In a sense, Watto is observant, but the things he notices are limited to his specific area of expertise. He doesn't see the lightsaber, because the only thing he checks the belt for is money. He doesn't look beyond the handmaiden's robes to the girl's face, because he's already analyzing the robes, calculating how much they cost, how wealthy she must be, how much he can jack up his prices without her noticing. He notices the behaviors of the Gungan, and while he clearly isn't as rich or elegant as the girl - is that poo he stepped in? - he does appear to be idiotic enough to fall easily to a con. And the thoughts of the dealer upon seeing that beautiful droid... well, that should go without question.

"Hi chuba da nago?"

"I need parts for a J-type 327 Nubian."

"Ah, yes, ah, yes," says Watto, trying to remember how much Nubian parts usually sell for, and how much higher his own prices are. "Nubian. We have lots of that. What kinda junk?" Actually, does he have much of that? Where's the kid? "Peedunkey, naba dee unko!" he shouts towards the back of the shop.

In a sense, Kina Skywalker is blind to the nuances Watto notices.  In another sense, she is able to pick up on certain things Watto wouldn't even think to check.  And in a third sense, it's not her paying attention that matters, anyway.  The nudge to be seen by Watto's newest customers is what she pays attention to, because so far it hasn't steered her wrong, even if it's only obvious looking back, half the time.  Maybe they're the sort to take pity on a grubby child working machines, and give her a little extra food, because she's a growing boy, she needs her nutrients.  Maybe they'll give her something she can barter with if she's helpful, and maybe Watto won't take it.  She doesn't truly consider the possibility of freedom.  Whoever these customers are, she's ultimately owned by the Hutt, like Watto's shop is, no matter that Watto 'won her in a bet', and the Hutt wields more power than they choose to or can, or they wouldn't be in this shop.  They'd be somewhere else.  Getting things she probably will never have, like fruit, which sucks, but she can't do anything about it.  She just sorts the junk bins, tinkers in the wastes, and dreams of flying away.

The droid, though...Her eyes widen in surprise as she sets eyes on an R2 unit.  Watto doesn't read the trade flimsis very much, but Threepio taught her how to and she does sometimes and that's...What is a droid like that doing here, in Watto's junk shop?  She has to know.  Knowledge is power.  And if she's ever going to break her chains, she's going to need power.  So she's going to seek knowledge.  And incidentally avoid irritating Watto more than being Watto irritates Watto, as her feet patter along the floor and through the door right on cue.

Watto's surprised to see Kina there already, but not too surprised - she always seems to know what he's going to say before even he knows it. "Ganda doe wallya, me dwana no bata," he barks, and then turns to the man, who seems to be the leader of the group. "How about you and me take a look out back, yes?"

Qui-Gon follows, stopping only to slap Jar Jar's hand away from a device on the wall.

Kina nods at Watto's order, and makes thankful eyes at Qui-Gon as he slaps down Jar-Jar.  She'll mind the shop, not like she has any choice.  Maybe the droid will stay here and she can ask it questions!  Maybe...why do you want me to pay attention to the pretty lady, mysterious force, there's a droid!  It's a cool droid!  Is it her droid?  ...It is?  Cooooool.

(No, Jar-Jar, you do not fondle the splindar multiplexer.  If you do that just wrong you'll unleash the charge built up in the plasma capacitors (because the sandstorms are way too literal and Watto's too cheap to get proper doors even when she leaves the flimsis open to pages showing horrible industrial accidents from sandstorm-related ionization, it's a threat to your bottom line, why aren't you listening), and fry everything in four meters.  She's thought about frying her bomb like that.  The mysterious force looking over her shoulder didn't say it was a bad idea so she can at least be confident it's not going to explode if she does, but she doesn't have anywhere to go if she does.)

