Khan and Padmé walked the winding streets of Mos Espa, the heat of the day slowly giving way to a dry, uneasy stillness. The city felt different now—quieter, as if it were holding its breath.
"So you're telling me we need to find a way to turn Republic credits into the local currency?" Padmé asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes," Khan replied. "Watto won't take them, and he's unlikely to be the only one."
Padmé frowned. "So how do we do that? We're stranded on a planet we don't know, dealing with people who don't trust the Republic, and we don't have anyone who can help us."
Khan slowed his pace, then stopped entirely. He stared down the street, eyes unfocused as he thought. They had a damaged ship, no local currency, and very little time. Using the Hutts would be dangerous. Drawing attention to themselves would be worse.
"It won't be easy," he admitted. "All we have are credits that no one here wants, and the clothes on our backs."
Padmé watched him for a moment, seeing the weight he carried—not just of this problem, but of everything that had led them here. Finally, she exhaled.
"For now," she said gently, "we should find somewhere to stay for the night. It's getting dark."
Khan nodded. "Agreed. Perhaps someone will accept Republic credits for lodging. Even out here, there must be exceptions."
They continued on, but something felt off. One by one, shopkeepers began pulling down shutters. Merchants hurried to secure their stalls. Doors slammed shut. People moved with purpose now, no longer lingering or talking.
Khan glanced around. "What's going on?" he asked aloud.
Before Padmé could answer, a small voice spoke up beside them.
"A sandstorm's coming. You don't want to be caught outside when it hits."
They both turned.
Standing there was the boy from Watto's shop—the one with the bright eyes and too-old awareness. Anakin.
"Oh—Anakin," Padmé said, surprised but relieved. "Hello again."
"Hi," Anakin replied. He looked between them, then frowned slightly. "You don't have a place to stay, do you?"
Khan exchanged a glance with Padmé before answering. "No. We only arrived today."
Anakin nodded, as if that confirmed something he already suspected. He hesitated for a second, then his face brightened.
"Well… you can stay with me and my mom."
Padmé blinked. "Oh, we couldn't impose on you like that."
"It's not imposing," Anakin said quickly. "My mom always says if someone needs help, you help them. Especially if there's a storm."
Khan studied the boy carefully—not sensing deception, only sincerity.
"That's very kind of you," Khan said. "But are you sure? We don't want to cause trouble."
Anakin shrugged. "We don't get many visitors, but that's okay. And it's not safe out here when the sandstorm starts."
As if on cue, a distant wind rolled through the streets, carrying grit and dust with it. The air shifted, sharp and restless.
Padmé looked up at the darkening sky, then back at Khan. "I don't think we have much of a choice."
Khan sighed softly. "It seems we don't."
Before they could say more, Anakin turned and started walking, already assuming they would follow.
"Come on," he said over his shoulder. "It's not far."
They followed him through narrower streets, away from the main market. The buildings here were smaller, simpler—homes carved partly into the ground, designed to endure heat and storms alike. The wind grew stronger with every step, sand skittering along the ground.
"You live here?" Padmé asked as they walked.
"Yeah," Anakin replied. "It's not much, but it's home."
They reached a modest dwelling just as the first strong gusts swept through the street, howling between the buildings. Anakin hurried to the door and ushered them inside.
"Mom!" he called. "I brought guests—they needed a place to stay!"
As they stepped inside, the door sealing out the roar of the storm, Khan and Padmé found themselves in a modest but tidy home. The walls were curved and worn smooth by time, the furnishings simple but cared for.
A woman rose from the small table near the center of the room. She had light skin, warm brown hair pulled back loosely, and kind brown eyes that held both strength and quiet endurance. Despite the harshness of the world outside, her presence softened the room.
"We apologize for intruding, ma'am," Khan said respectfully, inclining his head.
The woman smiled gently. "It's no intrusion. I assume Anakin insisted you take shelter here."
Anakin stepped forward quickly. "Mom, they didn't have anywhere else to go. And you always say we should help people who need it."
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You did well, Anakin."
Then she turned back to their guests. "I'm Shmi. Anakin's mother. It's nice to meet you."
