"Yes."
Onboard the Trade Federation's flagship, Saak'ak, dozens of C-9979 landing craft roared to life, detaching from the massive carrier and forming into formation.
Engines blazing, they descended through Naboo's atmosphere toward their designated staging areas.
As for Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, their spacecraft and its two pilots had been "saved" by Garfield.
His stated reason, he wanted to bring them back for interrogation.
The Viceroy, naturally, wouldn't dare question the powerful Garfield's decision.
He simply ordered the flagship's crew to secure the Jedi shuttle and place the pilots under temporary guard.
Through the main viewport of the control room, Obi-Wan watched dozens of landing craft descend toward Naboo's surface.
His heart burned with frustration.
This mission has gone completely wrong. Defeated by a cat. A cat!
His fate and his Master's now hung in uncertainty.
Qui-Gon, however, remained calm. His attention was fixed on Garfield, who was examining Obi-Wan's captured lightsaber with obvious fascination.
Both Jedi were human, so their lightsabers were designed for human hands, approximately thirty centimeters in length, perfectly weighted for a human grip.
For Garfield's feline paws, however, it was... slightly oversized.
It looks like a cat toy, Qui-Gon observed.
Garfield held the hilt, turning it over in his paws. Then, with casual curiosity, he pressed the activation button.
SNAP-HISS
The emerald blade erupted to life.
Garfield tested it on a nearby disposal unit.
A single, effortless swipe. The trash can split cleanly in two, edges still glowing faintly from the heat.
No one in the control room dared comment.
The Trade Federation officials were, at their core, cowards who bullied the weak and groveled before the strong.
And Garfield was something they couldn't even classify.
Garfield examined the smoking remains, then the humming blade, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Not bad. I'll have to collect a few more of these later."
Obi-Wan's eyes blazed with helpless fury. Not only has he taken my lightsaber, he wants to collect more!
That means he plans to attack other Jedi!
Unacceptable.
I, Obi-Wan Kenobi, will never allow this to happen.
Qui-Gon, however, was studying Garfield with a different kind of intensity.
He searched his memory, comparing what he'd witnessed against everything the Jedi Order knew.
Finally, he spoke. "Orange one... are you a Sith?"
Garfield's ears flattened slightly, as if offended. "Sith? Those fools? This king is nothing like those brainless fanatics."
The response hung in the air.
Not a Sith.
But more importantly, Garfield knew about the Sith. That information was supposed to be confidential within the Jedi Order.
Qui-Gon pressed carefully. "You know of the Sith. Have you encountered them?"
Garfield pointed a paw at the Trade Federation officials, who flinched visibly. "They're working with one right now."
"Not that they'd recognize a Sith if one bit them on the~" He paused, considering his audience, and continued. "The one they're dealing with calls himself Sidious."
"If you knew that name, I'd be impressed, possibly shocked. Maybe I'd even jump up and down." His tone suggested he would do no such thing.
Obi-Wan's mind reeled.
Sidious. A Sith Lord.
The Jedi Temple's ancient teachings flashed through his memory users of the dark side, wielders of forbidden powers.
They always appeared in pairs, master and apprentice.
Their movements were shrouded in shadow, their purpose singular, the destruction of the Jedi.
Throughout galactic history, the Order had believed them eradicated. Extinct.
And now… they had resurfaced.
This is no coincidence. This is an ill omen.
But there was more, every Jedi knew the prophecy, passed down through millennia:
The Chosen One shall come~
born of no father,
through whom the ultimate balance of the Force shall be restored.
Qui-Gon recited the ancient words quietly, watching Garfield's reaction.
Obi-Wan's eyes widened. He looked from his Master to the orange cat floating lazily before them.
"Master... are you suggesting he~" He pointed at Garfield, incredulous. "But he's an orange cat!"
Garfield's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. His fur bristled slightly.
"Orange. Cat." Each word was clipped.
"Did I steal your cat food? Did I shred your curtains? Did I knock your precious artifacts off your shelves?" He floated closer, whiskers twitching with indignation.