Watto's gone, with the guy who had the really intricate thingy under his robes.  Looked kinda like a plasma torch but it was all wibbly in a way she hadn't seen before.  Now's her chance.  The lady who's also here is looking at her...oh no she doesn't know how to conversation she's in uncharted waters why is she risking this - her mouth operates on autopilot.  "Hi!  You're really pretty!  And your droid's cool!  An R2 class astromech is kinda fancy though so umm it's good that he's all sandy and hard to tell apart from cheaper models right now, someone might try and take him otherwise, and that would be bad!  You don't want to have to go hunt your astromech droid out here!  You might get hurt or just lose him and be stuck forever and ever and you don't want to be stuck here!  I don't think anyone who's out here really wants to be, actually; they just don't really have better options...The spacers I talk to sometimes have contracts 'enforced by the Blaster Superior Court', I can't leave or I'd blow up and they'd probably kill my mom too and I'd be very sad about that and maybe really mad too.  If I survived.  Which I probably wouldn't.  'cause, uh, bomb.  It goes boom and I'm all chunky goop, probably."  Sadface, go.  Living here sucks.  And...she really wants to know this, so, "...Why are you here, if you've got an R2 and a Nubian?  If you wanna tell me.  You don't go here, you go up to the Hutt places, where people that fancy are supposed to be!  I can understand if it's a secret...there's a lot of people who don't want to talk about stuff like that.  But you're a nice people and most of those people are mean people."

"Um..."

Not sure how to respond, Padmé begins to laugh, trying to process everything the girl said. Her expression falters, and Padmé immediately tries to backtrack. "Oh, no, I didn't - sorry, I, uh..." She looks to her side and sees R2. "Oh, this is R2-D2." Artoo lets out a soft warble. "We just arrived on this planet, our ship sustained some damage and - " And then the other thing the girl had said sinks in, and Padmé blurts out, "Wait, blow you up? Are you a slave?"

She blinks as R2-D2 is introduced to her.  Like a person.  A free person.  The droids she's seen, every so often...they weren't treated like any more of a people than she is.  "...yeah.  Gardulla used to own me.  She's a Hutt.  Then Watto 'won' me off her in a bet, but it's not like he runs the radio beacon so honestly if Gardulla wanted me back he wouldn't have much of a chance of keeping me.  Maybe Gardulla wouldn't get me either but he'd still...be out.  ...You're nice to the people you own.  I think I'd prefer you owning me over Watto or Gardulla.  Gardulla doesn't like kids."

She whistles quietly as she polishes another part.  <Query: Quality true?  Holo accurate?  Sensor accurate?> is encoded within the sound, in a bastardization of the tongue that hopefully Artoo will pick up on, a secret message to the other being potentially in chains.  Almost no-one bothers learning Binary.  This is not smart of them, because that means that people who do know it can talk without the masters hearing a thing in a way that seems coincidental, but she's going to keep this advantage to herself.

That's unusual! A human who speaks binary, especially at that age! R2 replies in the affirmative.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Where I'm from, we don't have slavery. I thought that the Republic had abolished it by now." She looks around for something else to change the subject to, and then hears a crash from behind her.

"Oh, nooey!" Jar Jar is now hanging onto a pit droid, which had been off two seconds ago, but somehow turned on after he had pressed that button. "Deesa no goin good! Yousa hep meeeee!" The droid stumbles from side to side, slamming Jar Jar into a wall and sending parts clattering across the floor. "Ouch! Ouch! Deesa mackaneek bombad!"

Kina gives R2 an appreciative nod, and then, almost as if she saw it coming, catches one of the parts flung about by the pit droid's fumbling execution of programming it shouldn't even have been running but was anyway - probably because of more of Watto's cheapskatery - and wings that part right at the droid's off button.

"Yousa no touch meckaneek, meckaneek no be bombad!"

"Now help by no touch.  Touch makes things be bombad."

Not that she expects the Gungan to actually listen, but she has to try to get them to perhaps not make keeping Watto less mad even harder, as she scurries about to try and put everything back on its shelves.  She will accept the high probability that they mess something else up and move on, then change what she can.  "...This isn't Republic space, miss.  It's Hutt space.  The Hutts rule here.  I wish they didn't, but...wishing alone won't get me anywhere, and I haven't figured out how to get anything else to work without things I don't have.  It sounds like a nice place, this Republic of yours.  Or at least a nicer place than this.  Something drove you to jump here, after all, and that wasn't nice, to drive someone here.  Here is a horrible place."

