentally for visions of people opening the keypad - though if someone happens to walk through the door first, all the better.

No one comes this way, but from the couple of people inside she can put together a mix of visual recall and muscle memory.

This bit's tricky... She enters the code into the pad while very aggressively projecting 'there is absolutely nothing abnormal going on here, you see what you expect.'

She's in a calm mindset as she does so, of course, but - she's alert as the door slides open for any questioning or alarms.

One person, who happens to be looking at the door, frowns vaguely at her and then turns away; the others ignore her.

The door slides closed behind her, and she goes completely from their awareness.

Now, if she's lucky, there'll be an unattended console...

A couple, even!  One closer to the door and a dusty one off in a less-traveled corner.

The dusty one, she thinks - she feels she'll be less likely to be disturbed there.

She makes her way over carefully, trying to envelop the concept of 'nothing is happening over here' in her cloak as she begins investigating the console properly. First, to turn it on...

Turning it on is nothing, it's the password screen that is probably expected to flummox her.

Anakin takes a few deep breaths.

Trying to force visions of her own success is - the sort of thing she does when nervous, but not always smart - she could do that for the password, but -

She tries to center herself, a bit, lean mentally on her friend, and - let her senses guide her hands. It's a bit scarier than normal, in a tense situation like this, surrendering control of where she's going, but...

She has to trust that she'll be led okay.

Her fingers move, guided by the Force, to enter - well, a password.

She's in.

Well, she's got access to this terminal at any rate.  It doesn't look like it wants to give her access to the whole compound from one location, but perhaps with some creative slicing...?

She can do creative! Slicing's fun, as much as she's been able to do it - she has enough of a sense of what she's doing for her instincts to be actually useful here.

(And if she has to, she'll use this to figure out which terminal to use for actual full access.)

Safeguards against accessing the whole compound from one terminal, or at least from this terminal, appear to be on the software end, and a good slicer like Anakin can circumvent or force past them with relative ease.  Here are the security cameras, here are the guard patrols, and here's the control system for the subcutaneous slave collars.  The system isn't enthusiastic about turning them off but a competent slicer can route around that.

Disable any alerts, first, then turn the slave collars off - and wreck the code enough they'll have trouble turning them back on.

Security cameras... A bit trickier, but they can get short loops of nothing happening, set individually for each one she spots nothing happening on. And a little fallback - anyone trying to reset that naively will just turn all the cameras off and delete the software controlling them.

Then she disables the boosters for the guards' communication devices, also activating the signal jammers Gardulla has and tuning them to interfere with her stuff, too.

And then - a bit quickly, because Qui Gon and Gardulla were in a lounge room and didn't look to be moving soon but might -

She shuts the blast doors around the lounge room. And then traps the off duty guards in the guard room, too, and cuts off the guard patrols and also the armory. So she'll have a path down to the slave quarters, of course... There's some guards actually near many of the slaves, though, so she can't just announce she's taking the compound over the intercom...

And then she starts using the terminal's communication to spread as much chaos over the network as she can - to keep anyone else from undoing this - she's maintaining a cloak in the Force so no one around her suspects anything but that's giving her a headache, so she waves her hand over the terminal, breaking it just enough no one can get access, and heads for the door, keeping her cloak up at the same intensity until she's out -

And then, cloaked just enough to be a whisper of wind to anyone she's passing, she takes off at a run for the nearest slave quarters.

(She'd practiced mind tricking people directly with Qui Gon, so hopefully she can convince the guards they want to drop their weapons and leave...)

As the blast doors slide shut and lock the room down, as Gardulla's communicators fail, Qui-Gon turns toward her and lets the smile fall from his face.  "Right on schedule," he says.  "Exalted Gardulla, I am not the wealthy amoral tourist I have presented myself as to you.  I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and I've come here today to give you an ultimatum."

She turns, enraged. "You dare?" she bellows.

