Republic. The way of the Jedi is dying, and the universe is in turmoil. For a thousand years, the Jedi have done battle against the evil Sith. But the old ways are dying, and few believe in the Jedi any more... A century of peace has bred apathy, and the old prophecies have gone unfulfilled. The Sith have vanished and gone underground. And the Republic, once strong, has grown fractured, and the SEPERATISTS call for an end to its dominance. Meanwhile, at the tail-end of the galaxy, a lone Jedi, OBI-WAN KENOBI, sits, and awaits his final orders... EXTERIOR: Mustafar, a mud planet. Darkness and thunder. Endless rain comes pouring down. Here we are, at the 'ass-end' of the galaxy. A small bar, nothing more than a hovel, really, pokes out of the mud. Close-in on the bar. INTERIOR, BAR: The bar is grotty beyond belief. Tuneless music plays. A few solitary customers sit in the corners, obscured by shadows. An alien barman polishes his glasses. OBI-WAN, a young Jedi, with greasy long hair, and a two-day beard, sits and drinks... Barman: Another exciting day for you, master Jedi?

Obi-wan (looking up from his drink): Mmm? Oh, aye. Patrolling the dead sector, shooting mudrats. ...My cruiser broke down in the rain. (He points down to his robes, which are filthy, and encrusted with thick mud.)

Barman (chortles): So, a good day for you.

Obi-Wan: Oh, aye. Everything I dreamed of when I signed up at the Academy.

Barman: Tell me again. How did you land this wonderful assignment, anyway?

Obi-Wan: Do you know what a 'career path' is?

Barman (looks around, confused): A what?

Obi-Wan: Exactly. Well, me neither, apparently...

THERE IS A SHARP TRILLING SOUND IN THE BAR. The other customers look up. Obi-Wan, startled, drunkenly reaches for his lightsaber, fumbles it, and drops it to the ground. The trilling sound continues.

Obi-Wan: What's that?

Barman: An incoming call.

Obi-Wan: An incoming call? I didn't even know you had a comm-system.

Barman: Me neither. Well, we had one, but it hasn't been used in years. (He peers down at a screen on his bar.) It's for you.



The Barman touches a button, and a dull screen behind the bar flickers to life. The face of MACE WINDU, Jedi Elder, appears on the screen. Throught the call, his image is frequently disrupted by static.

Mace: Master Kenobi

Obi-Wan: Master Windu.

Mace (grimly): We've had a hard time... tracking you down.

Obi-Wan: Well... (He gestures grandly at the bar.) ...I've been right here.

Mace (laughs without mirth):

That, we knew. But it seems that your personal comm-system has been turned off.

Obi-Wan (winks at the Barman): Turned off? I had no idea. (Slaps his head, suddenly appearing to remember.) ...Oh, oh. Now I recall. The battery ran down.

Mace: It uses no battery.

Obi-Wan: Well, that, and I dropped in the mud.

Mace: In... the... mud.


Mustafar is an extremely muddy planet, Master Windu. Of course, no other Jedi has ever been here before, so doubtless you didn't know this.

Alien voice (in the background): Hey, shut up over there! Some of us are trying to drink!

Obi-Wan (turns): In a second!

Barman (whispers to Obi-Wan): ...I have to ask you... is this going to be a long call? ...Because I'm afraid it's rather expensive.

Obi-Wan: Can't you put it on my tab?


I'm afraid that's impossible.

Mace (speaking to the Barman): It will not be a long call.

The Barman is surprised to be addressed by the Jedi Master. He turns, bows, mutters, 'Sorry, sorry...,' and scuttles off... Mace continues—

Mace: Master Kenobi, I am delighted to say that you have an new assignment.

Obi-Wan (surprised): I do?

Mace: You will report directly to the planet of Naboo. A small matter has arisen there. Perhaps you may be of some assistance. A division between the Seperatists and the Republicans... a trival matter, really...

Obi-Wan (still surprised):

Really? I have a new assignment? He motions to the Barman for another drink, in the process knocking over the drink that he already has.

Mace: Master Kenobi, though for many years you have chosen to drown your sorrows in drink...

Obi-Wan: It's either that, or drown outside in the rain.

Mace: Nontheless. ...A few, a very few on the Council still recall your early potential.

Obi-Wan (busy haggling over the price of a drink): Early what? Ah, yes, potential. A beautiful word, Master Windu, is it not?


And... it... is... for this reason... and this reason alone... that you are being given this final opportunity.

Obi-Wan: Couldn't get anyone else to do it, eh?

Mace (smiling genuinely for the first time): No. (A beat of silence.) You will report to the planet of Naboo immediately. There you will mediate a tax-dispute.

Obi-Wan: A tax dispute. Fascinating.

Mace: These are not the days of the Sith Wars, Obi-Wan. We all do... what we are told.


And that's been working out well for you, has it?

Mace: Master Kenobi, I am... terminating this conversation. And as always, Obi-Wan... (He smiles genuninely again for a moment.)'s been an absolute chore.

Obi-Wan (smiles as well): Thank you, sir. (On-screen, Mace turns to leave.) ...But wait! Naboo? Where is it? What is it?

Mace: Instructions will be sent to you. Naboo is a small planet, but a noble one. (He winks.) It's a water planet. You'll love it.

Mace hangs up. The comm-link abruptly switches off. Obi-wan shrugs his shoulders, then turns, and stares out the window. Through the window, clearly, we can see endless lashes of rain coming swiftly down.

Obi-Wan (grimly): Water. Now there's something I haven't seen enough of.