"We were actually traveling towards Coruscant, but we were shot at by..." She can't really say a Trade Federation battleship blockading my planet, can she. "Some nasty people. That's why we're here, to buy a hyperdrive. Hopefully Qui-Gon can work out a deal."

Ostensibly, Qui-Gon is looking through Watto's junkyard, and listening to him describe the qualities of his T-14 hyperdrive. In actuality, his attention is still on the girl from inside the shop. Something about her had seemed to pull his attention, a magnet around which the Force seemed to bend. It wasn't just a Force-sensitive kid - he had seen plenty of those over the years, but none, not even Obi-Wan, had exuded quite the same amount of energy. The lines of the old prophecy were running through his head: A Chosen One shall come, born of no fath - oh, the dealer's talking, right.

"You awake?!" snaps Watto. "I said, how ya payin' for this?"

"I have - " 30,000 "20,000 Republic dataries."

Watto gives a fierce chuckle. "Republic credits? Republic credits are no good out here. I need something more real."

"If credits don't work," she mentions (to Padme) in a quiet voice, "...try gambling.  You're already stuck here, so you've got quite a lot to bet, what with an entire Nubian J-327 to ante," which she is still shocked about, "plus whatever else you have onboard because you're clearly too rich to know better than to look it, and Watto's always making bets.  He bets against me at the podraces.  Boonta Eve Classic's coming real soon.  ...And I mean, I don't, can't, win, because then he'd be, upset, even if him-upset isn't as bad as Gardulla-upset...but I could.  If my mom and I weren't going to get hurt over it."

Please, please, let this work.

Qui-Gon raises his hand, beginning the all too familiar process of entering Watto's mind, and then pauses. The voice inside his head is speaking out again, telling him that... what is it telling him? Is it objecting because of the ethics, as if a slave owner deserved to be fairly dealt with? Or is it something else, something more - "I'm sorry, could you hold on a second?" he says, and he stumbles away, landing against a wrecked vehicle, with his head pounding.

"Hey, you get offa that!" Watto snarls. "Podracer's broken enough as it is!"

"Oh?" he says on autopilot. "If it's a podracer you want, I have one for sale."

No, he doesn't. Why did he just say he had a podracer when he doesn't have a podracer.

"What, and you want to trade it for the hyperdrive?" laughs Watto. "I'm not that desperate. Besides, my pilot's just as broken as the racer - oh, speak of the devil."

And lo, a Kina appears, eyeing Qui-Gon with undisguised curiosity and significant concern before schooling her face into the chirpy helpful mask she adopts around Watto.  "I don't think I'm broken, Master Watto!  And I'm pretty sure Sebulba's fine now too, he was all snarly at me like usual instead of just grumbly.  Was there something you wanted, sirs?"

"You podrace?" asks Qui-Gon. Even granting that she clearly was attuned to the Force, podracing should be impossible for humans, especially a child... who was she?

"No, she doesn't," growls Watto. "I only have half my pod left after the last time she tried to fly it."

"I'm pretty sure that battle damage is an expected challenge when podracing, because I certainly don't see how certain crowd favorites haven't been summarily ejected from the circuit otherwise!"

'Sebulba did this, Watto, and you're betting on him, so you can't blame him for what he did to your stuff if you put it up against him, now can you?  I mean, you can, but that's wrong.  You created this incentive structure, I'm just acting on it!', she doesn't say.

"Bolla neechu!" barks Watto, before turning back to Qui-Gon. "The brat talks too much, but with the prices of slaves these days, that's the best you can get, eh?"

A flash of rage courses through him, before being silenced, pushed away, a motion that was nearly reflexive by now. There is no emotion, there is peace. "I wouldn't say I'm too familiar with that business," he says, calmly. "But I suspect she has more talent than you think."

Qui-Gon Jinn gets her best Innocent Hopeful Smile™.

'C'mon, c'mon, think about it, you've got stuff you can gamble on the races and a racer, I already told the nice lady Watto loves to gamble...'

(Do not touch your gun. Do not touch your gun. You are the Queen of Naboo and you have to act diplomatically towards everyone EVEN IF THEY DESERVE TO BE EATEN BY A RANCOR.)