"I suggest you consent to hear my ultimatum," he says mildly.  His hands are clasped behind his back, near where he's concealing his lightsaber under one of the gaudy shawls he's put on for the occasion.

Her hands flex, and she eyes him. "Speak, worm," she demands. "Gardulla will hear your useless prattle."

That was actually easier than he expected.  "You have committed crimes against the Galactic Republic and against the dignity of thinking beings," Qui-Gon says.  "In specific, I am referring to your trafficking in slaves and your conduct toward them.  My people are remedying the wrongs you have done to the extent that it is possible.  I do not intend to give you leave to ever commit such crimes again.  There are two ways this may be accomplished."

"As if I would bow to one like you."

"I am giving you the opportunity to confess to your crimes and be sentenced formally," Qui-Gon says.  "I would work to make sure you are treated fairly.  But I won't bring you on board my ship if you refuse to come quietly.  It would endanger people I am obliged to protect.  You would have no mourners on Coruscant, mighty Gardulla."

"Coruscant has no jurisdiction, Jedi. The Hutts are sovereign - and I have broken no law of ours."

"I don't think much of a legal code that permits torture or trafficking in slaves," Qui-Gon says.  "As a matter of simple practicality, the courts will try you and sentence you if I bring you before them with a confession of your crimes.  You would be allowed to live out your life, without the ability to hurt anyone else, but in relative comfort.  The other option, your excellency, is that I kill you right now, in this room.  It's that that I don't believe Coruscant would mourn."

"You think you could fight your way through every one of my guards?"

"I wouldn't need to," he says.  "My people already control this facility.  But in any case, it would not be of much significance to you what happened to me after I killed you."

She regards him, her eyes narrow, expression more enraged than fearful.

"Are you stalling, your excellency?" Qui-Gon says.  "In the unlikely event that your guards manage to breach this room, I will be able to kill you before they stop me.  But I would not like it to come to that."

She snorts. "You Jedi are soft. Weak. What are you to the Hutts but tiny flies?" She tilts her head. "But if your threat is as good as you promise... I will concede. I am no fool, and even a fly may sting at times."

She smiles, thinly. "But know this, little Jedi: your Republic's core has already rotted to a dark pit. Gardulla will outlast your precious Order, your vaunted moral law - and the only pity I feel is that you won't live to see it."

"I will be disappointed if that is so," he says levelly.  "Would you like to record your confession now?"

"I see no reason to delay, little Jedi."

He retrieves, from a pocket, a handheld holorecorder, and activates it.

She repeats the crimes he wishes her to confess to, evenly, gaze never wavering from him. She adds no embellishment, makes no attempt to justify herself.

He beeps off the holorecorder once she's done.

"Thank you for your cooperation, your excellency."

She sneers at him.

"Now, we wait."  For Anakin to finish her job.

Anakin is doing pretty well, she thinks - she's successfully mind tricked all the guards (...with only a few close calls), no one was at imminent risk of dying or in the murder gardens, and enough of the older slaves recognized her to sort of trust her. (It helps that they're probably dead if they stay. Terrifying murder children become a lot less terrifying when your alternative is Gardulla.)

She gets them onto one of the big enough ships - she has no problem stealing from Gardulla - and disables the ship's tracking devices.

Then - slip back to the control room, dodge the increasingly frantic computer workers, slip into the (already logged in, hah) seat of one of the consoles, and enter the password she put on the door controls. She only gets the (unguarded) door to the room Qui Gon and Gardulla are in open - though she's keeping to the spirit of the 'no death' challenge, so she sets a timer to open just the doors in five hours so no one gets stuck where they'll starve.

Then she hops down and heads back to the ship, whistling cheerfully once she's away from people.

She'll wait to take off until Qui Gon and Gardulla have boarded Qui Gon's speeder - theoretically some guards could still get over here, she wasn't able to perfectly shut down the corridors between Qui Gon and the bay, so she doesn't want them knowing that there's something suspicious going on.