"Thank you for your kindness," Khan replied. "I am Khan, and this is my friend, Padmé."
Padmé offered a polite smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Shmi gestured toward the table. "Please, join us for dinner. I apologize if it isn't much."
"There is nothing to apologize for," Khan said. "We are grateful for whatever you are willing to share."
They sat together, the simple meal warm and filling after the long day. Outside, the wind howled against the structure, sand striking the walls in steady waves.
As they ate, Khan explained their situation in careful terms—how their ship had been damaged, how they required a hyperdrive motivator, and how they had found their way to Watto's shop.
"I see," Shmi said thoughtfully. "You're right. Watto is likely the only one who would have a part like that. Not many travelers come this far unless they have no other choice."
"Hopefully," Khan said, "we can find a way to make the money we need and return to the Republic."
"Why don't you bet on podracing?" Anakin blurted out.
Khan looked at him. "Podracing?"
"Yeah!" Anakin's eyes lit up. "It's the biggest sport on Tatooine. I'm going to enter one day and win—with my own pod."
There was no doubt in his voice. Only certainty.
Padmé tilted her head. "Is it safe for someone your age to compete?"
Shmi gave a faint, knowing smile. "Quite the opposite. It's extremely dangerous. Many racers don't survive."
Anakin frowned slightly but did not argue.
"I wish he wouldn't pursue it," Shmi continued softly. "But he dreams of winning enough to buy our freedom. He believes it's the only way."
Padmé looked at the boy differently now—not as a curious child, but as someone already carrying the weight of responsibility.
Khan remained quiet, though his thoughts churned.
From the moment he had met Anakin, something had stirred within him. A current in the Force—subtle, persistent. It wrapped around the boy like a quiet hum beneath the surface. Strong. Unrefined. Waiting.
It felt… significant.
As dinner wound down, Anakin turned to Padmé eagerly. "Come on, I want to show you something. I'm building a protocol droid."
Padmé smiled. "You are?"
"Yeah! I'm almost done."
She rose and followed him toward the small adjoining room, leaving Khan and Shmi at the table.
For a moment, neither spoke.
"Anakin is a bright child," Shmi said at last, her voice gentle but filled with conviction. "He's clever, and he sees the world differently. I know he's meant for something more. I don't know what… but I feel it."
Khan met her gaze.
"When you arrived," she continued, "it felt like… change. Like the Force itself brought you here."
Khan did not react outwardly, but her words settled heavily in his mind.
"I do not know if I have the ability to change his circumstances," Khan said carefully. "Even if I were to free him, my path would not allow me to raise or guide him as he deserves."
Shmi studied him for a moment. "Can he not work with you?"
Khan hesitated, then spoke plainly. "I did not properly introduce myself earlier. I am a Jedi of the Order."
Shmi's eyes widened slightly. "A Jedi…" She lowered her gaze, absorbing that.
"Even if I brought him with us," Khan continued, "he is older than most who begin training. The Order does not easily accept children past infancy. And my responsibilities… would leave him without proper guidance."
Shmi nodded slowly. "I understand."
But the faint disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable.
"I only want him to live free," she said quietly. "To choose his own path."
Khan felt the truth of her words. He was certain now—Anakin was Force-sensitive. Strongly so. The current around him was undeniable.
If the Sith had truly returned, leaving such potential untrained could be dangerous. For the galaxy—and for the boy himself.
Yet the Jedi Council was strict. And Anakin was older than any initiate he had ever heard of.
The storm outside began to fade, the winds settling into silence.
Later, as the household prepared for rest, Khan stepped outside alone.
The night over Tatooine was vast and cold, stars scattered endlessly above the desert. The air was still now, the storm reduced to drifting dunes of sand.
Khan looked up at the sky, feeling the Force flow around him.
Anakin Skywalker.
The name lingered in his thoughts.
The Force had drawn him here. Of that he was certain. But for what purpose?
Perhaps the boy was simply meant to cross his path.
Or perhaps…
Khan's gaze hardened slightly.
With the Sith revealed and the balance of the galaxy shifting, ignoring what the Force was clearly placing before him might be a mistake he could not afford.
Maybe—just maybe—the boy's destiny and his own were now intertwined.