"Excuse me, but would you consider taking part in a wager?"

"Ooooh, this is one of those deals," says Watto, clapping his hands. "What are we betting on?"

"We enter Kina into the podrace," says Padmé. "We'll put up our ship. Fully functional Nubian transport, save for the hyperdrive, which you have."

"Oh, and if she wins, I give you the hyperdrive? Deal!"

"Not quite. If she wins, you give us the hyperdrive and set her free."

"...set my mom free."

She can make her own way out, whether through this gamble or through guile and technical skill.  Her mother, who doesn't have her skills...She can't.  And if her mom was here, and she wasn't...She'd still be chained to Tatooine.  Because they could hurt her mom.

Oh, hopefully they'll settle on the mother, she isn't as valuable. "Bah, the hyperdrive's the only thing that makes the ship worth anything. A ship won't make up for the drive and a slave."

It actually would, but they likely won't know that.

"It's a J-327..." she 'accidentally' mumbles.

Her mom. Not just the girl, they even have her mom. "No one said it had to be even odds. I assume there are more than two racers in a podrace? Even if we aren't putting up as much, you'll get the ship as long as anyone other than her wins the race."

"Well, suppose I were to accept this deal... the ship against the hyperdrive and the mother, mind you, not the girl. Who's paying the entry fee, you with your Republic credits?" He snorts.

No, no, don't go lower on the offer!  Bah...You could've pushed him more!  He's not even a little bit grumpy now!

"We can't leave the girl without her mother," says Qui-Gon, stepping in. "There's a pretty large prize for the race, yes? We have no need for money. You put up the entry fee, we'll give you the entire prize if she wins - in exchange for the hyperdrive, and freedom for both of them. If she loses, you get the ship. She wins, you'll get enough money to cover all your losses. It's a guaranteed win for you."

Yes, it is, but he's not going to stop lying now, is he. "That prize money's not going to cover a hyperdrive, and the entry fee, and two slaves. The mother or nothing."

"But..."  Oh well, she's given them all the help she can and pointed out Watto's lying through his teeth besides; if this doesn't work she'll have to go with plan besh.

"Schutta!" Watto hisses, assuming that the girl is trying to get herself freed instead of her mother, because he would be doing the same thing. "We have a deal, or no?"

And she schuttas, but she also gives the nice lady a firm nod, even if she has a bit of a frown on her face at the time.

<Query: Have message to communicate? Unable?> R2 whistles, because the girl seems to keep starting to say things, before nervously glancing at Watto and stopping.

<Report of value below design parameters, parts insufficient for task.> she hums, rocking back and forth.  <Report false; value above expected parameters.>  (He's lying about whether the winnings would cover his costs.)

Qui-Gon is about to ask for the girl instead of her mother, hoping that he can use the Force to sway Watto, when he hears a high squeal from R2. He doesn't understand the meaning, but he kneels down next to the droid, who spins and displays a monitor for him to read.

"Oh," says Qui-Gon. "Thank you," his eyes flick to the girl, "Artoo." He stands and turns back to Watto. "It seems you've been misleading us. According to my droid, the market price for my ship is over three times that of the hyperdrive and two slaves."

"Ah, well," he chuckles, nervously, "you can't always trust a droid?"

"And I can trust you?" says Qui-Gon, turning to leave. "I think we can find another dealer with more... principles."

"No! Wait!" shouts Watto. "Perhaps we can, ah, go back to the deal you proposed, yes? The ship against the drive and the two slaves, I pay the fee and I get the prize if she wins?"

Qui-Gon gives Watto an icy stare, but eventually nods.

Relief.  Kina had a plan for "I can only get my mom out", but she sure didn't want to test it.  R2-D2 gets a thankful grin.

"Perfect! Then we will meet again at the race, and we will, ah, see who comes out on top!"

"I'll want to speak with the girl, plan things out," says Qui-Gon. And find a podracer, somehow. "I give you my word you'll get her back if she loses, which I doubt she will."

"Your word?" laughs Watto. "Oh, sure. And if you don't, well, I have... safety protocols, yes?" He pats the transmitter on his belt, and watches Kina flinch.