Qui-Gon lets his senses wash over the facility, keeping one mind's eye on the position of the guards that could theoretically intercept him and Gardulla.  He moves purposefully but not over-quick, keeping up the image of someone who's already won.  They reach his speeder without any problems; he lets Anakin know they're on the move, and departs out into the desert, toward the ship.

She takes off, laughing, her ship following in his wake.

None of the guards manage to mount a pursuit before they've reached their destination.

Time to get off Tatooine.

Kelié's magnificent star-yacht docks with the ship Anakin stole while they're both in orbit.  Qui-Gon sets his apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi, and a few of Kelié's guards, to keep watch on Gardulla in her room.

He and one of her pilots go to speak with Anakin, wearing the first genuine smile he's worn in a good while.

She's helping people get settled, now that they're docked. (She's unsure, right now, if they'll be staying here or going to Kelié's ship, so they're just getting families reunited, everyone provided with at least some water and food or medicine if they're in high need, and triage on lingering injuries done for now.) (Shmi and the elders are actually doing a lot of this work, but Anakin has a way with the other children, and she can pretty accurately guess at what anyone quasi-conscious or unable to communicate needs.)

"Hey!" Anakin chirps when Qui-Gon finds her - between tasks, fortunately, she hasn't had the time to get very involved in anything yet.

"It's good to see you again," he says.  "I hope everything went smoothly on your end?"

"Mostly, yeah. Took a bit of pushing to convince a couple guards they really felt like dropping their weapons and going to the canteen for a drink... But I managed. Nobody got injured in getting out, and we were able to bring along everyone already injured or unable to walk, too."

"I'm glad," he says.  "Do you need any help?"

"If you've got medical supplies, that'd be nice. Or extra food and water - we grabbed as many rations and water packs as we could on our way out, and the ship had a store already, but there's a lot of us here who were already running at 'pretty thirsty.'"

"We have some spare, though not many," he says.  "I'll see what I can do."  He retrieves his communicator and directs whoever's on the other end to bring over some spare supplies.

"We can hold out for a bit, still. And we're used to rationing. Guess it depends on how far we're going..."

"The trip should take less than a week."

"Yeah, we can manage that even with keeping a small buffer in case something goes wrong..."

"I'm glad," he says.  "Speaking of which - "

He indicates the Naboo pilot accompanying him.  "This is Ric Olié," he says.  "He knows the way to Coruscant from here.  I brought him over to pilot this ship for you, if that is agreeable."

She hums. "People might get nervous about outsiders helping... But I think it's fine, and I'm really useful with the organizing. And they'll be okay as long as I say I'm keeping an eye on things, I think."

"All right.  Is there anyone I should have him speak to?"

"I can introduce him to a couple of the elders when I let them know he'll be flying us."

"I'd appreciate it.  Thank you again for all your help."

"I think I should be thanking you, too... But we can call it mutual."

And she can pretty quickly get the pilot settled and oriented to the slight weirdnesses with Hutt ships.

And once things are settled: "So, how would you judge our bet?"

"I'd say you won - I probably couldn't've gotten all the people rented out or from the other Hutts, even though I could've gotten all the people in the compound. You even arrested Gardulla." She seems to think that's incredibly hilarious, in a vicious sort of way.

He chortles a bit.  "I'm glad my work has met with your approval.  We should be on our way soon.  Would you like to discuss our next steps, once we reach Coruscant?"

"Sure. People're getting settled, so I've got time now..."

"All right."  He sits down.

"Strictly speaking, I believe your end of the bet was merely that you'd try my plan first, and let me stop Gardulla and the others on my terms, as long as we freed enough slaves," he begins.

She hums. "I think there was also something about helping Naboo? But that might've been 'so Naboo will want to help Tatooine.'"

"We discussed that," Qui-Gon says.  "I'm not sure it was quite a condition, but I'm sure the Naboo would be honored if you would help them."