"You have a problem with orange cats? Say that again, and this king will draw 'CAT' across your face in permanent marker."
"You'll carry it for the rest of your life."
The control room fell deathly silent.
Draw a cat face on him, he'd have to wear it for life.
Obi-Wan's imagination supplied the horrifying image, himself, standing in the Jedi Temple's Great Hall, surrounded by fellow Knights and Masters.
All pointing at the crudely drawn whiskers and cat ears permanently etched across his features.
Their laughter echoed in his mind.
He shuddered involuntarily.
Terrifying.
The shame would be absolute. Never.
Qui-Gon, however, had caught the implication beneath Garfield's threat. The orange cat had no intention of killing them.
At least, not yet.
Reassured of their immediate safety, Obi-Wan pressed further. "If you're not the Chosen One, then... do you know where he is?"
Garfield scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Some backwater desert world, lousy resources. Can't recall the exact name, Tatoo-something?"
"Tatooine, that's it. The boy's still young. Prime age for training, if anyone's interested." He paused, whiskers twitching.
"Oh, and a word of advice, that kid is fiercely attached to his mother. She's his only family. If you can't guarantee her safety, don't bother showing up."
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan exchanged glances.
This entire situation feels surreal.
They huddled together, speaking in hushed tones.
"Master," Obi-Wan whispered, "am I awake right now?"
Qui-Gon's reply was dry. "Feel free to hit yourself and find out."
"On second thought, I'll trust my senses." Obi-Wan's eyes gleamed with excitement despite their predicament.
"But Master, think about it, this mission will go down in Jedi archives!"
"We've encountered an incredibly powerful orange cat, uncovered evidence of a Sith Lord, AND received intelligence about the Chosen One!"
Qui-Gon regarded his apprentice with weary resignation. "Obi-Wan. We are still captives. Perhaps temper your enthusiasm."
Obi-Wan's fighting spirit remained undimmed. "Master, we must never abandon hope!"
"One opportunity, one opening, that's all we need. We'll escape, deliver this intelligence to the Council, and return with the prophecy child."
"And then..." His eyes took on a distant, dreamy quality. "Then I'll surely be granted the rank of Master."
"Just imagine… Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. It has a certain ring, doesn't it?"
Qui-Gon studied his apprentice with something between affection and concern.
A fine Padawan, truly. But occasionally... painfully naive.
"Obi-Wan." His voice carried the weight of years. "You are no longer a child. Maturity would serve you well."
"Soon you will leave apprenticeship behind and stand as a Jedi Knight. The Council expects~"
The lecture continued.
Obi-Wan's enthusiasm gradually deflated under the gentle but persistent pressure of his Master's wisdom.
To an outside observer, their dynamic might have seemed comically familiar, an echo of conversations yet to come between a future Obi-Wan and a future apprentice named Anakin Skywalker.
The great circle of Jedi teaching, forever repeating.
If Obi-Wan's fate with Anakin would ultimately shift, leading to tragedy and guilt and Yoda's cryptic warnings, that was still a future unwritten.
For now, he was simply a Padawan being reminded to think before he spoke.
Finally, after Qui-Gon's gentle nagging had run its course, Obi-Wan mustered a small defense: "Master, I'm not naive. I'm... optimistic."
"There's a difference. And miracles do happen, if you keep your heart open to them."
"Such as?" Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow.
Obi-Wan turned to Garfield, who had been watching their exchange with feline amusement. "Can you let us go?"
Garfield nodded. "Yes."
Obi-Wan's heart leaped. He pressed on. "Will you tell us more about this Sith Lord?"
"Yes." Garfield nodded again.
Obi-Wan shot his Master a triumphant look. "See? Miracle."
Before Qui-Gon could respond, a new voice cut through the moment.
"No, you cannot release them."
The Viceroy stepped forward, his earlier fear replaced. Letting Jedi go free, with everything they'd learned?
Garfield without looking away from the Viceroy, he spoke to the mechanical constructs flanking him.
"Hey, Paws. Laserbeak. Seize control."