Qui-Gon turns around and strides out of the shop and into the street, yanking Jar Jar away from a can of motor oil and beckoning Padmé, Artoo, and Kina.

Behind them, a probe droid watches, and then scurries away.

Kina grimaces at that reminder of her potential mortality, but doesn't hesitate to scamper off with the rest of them.

...What was that sound?  She doesn't like it.

A few blocks pass in relative silence, save for a warble of <Gratitude> to Artoo, but when she's far enough away, she gets in closer to Qui-Gon and pitches her voice just so in the way of conspiring children making sure their voice doesn't carry, and asks, "...how did you know I have a podracer?"

Well, that would certainly explain it. "Actually, I didn't. I was told that I should act like I had a podracer, by, ah..." He pauses. "Is there anywhere more private we could go to talk?"

"Our house is this way."

Well, at least they have a house. He follows.

When they arrive at Kina's house, Shmi is waiting there, outside the door. "Kina!" she calls, and pulls her into a hug. She looks up at the rest of the group. "Hello? Kina, what's happening?"

"We're going to be Skywalkers for real, after the Classic's done."  Kina hugs her mom tight, still not quite believing it herself.  "...Watto was convinced by the nice lady and this fellow and this wonderful droid to bet the two of us and a hyperdrive against their broken ship that needs a hyperdrive, in a podrace.  I was wondering why I didn't hear long-term danger about wrecking Watto's...Think I just found out."

"A - hyperdrive? Podrace? Wait, bet us?" Instinctively, she starts to back away.

"Not as slaves," Qui-Gon says. "Your freedom."

"I - " She can't even begin to comprehend it, the only thing she says is "Why?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Padmé says. "I didn't even know there still was slavery in the galaxy, but I'm not going to just let Watto abuse you like that."

"I - thank you, but - "

"Actually, ma'am," says Qui-Gon, "I'm afraid I do have a bit of a personal request for you. Could we talk for a moment?"

"Of course," says Shmi. "Come in, come in. Kina, do you want to show them what you've been working on in your room?" She's polite, but clearly means that this conversation isn't intended for Kina.

Padmé and R2-D2 follow Kina into her room. Meanwhile, Jar Jar inspects a bowl of food, and slurps pieces one by one with his tongue.

Sure, mom, you'll get your privacy.  She's reasonably confident that this guy is going to tell her about whatever-it-is anyway, especially if she asks.  It's probably related to the way he knew-without-knowing that she had a podracer, and she was told she really should meet them in the first place.

To her room!  With Padmé!  Huh, there's a droid in the corner, with all the wires and stuff exposed.  There's kind of a whole warren of wires and mechanisms, actually.  "I'm told that it's 'uncouth in certain segments of Core society to invite a lady into your room without a fleshy chaperone', and I hope you don't mind," she says, affecting an accent befitting of protocol droids set to maximum stuffiness, "but frankly I trust Artoodeetoo here to keep whatever they're hiding behind the euphemism," she pronounces with only a bit of hesitation, "of 'virtue' safe more than I trust Jar-Jar.  He's too easily distracted, and if we weren't going to be leaving soon, I'd be yanking his tongue out of the food bowl right now.  But you, you noticed, and you acted, and, I had a plan I could use but it would've been even more dangerous, and, thank you."  And R2-D2 gets a hug!

Padmé smiles; Kina seems to have missed a few details on how that works, although she does begin to wonder whether Kina's comment that she was pretty was anything other than a throwaway compliment. "Wow, what's that?" she asks, looking at the droid in the corner.

"He's most of a protocol droid, and normally I keep him powered down except for lessons but I could boot him up if you'd like?"

"Sure, I'd love to meet him!"

It's a matter of moments for Kina to flick a switch or three, and the voice Kina was clearly imitating when she was doing her stuffy accent whines into existence through a garble of vocoder.  "Maker Kina, this is not the time you normally awaken me for lessons - and who is this that is in your room?  You know I am not going to tell you the things you do not need to know yet about why chaperones were invented by biological lifeforms just because you are thoroughly disrespecting the rules about them with a misplaced noble!"

