This is my first Star Wars Fanfiction, so be nice.

Also, I know most of the character names but for some I'm not certain how they're spelt. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

First questions- the funny "toytarian" with wings in the Phantom Menace is called Watto... isn't he? And they are in Mos Eisley and not Mos Espa, aren't they?

The numbers at the start aren't in credits. It's some other weaker currency.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of the characters or locations, because George Lucas did it all.

"Forty-thousand..."

"No, it's too close..."

"Rearrange then. Fifty, thousand..."

"..."

"Sixty..."

The toytarian wavered in his flight. Such an offer didn't come by every day. But then, the chance to win a Naboo spacecraft-

"Sixty-five. You can't turn down this offer Watto." The tall man leaned a little closer. Something in his nature gave him immediate control of the argument. Watto knew he was right.

He grunted in consideration.

"Why would you offer so much for one child slave?"

"Its important."

How could he control it this well? If he wanted the chain of discussion to end, it ended. If he wished to persist in it, so it did.

Undeterred, looking almost uninterested in fact, he leaned back and stood with his hands loosely on his hips. His eyes were fearfully penetrating, though he didn't seem to be attempting that feat consciously.

"What can you do, Watto? This is an offer you can't refuse..."

"Yes, yes I know, but-"

"So why do you delay?"

"When will you be leaving" the Toytarian ventured finally, "A week, a few days maybe..."

"Tomorrow. As soon as I can. Now strike the deal."

Watto's hand extended cautiously, almost fearfully.

It was grabbed before his arm was straight.

They shook hands very briefly.

"Bargain struck. You can pick him up here right away tomorrow."

"Good."

And with that he swung nimbly on his heel, and left like nothing

had happened, or ever would. Watto watched until the last of his heavy blue coat disappeared beyond the threshold of the shop entrance.

Some miles away, just within sight of the town, there was another stranger. Of course a place like Mos Eisley was blessed with them, but this one was particularly unusual. Few wore such deep black robes in a climate like this. Partially shaded from the twin suns by the bulk of his ship. Holding the communication device horizontally, he hit a button. A similarly clad figure appeared in hologram.

"You called, Master?"

"Things are moving faster than I had anticipated. There is a new player sitting to the table. We must act immediately."

The robed figure knew well his master's voice; this was nothing short of urgency, which he rarely expressed. It was serious...

"The ship?"

It was obvious what he referred to.

"No. Things have moved on. The Queen is not first priority anymore."

"Who is?"

"The boy."

"Slave boy? What threat is he?"

The hologram's face contorted into something resembling a smile beneath the hood.

"More than you could know. Act quickly, my apprentice, as soon as you see an opportunity, however slight. I do not wish to lose them here."

"As you command, my master."

"You've what?"

Anakin couldn't believe it. He stared dumbly up at the flapping Toytarian.

"You realise, Watto, you are passing down a star-ship." Qui-Gon, who had just spoken, looked as though his usual calm, collected demeanour was quickly evaporating.

Watto, sighed, looking perhaps even sad. "For sixty-five thousand I could buy a better ship and service it for a year. Business is business." He added the last line as a feeble attempt at conclusion, but Anakin was having none of it. He couldn't believe he could be taken away on the day of the race.

"But you can't do this! Qui-Gon, do something." He found his eyes were bleary; he didn't care. Anything to make Watto reconsider.

Qui-Gon looked down, deeply apologetic, "I'm so sorry, Ani. Watto's already struck the deal, he can't go back on it."

The Jedi looked back to Watto, "when will he be picked up?"

Anakin was incredulous, "I'm being taken away. What about Mom?" He really was crying now.

"He should be here." Said Watto, his rough voice almost solemn.

There was a long moment of pause. Anakin was stunned, paralysed by such a turn of events, that he could think of nothing to say in his defence, not that it would have made any difference if he could: his throat had closed up.

Perched on the counter, he put both his hands over his face, rocked himself gently and burst fully into sobs and tears. He squeezed himself tighter, becoming as small as he could, as though he could become so small that it wouldn't matter what had happened.

He felt strong arms wrap around him, and recognised the hair of Qui-Gon's beard brushing his face. He didn't stir. He was held briefly- far too briefly, for he would have preferred to have been held forever- then the arms unravelled and he heard Qui-Gon recovering himself, and the coarse flapping of Watto's wings barely keeping him adrift. It must all be over, he decided.

Emotion can wait, now you must think.

These were the thoughts Qui-Gon repeated to himself over and over as he left. He had learnt so much in years of being a Jedi, that he thought he must be capable of any situation, but no matter what the problem was this had always been a recurring theme. Emotion, left unbridled, easily conquered reason.

They were stranded on an outer rim planet, in desperate need of reaching the Republic Capital but now with no way of even making this possible.

He glanced up briefly, looking over a blue-coated before him. Padme and the Gungan were waiting nearby. He made his way quickly over to them, knowing Padme would be less than pleased that her disapproval had proved to be well directed.

If only he had looked back after the blue-coated shoulder. He would have recognised the face of Anakin's buyer immediately.

End of Chapter 1

I think that was a bit slow for an opening, but I promise you it will pick up lots more pace in the next chapter and hopefully for the rest of the story. Correct me if I've got anything wrong.