Shrug. "I like Kelié, she's nice. And it's sad her people are being invaded. My people might need me, but... I dunno. Demon powers don't really seem like they'd be needed if everyone's just moving to a normal place. And people might not stick together, anyways, lots of us are from all over - plenty of people have families they remember from before the Hutts. And I dunno I want to always be needed forever by the same people."

"That makes sense," Qui-Gon says.  "And I'm glad to hear it."

"I expect there is much you can do to help already," he goes on, "but there is an offer I wanted to make you, concerning further developing your powers."

"Really? What?"

"Traditionally, experienced Jedi like me take on Padawan learners, or apprentices," he says, "and teach them to make safe and effective use of their powers.  My current apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is about to graduate to the level of Jedi Knight.  I intend to teach you what I can regardless of our formal relationship, but if you're interested in joining the Jedi order, being officially my Padawan would make it easier for both of us, and grant you access to more resources during and after your apprenticeship."

"Huh."

"What'd happen if I joined the Jedi?"

"As my Padawan, you'd live and travel with me, accompanying me on missions when it's safe.  I'd teach you how to commune with the Force, and how to accomplish new things with your powers.  Right now my focus is on the situation with Naboo and Enarc, so we'd spend most of our time there, or in Corusant protecting Queen Amidala while she spoke to the Galactic Senate.  The Jedi also have our own culture and way of life, our own philosophies about how and why we use the Force, and a code of conduct, all of which I would teach you about.  You'd be able to learn, not just from me, but from other Jedi, and you'd have access to some of our Archives, which can also teach you about the Force."

"Some Jedi believe that independent study of the Force, or traditions other than our own, are too dangerous to be ethically permissible.  I am not one of them, and if it becomes necessary I will protect your right to leave.  If you do decide to leave, as I say, I am willing to teach you as much as you are interested in learning in my capacity as a friend and mentor."

She thinks, humming. "That sounds good, yeah," she says, after a couple moments. "You're neat, and I think I'd like learning from you."

"I'm glad you think so," Qui-Gon says.  "You're older than children usually are when the Jedi Council prefers to take them on, so they may take some convincing, but I believe they can be convinced."

"Huh. How young are kids normally?"

"Six to ten, traditionally.  Sometimes younger, if they're particularly precocious with the Force; rarely ever older."

"Huh."

"I'm probably somewhere between ten and fourteen? But mom hasn't really tracked that, especially before we ended up on Tatooine, so I don't think anyone can be super sure."

"That sounds right," Qui-Gon says.  "You may at some point be obliged to select an age to declare yourself as on paperwork, but the Council won't be that concerned with minutia, I don't think."

"Might say I'm thirteen. That's a cool number."

"Reasonable," Qui-Gon says.

Hee.

"So what next?"

"The formalities can wait until we reach Coruscant," Qui-Gon says.  "I'm happy to consider you my Padawan now.  I can even start your lessons, if you don't have anything else to attend to."

"I don't!"

He settles in, and they begin.

"When we first met I described the Force to you as a field of energy, thought, and intention," he says.  "It permeates the Galaxy and all living beings in it.  Anyone can hear it, or speak to it, and most people do, sometimes; but it takes training, usually within an existing tradition, to do much more than that.  Traditionally, the Jedi focus their efforts on cases of exceptional sensitivity, like yourself."

She hums. "Why not teach everyone? Or try to, eventually - even if teaching people's really hard, if every teacher teachers two future teachers, you could get really really big over time."

He smiles.  "In fact, the number of Jedi is growing, though not quite doubling with every generation.  But many Jedi feel it isn't wise to teach as many people as we possibly can."

"Why not?"

"In part, for the same reason we don't hand everyone in the Galaxy weapons, or warships.  The Force can be a powerful tool and a dangerous weapon.  It - is like a person, and I believe it wants good things.  But it's not perfectly good, and it can't turn its users to perfect goodness."

"Another reason is that the Force does not have just one nature.  Jedi have found within the force much light and goodness and healing; but in our studies and meditation we've also perceived darkness and pain, hatred and jealousy, and the desire to lash out and hurt.  It has what we call a Dark Side."