"Yes, I know, I know, you've told me enough times and I'm not going to rush ahead.  She's helping me and mom get off this dustball, and mom and one of her co-conspirators," she preens a little bit about getting the word in, "are talking, so here I am as a distraction."

"'My mother and I', Maker Kina."

"But my mom and I are the object of that sentence!"

"So you are, and you were correct to say what you did.  Well done, Maker Kina.  We'll make a socialite of you yet."  The droid seems to radiate fondness.

"Not with other people in the rooooomm..."

"You must be able to comport yourself appropriately in unexpected circumstances, Maker Kina; cultural data suggests that the presentation you wish to pursue does not let something so paltry - so small, as the presence of a fellow sapient dissuade - convince her to not pursue, her goals with panache - style, and aplomb - self-confidence!"

Kina fixes the droid with a pout.  It isn't very effective...

R2 whistles a series of tones that aren't quite in Kina's vocabulary, but seem only to anger C-3PO.

"Well I never!  Do you consider ships on the yard scaffold naked?  My maker is doing her best, and with not a thousandth of your manufacturing budget!"

"Please, let's not get into a fight, yet?  We need to work together to get through this, and friction between ourselves isn't going to help anyone.  And I'm guessing that that was something about not having proper covers?  I'm doing my best, but decent exterior plating's hard to get and also the least critical to have if I'm making a droid that stays indoors; between that and a flux compensator, I'm taking the compensator every time.  We are going to need to get something on you for the trip out, though.  I'll see what I can get from the junk dunes..."

"I think he looks amazing," says Padmé, as R2 beeps with resentment. "You really built a protocol droid all by yourself?"

"Mostly!  I didn't make the processor or anything, and I bet someone's really mad about that but I don't know who they are so I can't exactly fix it, but I did find all the parts and put them together!"

"Wow. You're really talented, you know. Did you build the podracer yourself, too?"

"Mostly!  ...I'm talented?  I thought it was mostly just, math.  Like, sure, I'm doing fancy math with the gravitic wave dampeners' power-to-flux curves, but beyond a bit of strength and dexterity necessary to put the parts together, I mostly just need to ask any droid or get a calculator, and occasionally test stuff to get more numbers?  It's mostly time-consuming, once I have the general plan in mind.  I just, start on the broad strokes and work my way in.  Though, I should probably give myself a bit more credit for figuring out how to rig the wrecked parts of...More podracers than I really want to count, into a semi-cohesive whole, and I think I did do something genuinely inspired with the engines, or maybe the deflectors, because I haven't seen anyone else get as much thrust out of theirs as I have, and these are largely stock parts.  It's not like anyone publishes their blueprints though.  Though some of the other kids sometimes tell me what they see in the warehouses.

"...How many people can your ship feed, for however long the Tatooine-to-Coruscant run is?  I...there's a lot of other kids and some will want to stay 'cause it's what they know and maybe someone will get them out with their moms dads and parents, but some...don't even have parents, and some have bad parents, and some have agreed with their parents that they should run while they can, and maybe you should take a couple parents but most of the parents will probably want you to take the kids like I know mom would have wanted you to take me even though I have a better chance of making my way out under my own power and...I want to do as much as I can to help everyone I can help and you have a spaceship.  ...I can put the word out.  I'm still young enough that nobody pays that much attention to me yet."

"I..." On the one hand, half of these kids are probably enslaved, and she can't just stand by... but yeah, as painful as it is, she has slightly more important priorities. "Kina, we can maybe help a few people, but we're kind of in the middle of a rescue mission of our own at the moment." There's no real reason to hide the first level of secrets anymore, so, "We're coming from Naboo. The queen of Naboo... came here. On our ship. The planet's under blockade by the Trade Federation, and we're trying to contact the Chancellor to arrange a counterattack."

"Oh.  ...Oh.  That's...a lot of people.  Yes.  More important."  She hasn't ever thought about saving an entire planet.  "Still gonna...at least try, but...yeah.  You've got...a lot more people that need help."

...and now Padmé is being hugged.  "They shot at you.  And you're, you're nice, you're good, you care.  They shot at you because you care.  Because you want good things for people and they're a bigger Watto and just want credits, credits, credits."  It's not a question, none of it is.  She can feel that responsibility sitting on Padmé's shoulders (though maybe only with a little help) and traders are, so far as she can tell, Watto writ large as an institution, though it's not like she has much for comparison outside the Hutts.  "People are mean like that so much and I don't know why.  It doesn't make sense.  Doesn't it hurt to see other people hurting?  But the Hutts...they're cruel and they enjoy it and...I don't understand.  I just don't.  How can you look at the world and think it needs more suffering?"

"Honestly, I'm still trying to figure that out myself," she says, sighing. "But what matters is that we don't fall down that path ourselves." She can tell as she says it that it sounds hollow, that it's not an answer so much as a dismissal, but it's all she has.

...Kina redoubles her hug.

"We try our best, and that's all we can do, huh?"

The next morning, Qui-Gon is waiting for Kina at the table, holding what appears to be some sort of measuring device.

"...I surmise," she says, with all the confidence of someone using her Word of the Day in exactly the right situation for it, "that this has something to do with the way you didn't know, but still acted upon, the knowledge that I had a podracer, and the discussion that followed.  What are you looking for?"

"This is for detecting midi-chlorians," he says. "They're a certain form of microscopic particles in the blood. If this result comes out the way I suspect, then yes, it's connected to my knowledge of the podracer."

He brings the device to Kina's arm, and pokes it with the needle.

Kina swipes her arm away on general principle, because he should have properly asked, but then does permit Qui-Gon to take the sample.  "Are midi-chlorans the same thing that's in your...What is that, actually?  It feels...some sort of way."  She's pointing right at his lightsaber.  "I think I saw some of the same parts that go into cutting torches, but not arranged the same way...and certainly not with the same sort of power pack."

"It's a lightsaber," says Qui-Gon. "The weapon of a Jedi."

The reading begins to rise. Within three seconds it has already reached 5,000, significantly higher than average.

Within ten the reading is at 12,000, higher than most Jedi, higher than his own, even.

Within twenty it reaches 18,000, somewhere around Yoda, and it's starting to slow down, but not by much. It clearly isn't going to stop anywhere on the graph.

A few seconds later, it crosses the 20,000 threshold, and displays an error message.

"I'd say something about 'why is a diplomat carrying a weapon', but given the sorts of situations you're called to do diplomacy in if this situation is within even an order of magnitude of typical, I think the actual question I want to ask is 'Why don't you wear armor?'."

"Armor? I don't think we've ever really had that... but I think the Force provides us with the protection we need." Here goes the speech. "The Force is what gives a Jedi... their power. It's an energy field created by all living things - the midi-chlorians are how we connect to it, how we sense it, and it senses us. It surrounds us, and it penetrates us, and it binds the galaxy together. And you, Kina... according to this test, and what your mother's told me, have an enormous potential for the Force. As in the highest midi-chlorian level in, to the best of my knowledge, all of history. As in there is a prophecy about you."

"...but why is there a prophecy about me?  Can't the Force just...tell people things?  If it's what I think it is, it's rather distinctive!  Or was this it telling someone things?  ...But then why is it a prophecy?  Why not just a message?  Is there some reason it can't tell whoever it needs to tell, when it needs them to know, instead of relying on secondhand recorded accounts?  ...I can't think of a reason for that to be necessary that doesn't imply that there's something that can work on the same level as the Force, and is likely active in the present time in a way that the Force thinks that it will, be able to, if whatever this is is something that does things, foul up its lines of communication in the now...  ...also I don't really think it's my power if it's...I can think of it as having a will independent of myself.  So it's more that...however midi-chlorans work...Has anyone studied that?  I feel like it'd be interesting to see if someone's studied that."  (A large number of lightyears away, a particular Muun coughs into a ventilator mask.)  "Anyway, if midi-chlorans are how it...but, that can't be right!  Your lightsaber is connected to the Force and it's a rock!  Unless there's some sort of weird squishy bits preservator in there!"