"Then you just fix stuff so people aren't hurting all the time, so it's safer for everyone to get trained."

His lips quirk into an affectionate smile.  "Is that all."

"There's some steps in between, of course."

"In between is precisely where we are."

"Then we'll have to keep working for a bit."

"I look forward to working alongside you."

She laughs. "Yeah, me too."

He chortles fondly.  "But in the meantime, it's important we're careful with ourselves and with the Force, as we learn to use it and to call on it.  This is why the Jedi order has a code of conduct, and why certain things are forbidden to us."

"Like what?"

"The Jedi code prohibits attachment, both to material things and to other people.  What exactly is meant by attachment is naturally a subject of some debate.  And attachment is not necessarily a negative emotional or cognitive force, in my opinion; but the Jedi tradition holds, and I don't disagree, that it's a vector by which the Dark Side of the Force can influence your thoughts and feelings, and a very dangerous one for Force-users.  My own interpretation is that attachment becomes dangerous, as a state of mind and as a vector for allowing the Dark Side to influence you, when it moves you to act and gain power primarily for the purpose of controlling the people and things to which you are attached."

She scrunches up her face a bit, like everyone involved in creating this entire philosophy has a brain she doesn't quite understand. 

"You can always feel free to say what you're thinking, Anakin."

"...What does attachment have to do with being a controlling jerk?"

"Attachment can be a motivator to take control of things or people, if you're afraid they'll leave you or disappear," Qui-Gon says.  "It doesn't have to be, but you might say it's a risk factor.  And the Jedi believe it's a much greater risk factor for people more in touch with the Force, and therefore more able to be swayed by the Dark Side."

Very slow, considering nod. "I guess some people are like that, yeah."

He nods.  "Yes indeed.  It can be hard to know if you're one of them, especially when you're young - but by no means impossible."

"I don't think I am, at all."

"You seem to me to take freedom very seriously," Qui-Gon agrees.  "It's an admirable quality, and I think it will serve you well against the corrupting influence of the Dark Side."

"Good!"

He chortles.  "I'm glad of it as well."

"What does the Dark Side of the Force do, though?"

"It grants you power," Qui-Gon says, "and in some ways that power is easier to obtain than that of the rest of the Force.  But it also changes the way you feel and think.  It amplifies your negative emotions and turns them toward less productive, more destructive ends."

"Oh."

"That sounds bad."

"It is," he says.  "In some ways it's a cruel fate to be Force-Sensitive, as it makes us more susceptible to the Dark Side.  Many Jedi find that stricter interpretations of the Order's codes of conduct can be helpful in resisting it's influence, even if they feel rigid and restrictive at first.  But I don't believe that they are the only such tool."

"I don't like being restricted. It's - ugh."

He considers her.

"My suspicion is that you in particular can do very well for yourself by nurturing and cleaving to your positive values, more than submitting to forbiddances.  I believe that codes restricting one's behavior are healthiest and most effective when they are chosen for oneself, in a safe and reflective state of mind, then when imposed by authority."

...Squiiiinnnt. "Positive values?"

"Things to move toward, rather than away from.  You freed Gardulla's slaves not because you were forbidden from doing otherwise, but because you valued their freedom.  I arrested Gardulla rather than killing her not because I am forbidden from killing, but because I value treating even the worst people as well as you can, given your circumstances.  In each of these cases we were moved forward not by a negative prohibition against inaction, but by our positive desire for a better future than the one our present had in store.  This distinction is at the core of much Jedi thought.  Many of us are suspicious of positive values, because the Dark Side finds it easier to twist the urge to act toward ill ends than it does to so corrupt an oath not to act in certain ways.  But I think positive values are important to embrace, where it is safe to do so; and I think some people are better led toward the light by embracing them.  Complacency might not be the favorite tool of the Dark Side of the Force, but it is certainly a tool of injustice."

...Hmmm that's a bunch of big thoughts she needs to mull over.