By now, Qui-Gon is beginning to get used to Kina's tendency to generate a long series of questions. "The origins of the prophecy are somewhat unclear, but there are documented cases of Force prophecies coming true. I guess it has something to do with the Force wanting both the Jedi of the past and you to hear about it, although it probably could have just told you both... I think this is kind of just one of those times when you have no idea why the Force does what it does, but in general it works out to listen to it. There have been studies on the Force and midi-chlorians, but we haven't really found much... to be clear, the Force does connect to more than just midi-chlorians; the lightsaber contains what's called a Kyber crystal, which has a connection to the Force that again, I don't know the exact properties of. You're correct that the Force has its own will, and it's important to listen to what it says, but it can also be used to achieve your own goals, enhance your own strength. The standard Force ability would be this." He raises his hand, and a piece of food rises from the table and into his grasp.

Not at all coincidentally, this happens right as Jar Jar was reaching out his tongue. He ends up yanking the bowl onto his face, from which it seems to be quite difficult to remove.

"...What is the prophecy?  Has anything that was a Force prophecy with specific enough conditions to tell ever been proven false?  "

...Huh.  And Kina can do that too?  Can she...reach out, (and ask the Force politely for assistance, in the part of her thought processess that is fully devoted to dealing with her not-so-imaginary friend), and...pull that bowl free of Jar-Jar's face?  It should work if Jar-Jar stays put, nice and snug like so, held gently with a smooth suggestion of force (more than an actual exertion of bindings - she's not used this muscle before, she doesn't want to strain it, she's not sure how strong it is, but she can get his attention with a poke like this and coo gently to calm him down and that'll help, that works well on the little kids and clearly Jar-Jar's parents were not very responsible in their raising of him so it's plausible that he'll respond well to, hmm, like this?  Okay...) slowly guiding him to a standstill so he can't flail around and break her concentration, or bash into something, and then the bowl goes like this and that and then this and...huh.  She's holding the bowl.  She wasn't really expecting to be holding the bowl, for all that she was totally confident she'd end up holding the bowl at every point of this process.  She's not quite sure how she came to be holding the bowl, even, except that she is far too close to Jar-Jar for her comfort and getting out of the disaster radius right now, thanks.

...She doesn't actually want to be holding the bowl.  It's got Jar-Jar mouth goo all over it.  And that's interesting chemically because it's really sticky but more than that it's ick.  So...into the fresher it goes, quick!  And so does she, she'll be right back, ew ew ew ew ew.

A moment passes as Kina feels the sonics in the fresher do their work, and then she returns.  "There!  All done with that."  She brushes her hands off one last time.  "So...the Force also does knowing-things, across time and space...do we know if it does anything else?"

That -

was -

"Well, that usually takes a few years," he says. "I suppose if you're moving this fast, catching up to the others might not be as much of a concern." She doesn't know who he's referring to, does she. "Kina, after we get off this planet and wrap up the situation on Naboo, we'd like you to join the Jedi Order."

"...I'm willing to consider it?  I...I want to make the galaxy a better place.  A place where people aren't shot over trade disputes.  Where it's not a big arranged coincidence and a huge effort by an almost all-knowing Force that frees a family from slavery.  And if the Jedi Order can help me do that, and there's not some place that I find that I fit like a glove or a key, I'll gladly join, if they'll have me.  I don't think I've heard of anyone else that knows how to do this ever, though that doesn't mean they don't exist, and I really do want to learn.  And if there's a prophecy about me...well...The Force has done good by me; I want to do good by it in turn."

Qui-Gon nods. "I have a message I want to send, but after that, we can check out this podracer of yours. The race is tomorrow, I think, so we'll need to make sure it's in good condition." He heads outside, turning on his comlink as he walks.

Kina's fine with that!  (And Padmé said the ship could take a few people other than her and her mom with them, not to mention just the benefit of having a slave chip out, so can Qui-Gon let them know there should be some people coming by while the Classic's on and everyone's paying attention to it, they'll look like this and this, and they will organize getting people out of here, and she hopes they have a medic droid onboard because while she's able to find the things that need removing, she's not a doctor, and she's pretty sure she's got the list of where the chips are right but it's always good to double-check.  Thanks!)

...

He found WHAT.